It was weird. Not that it wasn’t right, but fuck. It’s been a month since I had one that I could remember. I would say It’s been over a month since I had one but I’m too smart for that. I’m not calling myself smart, but I mean, I can read. So anyway back to this thing in a dream. First I should say when I dream, I dream semi-lucid to fully lucid in all of them. Part of it has to do with writing something shitty about it after, like this.
She walked up as the lights faded up to show the park in the background. It smelled of sweet almond extract and faint pine. She was wearing black Converse low tops, either no socks or ones you couldn’t see, dark midnight blue stained denim, and a tucked in plain white t-shirt with red piping around the collar and end of shirt sleeves. She wore crimson, sour red lipstick to cut through the curtain of espresso hair. This was all sewn together with the Caribbean sea blue eyes she has. She was the definition of Americana. It was a completely mute scene from a slow modern rock music video. It seemed as if it was something from a clip in the video for one of your road trip songs. The whole first dream was a silent episode of her going through laughing action shots. Three-second clips of this well-done woman laughing, while holding my hand, then letting go. Letting go and still laughing. What could she be laughing at? Why was there no sound? Why the hell was this happening? As I started to come back down and ask myself these questions I ended the silence. I opened my mouth and calmly let go of the question that had been killing me. “Why are we here”, as the words came, I awoke.
My eyes flicked open faster than the light in a halfway house when they hear a lighter click in the dark. As I was about to roll over I couldn’t. My dog had decided to lay in between my legs. As I pulled him from the depths of my covers and up to the top to help me rid this scandalous yet annoying dream, I fell back asleep.
The second dream started normally. It was three men I hadn’t seen since high school slapped around our old fire pit of fuckery. I went to take a seat in the trifecta. Then one stood up. As he came over across the gravel he asked if I wanted a smoke. In high school we thought backwoods were meant to be smoked as they came, not with weed stuffed in instead, so this seemed like a good idea. So I lit one the fuck up. As the baseball player buddy handed me a beer, the defensive end decided to let me know why we were here. He went into great detail about the wedding we were walking to, as we started up the hill. Rolling up the green glass slope to see one of the few missing from the old gang get married I saw my hand. I came again to the realization that I was dreaming. I didn’t want to mess with the wedding so as we came upon the wedding seating I pulled up a chair in the back and started to look around as the best men left. Then, without consciously implying anything, here she came. She walked down the side of the seated folding white wooden chairs for wedding guests to sit in. She was with her college roommate whom I’ve never met. The roommate in a denim blue dress with matching lip gloss, hair in a ponytail, and I don’t remember what shoes on. Her counterpart, the girl from the last dream, had a maroon dress that was sun-bleached in areas as if it were actually faded and not just made to look the part. As I introduced myself to her she looked me up and down, planted the smirk on the side of her face and sat down. Her roommate opened her mouth to comment but then quickly closed it, and sat down. I was appalled. Not by their actions, but more so by what the hell was happening. I was astounded that the first girl I’ve had any interest in in the last year and only the second total in my dreams was here. Before I could run my mouth to ask what the fuck was going on, she stood up. She turned back and her blue eyes, clashing the sinning amounts of red shades she carried, didn't blink as she started laughing again. As the Americana model giggled every time she looked at me standing in the row ahead, I asked a question. I don’t even remember if the words slipped off my tongue, but she knew where I was going. Her roommate turned back over the chair to stare at me doing the same to this women. As she gradually tapered off her laughing streak she lifted her complementing sundress. I didn't know why, but I wasn't mad. As she showed off her tattoos under the dress I didn't know she had, my question was answered. There was the white that had been missing before. Wrapped tightly around her pudenda were Calvin Klein bottoms, just without his name. It was mine. As I cocked my head like a border collie wanting his ball and not understanding the question, her roommate raised a finger. As she shook the no out of my question I awoke again. This time with even more confusion.
I was not only confused, but worried by the counselors I got to see and talked to in my third dream, but that's another story. Vain