It's been nearly a whole year since my last post and so much has changed in that time. Indeed, I'm sure any readers I once had have long since given up on finding any news of the latest leg of the "journey". The weird thing is, I'm not even sure how or when this blog became irrelevant to me. At some point, it went from being one of the few things sustaining me to being just another thing I no longer had time for.
Yet, here I am, writing a new post...
No longer confused, he sits down and observes that which surrounds him. He knows nothing of what it would bring, only that which is shown in tv shows. It doesn't stop that desperate yearning though. The article still lays open on the table, shining in the mid-morning sun of the first genuinely summery Sunday morning. So many questions answered, in just a few short paragraphs... Mockingly simple.
Or, is it just like all those other conditions that the hypochondriac within him sees. But they're all real too, aren't they? There's no point hiding it anymore. That much he now knows. He has ups he has downs. He gets excited by another's touch and lonely upon rejection. He feels an emptiness, one that most probably extends from the fractured relationships he currently keeps up. One that his yearning aims to fill. And , now he knows all this, he realises that to find his true happiness with another he must find happiness with himself first. He knows his flaws, sees them all, struggles against them, succumbs beneath them. He deflects the praise for his strengths, few and far between. He looks in the mirror and smiles, satisfied, not due to a change, but to a change of heart. It's taken him a long time to accept imperfection. A very long time.
He accepts himself, and needs no acceptance from others. No gratification.
All he needs now, is one to share the rest of his life with. Someone he can love and who will love him.
He places the crumb-strewn plate on the sink and heads off on his date
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 23, 2009
He's Perfect: The Second Prequel
As it's title suggests this is one in a series of connected stories. To read it in it's full context, please check out "He's Perfect" in the archives.
I ran out the door and along the path, oblivious to the calming expanses of grass on either side. Without knowing where I was heading, I followed the path. As I rounded a curve the obscuring tree yielded, allowing me to see Dad's car. What was Dad's car. I couldn't take it, screaming, I bolted in the opposite direction. Across the grass, slightly boggy from the heavy rains of the past week. Soon, a fence appeared. One of those with little ability as a barrier, but one that contributed to the overall appearance of the grounds, therefore justifying the money for it and granting it the title 'fence'. I jumped over it and landed on the footpath on the other side. Without breaking stride I then left the footpath for the bitumen of the road. Suddenly, a blaring noise appeared. The sharp spikes and troughs of a heart monitor filled my brain and I became completely immobilised. The car's horn continued on and on. It cut into my head completely overwhelming the already overwhelmed. The driver, a man, was getting furious now. Soon, his window was lowered and he added his angry voice to the cacophony. Cars banked up behind him and more voices and horns were added to the horrific choir.
I had completely lost control. A part of me was willing them to run me down. The same one that also longed for one of the drivers to get out of the car and beat all the pain out of me. That's why I didn't flinch when I felt arms wrap around me from behind. I didn't even brace myself for the impact, just stood there waiting for it. But it didn't come. Instead, the arms gently steered me back the way I had come. I was too overcome to resist. So, I let myself be led back towards the place I hated above all others. I attempted to lift myself back over the fence. But in a battle of superior feebleness I won. So I found myself being lifted off the ground and over it. However, my feet didn't meet the ground again once I was safely back inside the hospital grounds. I found myself being carried, faintly aware of the squelch as we crossed the grass. Then I felt the solid feel of wood against my back as I was placed on a bench. As my rescuer sat down next to me he was finally revealed. My brain did not recognise him, but that was not saying much. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
"Are you ok? Would you like me to get you a nurse? How can I help?" I responded slowly. Leaving the first, unnecessary question unanswered I simply shook my head. Right then left. I just sat still after that, paralysed by the devastation in my life. "Ok", he said, as he wrapped his arm around me, "Everything's going to be alright." Because I was desperate for the fantasy, because I needed the comfort, because his arm was the only thing connecting me to this world, I sunk with his arm and buried myself in his side. A thin layer of muscle covered his rib. This tensed slightly as his arm brought me closer into his embrace. His hand stroked my head. Just for those moments, I forgot about everything that had happened. I was back at home, with Mum comforting me after a bad dream. I stayed like that, in a trance for, in all likelihood, hours. After a while his t-shirt was damp from my silent tears, but he made no effort to dry it. No effort to discomfort me. Every now and again he would say something. Never anything substantial, but always something comforting and nothing my warped brain couldn't morph into my mother's voice.
