Dream > Reality ?!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
This story is based on the memories of a dream that I had.I told my friends about it,and they thought it would be good if I could fashion it into some form of literature,so this is my stab at it!Enjoy...

Submitted: August 01, 2010

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Submitted: August 01, 2010

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Who is normal? Is there a definitive answer ,or is everyone slightly fractured in the mind?

One way to measure this ,perhaps ,is by the situations in which people place themselves in their dreams. No, not their aspirations and fantasies, their actual dreams, the zany alternate reality which only comes out to play when we sleep.

You know, some people dream of piles of chocolate, some less fortunate just dream of piles. Some dream they are falling, some dream they are flying, which is possibly the same, but I digress.

I have no particular pattern of dreams. Sometimes they're happy(ish),sometimes they're a bit unhappy, but they are always, always absolutely uncatergorisable(is that a real word, the spell checker didn't think so?!).

Always bizarre, and worth repeating for the pleasure of my friends. It may well be the only time they listen to me, such are their own natural volumes!

An example, one of the more vivid and unforgettable ones; I'm in a bar, having a beer, alone. People around me drinking and chatting away, socialising I believe it's called. I happen to look to the other side of the bar, and spot two young attractive women, One is ridiculously stunning, long bronzed legs, flowing blonde locks, piercing blue eyes, and a cheeky little derriere which demands staring at.

Her friend, also pretty, but compared to her blonde sidekick, looks like a bag of spanners. But hey, I'm not the confident and suave kind of guy to brazenly skulk over and deliver a shocking and borderline offensive chat up line. So this situation is lost on me, back to my drink, looking into space, occasionally turning around to take in the second hand socialising, seeing as I'm not doing any of my own!

A brief passage of time passes, don't worry nothing interesting happened. I'm still sitting on my lonesome, sipping my by now warm and slightly pissy beer, when I see the lesser pretty of the two aforementioned girls walking toward me, I can only assume she's going to the toilet, wherever they are, or generally stretching her legs.

I catch her eye and she coyly smiles at me, well I think it's at me, but my limp ego won't allow me to believe that.

Back to my beer, looking and tasting like yellow water by now, not particularly refreshing. I feel I light tap on my shoulder...it's the girl!

At this point I'm thinking this isn't really happening(in the dream, not in reality obviously!),she's probably come over to tell me to stop looking at her and her friend before they get me put on the Sex Offenders Register!

But no, she smiles again and softly says, "Hey, you waiting for someone?"
I respond in what can only be described as inaudible muttering at first, but then answer more eloquently once I've reeled my tongue in.

You see, standing alone without her blonde friend, this girl is also stunning, deep dark eyes, shoulder length brown hair, slender but in no way skinny body. To be honest, this is the kind of girl I would normally be looking at, had her spectacular friend not completely scooped the spotlight.

But anyway, she puts me at ease, she's cool, easy to talk to, very charming and funny. I'm pretty much letting her do the talking because I can't think of anything of note to say, and she is evidently better at this than me!

I buy her a drink to keep her in my company, not that I needed to because she seems quite happy chatting to me, but it seems like the thing to do. She says to me, "I like you, you seem like a nice guy, can I have your number?".

I'm looking about for Jeremy Beadle to jump out, but then I remember that he passed away, so that quashes any fear that I'm the subject of an elaborate hoax!

Of course, I agree to give her my number, still slightly dizzy from the fact that a great girl, a stranger effectively, wants my number. This never happens, not in reality, or in good dreams!
 
So I’m waiting for her to hand her phone over so I put my digits in, but she pulls out this old brown book from her bag, with odd pieces of paper hanging out of it. I have no idea what is to entail, little bit confused as to how we went from me giving her my number to her pulling out what looks like a raggedy old scrap book.
 
She says, ”Write you number in here, just putting in into my phone is so impersonal, do you know what I mean?”. I do not know what she means, suddenly she strikes me a tree hugging hippie type, who has ever uttered such an unexpected sentence before? It’s not that impersonal, it’ll have my fucking name next to it too! Does this girl even have a phone? Is she actually in her 90’s or something? Am I going to have to wait for her to contact me by homing pigeon?!
 
Anyway, enough, I’m not about to start slating the girl just because she has just shown herself to be a tad weird, after all ,no one is perfectly normal, whatever that actually means. So of course I say yes, give me the book and I’ll write my number in there. She cutely smiles, hands it over to me with a pen, and says, ”I’ll be back in a sec”, and slinks off, taking all of her quirky loveliness with her.
 
I open the book, there’s nothing too weird in there, no birds eye view floor plans of the Bank of England, no listed addresses of known criminals, no crude sketches for a vigilante costume. Just page after page of silly little scribblings, nothing concerning. Phew.
 
I carry on flicking through it until I find a blank page, or at least enough space to jot down my name and number. I find a nice crisp white page, only one thing left to do before I can claim this lame solitary beer by myself blossomed into a raging success!
 
Pens in my hand, numbers in my head, here goes. First things first, write your name, simple enough, right? Start with the first letter, then the second, then…hang on ,go back and write it again, the first letter looks like a dyslexic chimp wrote it. Do it again, calm down. Its not every day a beautiful girl asks for your number ,so just take a breath and write it again neatly, and foremost, make sure it’s readable ,you don’t want to miss out on a date with this girl because your handwriting hasn’t got any better since you were four years old!
 
Try again, pen to paper, nice and easy…bloody hell, what’s wrong with me! It’s not any better than the first time, it looks like I jammed the pen in my ear and attempted to write. It’s ridiculous. Scribble it out, it’s no good.
 
You may see a pattern emerging here, and this pattern continued for the foreseeable future. This once gloriously bright white piece of paper is now a mangled monster, covered with scribbles, cross outs and odd deformed letters like they were all bastard children of each other. I’m never going to be able to do this ,it’s not even complicated, not like she asked me to conceive an idea for alternate fuels!
 
I’m really starting to get pissed off with this, so I just start doodling random pictures, seeing writing my name is currently out of the question! Somehow, some way, I’ve managed to draw, and draw very well might I say, a picture of the girl and Michael Jackson in a cheesy hugging pose! It’s quite an achievement seeing as I didn’t even know what I was drawing and it ends up being a photo-quality image of a beautiful girl and the legend MJ!
 
Anyway, self adulation aside, I need to get this number down, and just to add pressure, the girl returns. ”I take it you’re all done now, I need to go now, so give me the book and I’ll give you a call soon yeah?”. Err yeah give me a sec. I quickly open the book again and rapidly thrash out my name and number, wow its readable! Maybe having her there was the kick up the arse I needed, rather than having half an hour to do so and letting my mind wander to the point of being a borderline genius illustrator!
 
She takes the book, gives me a soft kiss on the cheek and leaves. I’m left sitting there, quietly happy with myself, trying to work out how I came out for a beer and just generally wanting to get away from the indoors, to meeting a stunning girl, chatting to her for a while and ending up giving her my number .Not a bad outcome at all, It has to be said.
 
But my biggest concern by far, is that she better give me a call as it was possibly the most arduous task I ever carried out! And I hope she likes the picture I drew, I did it just for her, kind of….


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