I rarely ever dream about the people who are nearby every day, the ones that I see at work, school, or home.
I always have dreams about the people who were only in my life for the shortest moment, the ones that I’ll likely never see again, or the people who I barely noticed, and of course the ones that I miss the most.
There’s this one person who I dream about all of the time. I don’t even like him. In fact, there are so many things about him that I very much dislike. But he’s always “the one” in my dreams….
Of course I had another dream of Him. We were in a class together, he was just two seats away from me, and we were staring at each other intently. It was like our eyes were locked.
We made short conversation around the girl who sat between us. I could tell that both of us were trying really hard to sound casual. It was like we were playing a game, a game against our feelings, seeing who could last the longest taking in the short, choppy questions that should have been directed toward acquaintances.
“Hey….How are things going?”
“Good.”
“Good…”
But we were not acquaintances; we knew each other very well.
I don’t know how it got to this point, but the girl in between us disappeared; everyone disappeared. And we were now very close, staring deeply into each other’s eyes. If gun shots were blasting around us, we would not have noticed… At least not me, I was mesmerized by the same blue eyes.
He whispered something that I can’t remember. Upon my reply, I froze, and my words came out broken up, unclear. I couldn’t breathe anymore because his face was right against mine.
We were standing now, and he was pulling my hair behind my ears. His lips came so close—too close—to mine. I can’t do this, I thought.
The girl who sat between us and everyone else in the room suddenly spiraled back, into to my “reality.” She was grabbing my arm, looking horror-struck. She dragged me away, and then He was gone.
The girl and I were now in a field of tall yellow grasses; a railroad track lay in the center. I started walking on the edge of it, balancing myself, and she walked across the other side. She was talking to me quickly, though I have no idea what she was saying because He kept popping into my head. I started telling her about him, just brief sentences that would show that I knew him and that he “wasn’t important to me.” She said that she believed me, but the look on her face told me that she didn’t.
That’s the last that I can remember, standing on the railroad tracks, the sun shining against the tall grasses; it was really lovely… until I woke up.