At one point a nurse must have come out trying to find me. Seeing me with Him, she informed him what had happened. She'd tried to get me back inside. There were forms that needed to be filled in and the bed needed to be cleared for another patient. He told her it could wait. Knowing him very well, she let it go, leaving me in his very capable hands. "Ben. I'm here for you. I can stay as long as you need me", he told me once she had left. "But if you'd like, I could take you to somewhere more comfortable, where you could lie down?" This time I nodded. He gently pushed me so that I was once again sitting upright. He stood up, moved in front of me and with the hand that still clasped mine, he pulled me to my feet. I was vaguely aware of this being the first time I had actually seen his face. Somewhere inside a part of me registered the compassion on his face and most of all in his eyes. Not sympathy or pity, but true and pure compassion. Allowing me to set the pace, we edged towards the hospital doors. At the steps I stumbled, forcing him to stabilise me. From then on his hand released mine and his arm swung around my back, supporting me, once again.
Eventually we made it to his room. A small, single room with a bed and not much else. He lay me down on his bed, slid a chair beside it and sat down. He grabbed a firm hold of my hand again and his other hand went soothingly to my head. "You're here now. You're safe. You can sleep now." So I did.
When I awoke, he was still there, sitting beside me, holding my hand, but his attention was directed at the nurse. They conversed too quickly for my groggy brain to follow, but soon, she returned with some food. Some of the first light of the day was making its way through the window, lighting up the room. It could have been my state of mind, but to me, it seemed to shine an intense spotlight on Him, highlighting his golden hair. "Hello Ben", he greeted me warmly, "How are you feeling? Julie's brought you some breakfast if you'd like it." Immediately, I became aware of my rumbling stomach, and I was unable to recall when I had had my last meal. I fed myself, although weakly, forgetting to thank the nurse before she left.
When I had finished, I turned to the guy who had entered my life so welcomely. "What was your name?" He told me and I placed it in my memory bank's most secure vault. This would be a name I would treasure until the day I died...
I ran out the door and along the path, oblivious to the calming expanses of grass on either side. Without knowing where I was heading, I followed the path. As I rounded a curve the obscuring tree yielded, allowing me to see Dad's car. What was Dad's car. I couldn't take it, screaming, I bolted in the opposite direction. Across the grass, slightly boggy from the heavy rains of the past week. Soon, a fence appeared. One of those with little ability as a barrier, but one that contributed to the overall appearance of the grounds, therefore justifying the money for it and granting it the title 'fence'. I jumped over it and landed on the footpath on the other side. Without breaking stride I then left the footpath for the bitumen of the road. Suddenly, a blaring noise appeared. The sharp spikes and troughs of a heart monitor filled my brain and I became completely immobilised. The car's horn continued on and on. It cut into my head completely overwhelming the already overwhelmed. The driver, a man, was getting furious now. Soon, his window was lowered and he added his angry voice to the cacophony. Cars banked up behind him and more voices and horns were added to the horrific choir.
I had completely lost control. A part of me was willing them to run me down. The same one that also longed for one of the drivers to get out of the car and beat all the pain out of me. That's why I didn't flinch when I felt arms wrap around me from behind. I didn't even brace myself for the impact, just stood there waiting for it. But it didn't come. Instead, the arms gently steered me back the way I had come. I was too overcome to resist. So, I let myself be led back towards the place I hated above all others. I attempted to lift myself back over the fence. But in a battle of superior feebleness I won. So I found myself being lifted off the ground and over it. However, my feet didn't meet the ground again once I was safely back inside the hospital grounds. I found myself being carried, faintly aware of the squelch as we crossed the grass. Then I felt the solid feel of wood against my back as I was placed on a bench. As my rescuer sat down next to me he was finally revealed. My brain did not recognise him, but that was not saying much. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore.
