Dream Me(14)

“What’s up, Babe?” he wants to know after about ten minutes. “You’re somewhere else tonight.”

“Just tired I guess. Haven’t been able to sleep . . . the heat, you know. And everything else.”

“I feel like I’m losing you.” He looks into the camera at just the right angle so it feels like he can see inside my head and read my thoughts. I turn away and pretend to search for something inside a desk drawer. This is unexpected. Or is it?

“You’re not losing me.” How did lying come so easy to me? I hate myself even while I’m saying it. And then a few awkward minutes when neither of us speak. I carry my laptop to the bed and lay down next to it. “Maybe,” I begin without knowing where I’m going with this. “Maybe something is happening. Maybe we need a few days apart from each other.”

“Apart from each other? Three thousand miles isn’t enough?”

“I meant . . . I meant maybe we should take a break. I don’t know what’s happening. I can’t explain it.” Am I such a bad girlfriend our relationship can’t survive a week apart from each other? Was I ever really a girlfriend to begin with? Hanging out and doing homework together and liking the same things doesn’t make you a girlfriend, does it? Kissing a little . . . okay, yeah, maybe that says a bit more, but you can still be friends and have some fun can’t you? You don’t get married to the first guy you make out with. Maybe these are questions I should’ve thought about before.

“No need to explain.” Perry’s dark brown eyes look wounded, even a little scared. It frightens me to see him this way. It frightens me to think I have the power to make someone hurt like that. I’d give anything to just fade away but instead he beats me to it and the screen of my computer goes blank.

I don’t even bother to get up from my bed. I just close the lid of my laptop and fall into a heavy sleep. Finally, the dream comes.

__________

RETURN OF THE DREAM . . .

I’m walking along the same stretch of beach where I’d seen the café in the past. This time I don’t look between the dunes, although the thought of a cold drink and the shade of an umbrella is tempting. It’s a perfect day and a Frisbee whizzes past my head on its way from one bronze-backed boy to another. Bikinied girls lay face-down on huge, fluffy beach towels, sizzling themselves into fan-tan-stic golden hues. A fat red man sits in a low beach chair staring out at the waves, a can of beer in his right hand. His arms are folded under the massive roll of his belly as though he’s tenderly cradling a stomach-baby. A woman who’s probably his wife sleeps on a towel beside him. Her face is covered by an open magazine.

Just like that, the sun’s shoved aside by a black cloud that grumbles like a giant’s empty stomach. The crowded beach is empty. Huge gray waves claw at the shore and I think I hear someone screaming but it’s only the wind.

Before I even see him, I know he’s right behind me. I turn around quickly to bring us face to face.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He glows, but not from the sun. “I’m sorry,” he repeats miserably.

“I know you,” I say. “You’re . . .”

“I’m Zat,” he says softly. “It’s difficult for you. This is . . . difficult for you. I’m sorry for the intrusion.”

“Yes,” I agree without knowing why.

“I’m the cause of all your pain,” he says.

“And all my happiness,” I add while feeling totally the opposite of happy, and wondering why those words are coming out of my mouth.

__________

I wake from the dream with a throbbing ache in my forehead that sends me running to the bathroom for aspirin. I’ve heard of recurring dreams but they’re usually the my-final-exam-is-tomorrow-and-I-missed-every-class sort. Or even worse, the my-period-started-unexpectedly-at-school-and-there’s-a-bloodstain-on-my-pants version. But this one was different. Real? Yes, it felt more real than a dream and yet it was a dream. Emotionally intense? All dreams are emotionally intense to some degree. I guess what bothers me is that it seems to be evolving. It’s leading me someplace I’m not sure I want to go. And yet the boy, Zat. His mystique is so seductive. I’m pretty sure I’ll follow him wherever he wants to go.

Am I trading a real boyfriend for a phantom?

Comments:

Sweetness: yes, i think so.

Sandman: weird

DreamMe: Perhaps you’ll have to wait and see where this goes.





Five


My last free day before work and I was deeply in the mood for shrimp. With nothing but wilted vegetables in our refrigerator, seafood became my new passion. I was now officially a pescatarian, and memories of tasty shrimp cocktails weren’t all that far in my past.

Nguyen’s was packed again, but as soon as I walked in I saw the girl who helped me the last time. She was scooping shaved ice into the display case and using the back of the scooper to smooth the ice into attractive frames for the merchandise. She looked up and grinned.

With a toss of her hair she tilted her head toward the end of the counter where presumably I was supposed to follow her. A long line at the cash register snaked out the door.

“I can help you,” she said quietly when we were out of earshot of the rest of the customers.

Guiltily, I looked over at the long line and noticed a large sweaty man glaring at me.