I had a dream last night. It was about a high school classmate I didn’t think would intrude in my dreams.
She was pretty in her own right: dark, smooth skin, white-toothed smile, almond-shaped eyes, and her curly, wavy hair carefully in check with a barrette. She also had a wonderful singing voice; deep, cool, and confident. I was a boy and when I gazed at her I thought she would be perfect for me.
I was already friends with her, but then when I told my intentions of courting her, she laughed and poked my chest playfully. She said that she just wanted to be friends. Hurt as I was, I never gave up. I hung out with her everywhere, protecting her and loving the minutes I was with her. She was brave and strong, but I knew deep down she was like a delicate flower that needed to be protected from the howling wind. There were times I almost kissed her, but I caught myself just in time, for fear of scaring her away. She did look at me with a secret smile and lighted-up eyes, so I think there’s still hope for me yet.
The only thing I remember was the camping trip. We were alone, yet I took care not to touch her. I respected her too much. We had two bunk beds a feet apart from another, but then I was surprised that she moved her bed closer to me. I looked at her questioningly, but she just smiled. She snuggled against my chest and I felt softness and pulled her closer. She felt wonderful that I was swelling with happiness, thinking that she might like me, finally.
And, of course, before I could watch this “good movie” to completion, I woke up. Gah.