"Are you ok? Would you like me to get you a nurse? How can I help?" I responded slowly. Leaving the first, unnecessary question unanswered I simply shook my head. Right then left. I just sat still after that, paralysed by the devastation in my life. "Ok", he said, as he wrapped his arm around me, "Everything's going to be alright." Because I was desperate for the fantasy, because I needed the comfort, because his arm was the only thing connecting me to this world, I sunk with his arm and buried myself in his side. A thin layer of muscle covered his rib. This tensed slightly as his arm brought me closer into his embrace. His hand stroked my head. Just for those moments, I forgot about everything that had happened. I was back at home, with Mum comforting me after a bad dream. I stayed like that, in a trance for, in all likelihood, hours. After a while his t-shirt was damp from my silent tears, but he made no effort to dry it. No effort to discomfort me. Every now and again he would say something. Never anything substantial, but always something comforting and nothing my warped brain couldn't morph into my mother's voice.
At one point a nurse must have come out trying to find me. Seeing me with Him, she informed him what had happened. She'd tried to get me back inside. There were forms that needed to be filled in and the bed needed to be cleared for another patient. He told her it could wait. Knowing him very well, she let it go, leaving me in his very capable hands. "Ben. I'm here for you. I can stay as long as you need me", he told me once she had left. "But if you'd like, I could take you to somewhere more comfortable, where you could lie down?" This time I nodded. He gently pushed me so that I was once again sitting upright. He stood up, moved in front of me and with the hand that still clasped mine, he pulled me to my feet. I was vaguely aware of this being the first time I had actually seen his face. Somewhere inside a part of me registered the compassion on his face and most of all in his eyes. Not sympathy or pity, but true and pure compassion. Allowing me to set the pace, we edged towards the hospital doors. At the steps I stumbled, forcing him to stabilise me. From then on his hand released mine and his arm swung around my back, supporting me, once again.
Eventually we made it to his room. A small, single room with a bed and not much else. He lay me down on his bed, slid a chair beside it and sat down. He grabbed a firm hold of my hand again and his other hand went soothingly to my head. "You're here now. You're safe. You can sleep now." So I did.
When I awoke, he was still there, sitting beside me, holding my hand, but his attention was directed at the nurse. They conversed too quickly for my groggy brain to follow, but soon, she returned with some food. Some of the first light of the day was making its way through the window, lighting up the room. It could have been my state of mind, but to me, it seemed to shine an intense spotlight on Him, highlighting his golden hair. "Hello Ben", he greeted me warmly, "How are you feeling? Julie's brought you some breakfast if you'd like it." Immediately, I became aware of my rumbling stomach, and I was unable to recall when I had had my last meal. I fed myself, although weakly, forgetting to thank the nurse before she left.
When I had finished, I turned to the guy who had entered my life so welcomely. "What was your name?" He told me and I placed it in my memory bank's most secure vault. This would be a name I would treasure until the day I died...
The Four (3 and 1)
A fair while ago now, this appeared in a post on MY LITTLE NOTEPAD: "In my head I heard, 'Where is he? Is he here? Please let him be here, let him see me.'" This is the story that it led to...
I don't know what to do. All of a sudden I can't turn a corner without bumping into one of the three. Or even more torturous: being stuck alone with the fourth one. Two of them look quite similar though one is a couple of years the elder. It is the hair mainly that makes this so. All of them much taller than I am. Fitter than I am. Hotter than I am. Each of the three I wish would just shut their mouths, close their eyes and remove their tops. I've given up on that faintest hope that they'd one day look at me with the knowledge that comes from a close bond shared between lovers. A passive neutral response is the best I can hope for now. I hear them talking and it nearly makes me reconsider how I feel about them; the way they are objectifiying women. But then I see them and my insides just melt away to form an entire swarm of butterflies. One of them, also, has a voice that doesn't fit the illusion. Forces me crashing back down to reality. I am not so superficial that none of the other things matter...
