home_and_away | Homesign

The snoring stops and what sounds like a struggle for first breath begins. I look over my shoulder, waiting to welcome Mark to the day.

"No squid tonight," burbles up from his throat. Eyes aren't even open yet. This should be interesting.
"What?" His sleeping brain is much better acquainted with lucid language than mine; word salad is uncommon. I'm curious where this is going, where it's coming from.
"No. Squid. Tonight."
Okay, that message was intentional. Now what's it mean?
"Okay, no squid tonight. Should there have been?"
"NO!"
"No squid how?"
"No eating squid tonight."
"Okay, I won't let you."
"NO! YOU! No squid for you!"
"...kindof a shame, but okay. Why not?"

"Nightmare," he says. And then he makes this gesture. This beautiful fluid gesture that starts small with the popping into mouth of calamari, then builds into a frenzy of arms erupting from his mouth and reaching out to drag a large unwilling being back into the mouth and close up tight.

"OH GOD! NO SQUID TONIGHT!"
"Tha's what I've been saying, yeah."