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In Mog’s dream, he couldn’t have been older than eleven.
It’s a sunny summer evening, and he laughs as the trampoline beneath his feet springs up and sends him back into the air. He giggles each time he’s launched into the air, bouncing just a little higher each time he lands.
They can hear the droning of insects and the twittering of birds from beyond the tree line, the soundtrack of a long forgotten, nostalgic summer. In the orange glow of the setting sun, they watch their shadow stretch long over the trampoline.
She giggles again as she bounces higher still, and throws herself into a flip, landing sitting up on the trampoline. Dizzily, she lies back, feeling the elastic surface growing still beneath her. She catches her breath, chest heaving as she begins to settle, and shifts her gaze to the sky. The puffy white clouds of the afternoon are beginning to take on a purple hue, the sky darkening to a deeper, richer shade of blue.
Even as the day nears its end, Mog doesn’t seem to mind. At that age, summer had always seemed to stretch on endlessly, and each day felt magical in its own way. To end one day only meant that the start of a brand new adventure was just one sleep away.
“Mog! It’s time to come inside!” Their mother’s voice calls from across the yard.
Mog sits up, pulling their knees to their chest. “Five more minutes?” They plead. Their own voice sounds softer, a little higher in pitch than they’d have expected. It’s a sound that they’ve forgotten for a while, but one that’s distinctly familiar.
“I already gave you ten!” Their mother laughs “It’s movie night, remember?”
Mog perks up at that. With a little less reluctance, she crawls to the edge of the trampoline. She lowers her feet to the ground, but just as they touch down to the earth, the image of the world around them seems to grow foggier.
As the dream fades, a more tangible image of darkness behind his closed eyes seems to take its place, the feeling of a warm mattress seeming to materialize beneath his back. Mog eases slowly back into consciousness, the dream slipping away entirely as he wearily blinks his eyes open.
Mog squints against the early morning sun streaming in through the blinds. He’s aware once again of the weight beside him, and snuffles just a little closer into the back of his sleeping partner. He rolls his face against his partner’s shoulder, burying himself in the fabric of his t-shirt as if to block out the sun.
Although the dream has ended, they can still sort of feel the sensation of it in their chest. That forgotten sense of boundless childhood joy clings to them even in wakefulness, and they bask in the warmth of it for a moment longer.
Slowly, her partner begins to stir beside her, shifting slightly. Mog snuggles a little closer, draping an arm over their waist, and a warm hand slides into her own, squeezing it sleepily a moment later.
“Morning, Pix,” Mog says softly.
Pix yawns. He traces his thumb over Mog’s hand in his own, giving it one last squeeze before he lets go so he can turn and face him. He smiles tiredly at him.
“Sleep well?” Mog asks softly.
“Mhm,” Pix responds. “You?”
“Yeah,” says Mog. They snuggle a little closer, closing the gap between them so they’re pressed up against Pix’s chest. “I had a nice dream.”
Pix’s hand shifts up to Mog’s hair, carding through it softly. “What about?” He asks.
“My childhood home. And the summer.”
Pix hums and presses a kiss to the top of Mog’s head. “That sounds really nice,” he agrees.
“I think we should get a trampoline.”
Pix laughs softly. “Was that part of your dream?”
“Mhm. We could have a movie night too.”
“Also part of your dream?”
Mog just giggles in response.
Pix kisses the top of his head. “We’ll get you a trampoline,” he decides, “and we’ll have a movie night.”
Mog smiles up at him, leaning in to capture Pix’s lips in a soft kiss before settling back down against him. “I love you,” he says dreamily.
“I love you too,” Pix says.
And for a while longer, they drift back off to sleep in each other’s arms.