There’s this guy I really like. His name is Martin. That is all you need to know for now.
We must have been driving from school because the streets were filled with the purple blooms fallen from the trees in the neighbourhood. The road was backed up a long way and the traffic was, though usually rather horrible, even worse than normal. Inching along at a snail’s pace, we crept through the windswept neighbourhood. Some children were running, perhaps trying to avoid the coming storm. The wind whirled the purple blooms in circles around the car. On the horizon you could see blue lights flashing. There were no orange lights where the sign to be aware of the pedestrians usually is. Something just felt wrong. Along with the storm outside the unrest in me was growing in intensity slowly and slowly, threatening to reach a devastating pitch. Something was wrong, and though I couldn’t say exactly what, I knew that it was awful. And still we crept closer and closer as if years were passing in that short distance. Nearer and nearer…
It happened without my consent, much as in most dreams or stories or fantasies. I got out of the car. My legs motoring away in a direction I didn’t tell them to go. It was as if my body was going on a trip and my mind was just some sight-seeing tourist. It was right at the crossing where so many people I know had been hit by cars that I was almost ready for what I saw next. Almost, but not quite. There was a white car pulled up on the kerb, an ugly dent in its front. No not a car, a humongous pickup truck. And there he was, lying propped up against a wall. I have no idea how he got there or what happened to him, but seeing him like that nearly ripped my heart. He was battered and bruised and all alone. People were drumming closer, no one bothering to come close to him. To help him. A bunch of police officers were near the flashing blue lights taking statements.
“Did anyone call an ambulance?” I yelled frantically.
No one reacted. I couldn’t just stand there. I ripped out my cell phone dialling the emergency number without even checking.
“Tell them to send an ambulance.” I said and shoved my phone at a bystander.
Hey if this is a dream that should work. I fell down on my knees and looked into his pale face and deep eyes.
He looked straight back at me, shaking his head quietly.
“You can’t leave Martin! I haven’t had the chance to tell you. I’m in love with you Martin. I really really like you. And I know it’s selfish but I can’t let you go. I NEED you to be here!” somewhere in this speech I’d started sobbing. The tears feel surprisingly real for a dream.
He tried to speak but struggled, his breathing is ragged and almost sounds as if he’s gargling. He reached out his arm and wrapped it around my shaking shoulders, pulling me to his battered and broken body. I buried my face in his chest. It feels just like I’d imagined, probably because this is still all just part of my subconscious.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He barely whispered.
Sirens sound up and the red light of an ambulance flash away in the direction of the street. But what has my attention is that he promised he’s staying. And that it’s for me.
This would be a wonderful place for a dream to stop. After all, we have just seen the love of a lifetime being realised and the hero got the guy of his dreams. But it wasn’t. Don’t get worried though. The happy ending will come…
He’d just come out of hospital. He’s standing there in the doorway. I wasn’t allowed to see him before the operation. His lung had been punctured by a broken rib and I had almost made it worse with my shaking on his chest. They didn’t want me distressing him further (or perhaps it was the other way around). After the operation I only saw him a few times, but he was sleeping. He looked amazing sleeping so peacefully a slight smile playing across his features. I run closer to him. This will be our first actual embrace. Just as I’m about to launch myself at him, I can see him wince. In a crazy last minute attempt to avoid his obviously sore body I throw my momentum to the left, losing my balance and landing hopelessly in a bundle on my face. A distressed sound escapes Martin’s mouth as he rushes to my side as quickly as he can manage in his current situation.
“Are you okay?” he asks frantically.
A moan escapes my body as I roll over and laugh at the silliness of it all.
“Well now that you’re here, yeah.” I manage between painful laughing fits.
He starts laughing along, sitting down next to me. We stay like this for a while, me on my back and him next to me, just laughing. Finally he stands out and stretches out his arm to help me up. I take it, but he overestimates my weight and underestimates his own power. I crash into his body, bringing forth a muffled “oof”. I look up at him, making sure he’s okay. He smiles down at me.
“You’re cute when you’re worried.” He says.
I must be blushing. Strange how you still experience everything so vividly in a dream. Like the next moment when he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine. No tongue, no wet lust, no angry or powerful sexual pressure. Just love. Simple and innocent love.
Again this would be a lovely place to end a dream. And yet, my own subconscious is in charge of this particular situation. And so the dream, and the telling of it, must go on…
It was on that very same afternoon that my friend, who I hadn’t seen for a year, had a party. He was taking me. It is just so perfect. The dream chose to realise in the kitchen, preparing for the party. It was supposed to be a party for our other friend who was turning eighteen. I was in charge of making sushi for the party. So here I am in the kitchen when he walks in behind me. I think it’s time I described this guy from my dream to you. He has brown hair and brown eyes. He’s not specifically muscular, but he has enough to make you feel them hidden away just below the skin. He’s tall too. Well, just tall enough to be able to rest his head on mine. So at this moment he came up behind me and leaned his head on my shoulder. His arms reach around me and take my hands, helping to form the rolls of seaweed, fish, avo and rice into something edible and beautiful. Hey OCD is even present in dream-realities! At this moment the birthday-girl entered the kitchen. She starts laughing when she sees him holding me like this.
“What?” I say, frowning.
She just smiles at me. I think she knows better than most what I’m feeling right now, her name derived from love itself: Amorie.
And that’s when he turned me around and kissed me again. Softly and slowly and oh so heavenly with Amorie giggling in the background.
This is then the final end of the dream and the moment I woke up. But I will never forget the first time I dreamed of you.
© Copyright 2016 phwlofthenow. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Fantasy
Short Story / Other
Short Story / Flash Fiction
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