Three hallucinations

1.

Something heavy lies across my legs and I open my eyes.  A curtain, a beautiful velvet curtain! I stroke it with the grain, against the grain, and the two people sitting beside me watch my hands flicker through the air.

2.

I can see you.  Peeping around the curtain at me.  Standing behind my bed as I lie here.  I can see you.  I won’t be long.

3.

She holds up a finger, an antennae, like she’s trying to find a stronger signal.  ”You can’t hear that?” I can’t, and I ask what she’s listening to.  Smiling, humming, her mind becomes a scrapbook of forgotten and remembered tunes.