The one I had the most contact with, through my soccer, has almost vanished completely from my life, now that the season has changed. I enjoyed him being around, especially in the changerooms. I enjoyed the way he mucked around with the other members of the squad in his year level, without realising that by doing so he was bringing to life some of my most desired homoerotic fantasies. But now that he's not, he has moved out of his lot in my subconscious. It's similar also, in the case of the look-a-like. Although, every now and again he pops into my thoughts, this happens more and more rarely as his contact with me becomes non-existent. The third one though, is the oldest of the heart throbs. His apartment was rented out long before the other two came onto the scene and he is still a tenant today. His appears to be more than a mere business transaction. The literal shine of his hair and that cute face to die for! I don't know much about him apart from what I have seen myself. But what I have seen is enough to keep me coming back for more for a long time yet. His is the attitude of confidence. It is so seductive, from the way he presents himself to the way he walks.
All of them would have few objections from the general population if they were to wear less. Lets face it, their bodies are S-M-O-K-I-N-G! And they know it. Thankfully, this means at every chance they get they're not afraid to show it off. To the ladies of course, but it works on me just as well. I just wish I could let them know how impressed I am. That they would respond in the same way they would if the feedback came from a girl.
And then there is the fourth one. The forward one. The tease. He is the one that, jokingly or not, suggests all the things that have been going through my mind since he entered the room. The illusion I have created with him, is not that far from reality. The strip tease revealing that smooth, toned body and done with a cheeky grin plastered across his face, would not be so far out of character. Acting on his lewd suggestions would be. He would be the dominant one, playing the part with experience and skill. Ashamedly, I would be his willing servant; desperate to please him so as to please myself. Thoughts of romantic exploits are banished by the reality that he would use me and move on to his next source of pleasure. But damn, it wouldn't stop me from doing it, if he ever did use actions instead of words. For actions are much harder to misinterpret.
And so, the days of their company are drawing to a close. But, whenever I'm around the place, in areas I might see them a small part will always be thinking, "Where is he? Is he here? Please let him be here, let me see him."
____________________________________________________
A quick question to loyal readers of my blog:
Do you have a preferred person which you enjoy reading my posts in? 1st, 2nd or 3rd person?
I don't know what to do. All of a sudden I can't turn a corner without bumping into one of the three. Or even more torturous: being stuck alone with the fourth one. Two of them look quite similar though one is a couple of years the elder. It is the hair mainly that makes this so. All of them much taller than I am. Fitter than I am. Hotter than I am. Each of the three I wish would just shut their mouths, close their eyes and remove their tops. I've given up on that faintest hope that they'd one day look at me with the knowledge that comes from a close bond shared between lovers. A passive neutral response is the best I can hope for now. I hear them talking and it nearly makes me reconsider how I feel about them; the way they are objectifiying women. But then I see them and my insides just melt away to form an entire swarm of butterflies. One of them, also, has a voice that doesn't fit the illusion. Forces me crashing back down to reality. I am not so superficial that none of the other things matter...
The one I had the most contact with, through my soccer, has almost vanished completely from my life, now that the season has changed. I enjoyed him being around, especially in the changerooms. I enjoyed the way he mucked around with the other members of the squad in his year level, without realising that by doing so he was bringing to life some of my most desired homoerotic fantasies. But now that he's not, he has moved out of his lot in my subconscious. It's similar also, in the case of the look-a-like. Although, every now and again he pops into my thoughts, this happens more and more rarely as his contact with me becomes non-existent. The third one though, is the oldest of the heart throbs. His apartment was rented out long before the other two came onto the scene and he is still a tenant today. His appears to be more than a mere business transaction. The literal shine of his hair and that cute face to die for! I don't know much about him apart from what I have seen myself. But what I have seen is enough to keep me coming back for more for a long time yet. His is the attitude of confidence. It is so seductive, from the way he presents himself to the way he walks.
All of them would have few objections from the general population if they were to wear less. Lets face it, their bodies are S-M-O-K-I-N-G! And they know it. Thankfully, this means at every chance they get they're not afraid to show it off. To the ladies of course, but it works on me just as well. I just wish I could let them know how impressed I am. That they would respond in the same way they would if the feedback came from a girl.
And then there is the fourth one. The forward one. The tease. He is the one that, jokingly or not, suggests all the things that have been going through my mind since he entered the room. The illusion I have created with him, is not that far from reality. The strip tease revealing that smooth, toned body and done with a cheeky grin plastered across his face, would not be so far out of character. Acting on his lewd suggestions would be. He would be the dominant one, playing the part with experience and skill. Ashamedly, I would be his willing servant; desperate to please him so as to please myself. Thoughts of romantic exploits are banished by the reality that he would use me and move on to his next source of pleasure. But damn, it wouldn't stop me from doing it, if he ever did use actions instead of words. For actions are much harder to misinterpret.
