Mornings

Sunlight slips past the cracks in my curtains illuminating the corners of my room. The light's brightness creeps past the floor and makes its way to my bed, forcing my eyes to see, disrupting my dream. Rolling my body across the bed feels like pushing a cart uphill, but I do it anyway, looking for any sliver of comfort to bring me back, to restart the dream. But it's lost, gone, and not even the memory can find its way back. Sometimes, when I wake, I wonder if what I felt was a dream or real life.