It was getting hotter and I couldn’t sleep.
Every night they moved me closer to the engine room.
As I tossed and turned, I dreamt of opening a window.
The dream was brief,
just long enough for me to taste the cool night air,
to hear faint music from a barbeque echoing out across the water
and to see the stars and moon suspended in the Milky Way.
The dream used an old sash window from a wooden villa.
It got stuck.
Having opened it I couldn’t shut it.
I would be forced to endure that view forever.
I could smell the meat cooking.
And above the music I heard snippets of conversation
followed by raucous laughter.
Thankfully the dream ended.
I woke up to the smell of burning.
But as I lay there bathed in sweat staring into the dark,
the smell went away,
as if a breeze had stolen into the room and taken it.
There was not a sound,
only the heat and the stale air
to remind me where I was.
I lay back down relieved.
I was getting closer.
Tomorrow night they would move me closer still.