Thursday, May 9, 2013

Michaela

Seen on the Purple Line to Linden at about 8:30 a.m.

When your friends ask you to describe “the man of your dreams,” you usually cobble together attributes of various celebrities, fictional characters, and so on. Here’s the thing: there is literally a man of my dreams. He appears more nights than not, and I’ve never been happier than when I’m with him. Assuming you consider dreaming about somebody to count as being with them.

We met at a comedy show. (I don’t remember any of the jokes because apparently my subconscious wasn’t clever enough to make them up.) He was working behind the bar. I ordered an IPA, he complimented my smile, and the next thing I knew it was the end of his shift. We left together to grab some late-night breakfast.

Since then we’ve been on countless nocturnal dates. He took me to the aquarium once. I could feel the shadows of the big fish swimming over my body as he kissed me. Like it was real. Another time we went hiking. I twisted my ankle, and I had to wait for him to get help. When I woke up my leg still hurt. Last night he asked me to move in with him. Wonder if we’ll live in my dream apartment. Ha. Hey, let’s shoot big, since it’s all in my head anyway: dream house.

Sometimes, early in the morning, in my pre-coffee grogginess, I think I see him. Do you think the barrier between dreams and reality is thinner when you’re sleepy? I hope he’s chasing after me, doggedly pursuing a relationship that doesn’t exist exclusively in my brain.

A few nights ago I dreamed about a dream guy. Alas, he does not seem to be a recurring character. Although maybe he is and I just don't remember. I don't usually remember my dreams. 

Trivia last night was brutal. However, our team name was "The Great Catsby." We drew a picture of a very dapper cat with a female flapper cat companion. Also the eyeglasses and a speeding car. Viva delightful literary puns!  

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