Microfiction: 'In the Fullness of Morning'

It was Saturday, early in the A.M., the only morning all week when Ivan could doze ad infinitum. The sun was up and streaming through the bedroom window, but he pulled the covers over his drowsy head and continued to dream.

The dream involved his pursuit of a golden, jewel-encrusted box, about the size of a shoe box, that kept receding from him, faster and faster, as he chased it on some kind of pedal-powered vehicle, which seemed to be a cross between a bicycle and a kayak.

Gradually, a dreaded feeling began to invade his reverie: a liquid fullness in his lower extremities. His dream-self stopped chasing the glittering box and began searching instead for a restroom as he floated through his ambrosial dreamscape. The fullness was also bringing him, gradually, to consciousness, and inserting a vexatious question into his groggy brain: Should he interrupt his well-earned languor, rise, and use the facilities? Alas, the answer was, "mmmuhhh....okay."

Ivan threw back the comforter, cursing the huge mug of coffee he had imbibed the night before, and leveraged himself off the mattress. The room was a blur, and he felt befuddled. He collided with several pieces of malevolent furniture, including a hostile dresser drawer he'd left open and a vindictive laundry hamper, as he stumbled toward the bathroom. There, standing before the commode, he lowered the bottom half of his slumber attire and at last found blissful relief. With eyes closed, he imagined himself as a fireman, using his hose to put out a terrible conflagration as crowds of onlookers cheered.

"I have to stop drinking coffee at night," he mumbled to himself as he finished, flushed, and then returned to bed with the intention of once again embracing the Arms of Morpheus.

But it was another hour, an hour of trying to find just the right position that would enable him to lose consciousness, before he finally slipped into his dream -- the same dream. Once again, he found himself pedaling toward the dazzling golden box, and this time, slowly gaining on it. Finally, he reached it, where it sat, glistening, on a glass table. He unlatched the cover and peered inside.

There was a cup in there, a plain ceramic mug with something written on the side in a jagged font. It said: "I have too much blood in my caffeine system". He picked it up and took a long, delightful sip. It was the most delicious cup of coffee he had ever tasted.