And so, the days of their company are drawing to a close. But, whenever I'm around the place, in areas I might see them a small part will always be thinking, "Where is he? Is he here? Please let him be here, let me see him."
____________________________________________________
A quick question to loyal readers of my blog:
Do you have a preferred person which you enjoy reading my posts in? 1st, 2nd or 3rd person?
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Newly Found Freedom
Nearing one week of freedom, it's a strange feeling. For one, The Four (more on them soon) will most likely vanish from my life forever, now that ties with school have been broken. It is probably better that way but still...
On the other hand, a whole new world is opening up for me, if I'm brave enough to take that first step. And for me, it is a big one.
Besides, all the free time ahead of me is both relaxing and inspiring. It is the longest break since before age 5, with nothing at all to interrupt it and no plans! Should give me a chance to really give this blog a work-out. To branch out a bit. To experiment, experience and enjoy.
Write soon.
SHOUT OUT: Kitty if you are reading this... Miss your entertaining posts muchly...
On the other hand, a whole new world is opening up for me, if I'm brave enough to take that first step. And for me, it is a big one.
Besides, all the free time ahead of me is both relaxing and inspiring. It is the longest break since before age 5, with nothing at all to interrupt it and no plans! Should give me a chance to really give this blog a work-out. To branch out a bit. To experiment, experience and enjoy.
Write soon.
SHOUT OUT: Kitty if you are reading this... Miss your entertaining posts muchly...
Monday, November 9, 2009
No Magic
The magic isn’t running through my veins. The Elders had said to be careful, to make sure that I kept in practice or I could lose it forever. Stupidly, I ignored them and focused on more important things. It was there, it was always there. Nothing I did, said or thought, could change that. If only…
My arm is tensed; the veins are popping out, but still nothing. The glow is gone. The sparkle, the flow of pure power are no more. Instead, a tear glides slowly down my cheek as I rue what once was, what could have been. Gravity takes hold and the tear accelerates in its fall. I accelerate in my fall. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now, I can see how focusing on my Tasks lead to me neglecting so many other things. So what if I couldn’t practice outside of home and the Learning Place. Was it really worth gaining that ability to lose this one.
It is the thing that separates each of us and makes us unique. We, all alike in physique, have one vital difference in our appearances. All of us are distinguished by our aura. Our colouring that, because it is directly linked to our own magic, takes on a new shade. My skin, once the most violent of radioactive greens has dulled to moss. Dying moss. The tear, with its slight green tinge falls to my shoulder and then down my arm. It traces my vein to my wrist where it stops; its journey complete. Soon it will dry up, to be replaced by the lightest of marks. I watch, waiting for this.
And I wait. And wait. And wait. No evaporation, no mark. Now the tears are really flowing. A stream floods my face and yet again I wish could go back...
My arm is tensed; the veins are popping out, but still nothing. The glow is gone. The sparkle, the flow of pure power are no more. Instead, a tear glides slowly down my cheek as I rue what once was, what could have been. Gravity takes hold and the tear accelerates in its fall. I accelerate in my fall. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Now, I can see how focusing on my Tasks lead to me neglecting so many other things. So what if I couldn’t practice outside of home and the Learning Place. Was it really worth gaining that ability to lose this one.
It is the thing that separates each of us and makes us unique. We, all alike in physique, have one vital difference in our appearances. All of us are distinguished by our aura. Our colouring that, because it is directly linked to our own magic, takes on a new shade. My skin, once the most violent of radioactive greens has dulled to moss. Dying moss. The tear, with its slight green tinge falls to my shoulder and then down my arm. It traces my vein to my wrist where it stops; its journey complete. Soon it will dry up, to be replaced by the lightest of marks. I watch, waiting for this.
And I wait. And wait. And wait. No evaporation, no mark. Now the tears are really flowing. A stream floods my face and yet again I wish could go back...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Reflection (amongst other depressings)
I see now when the dream died. I stopped believing in the fairytale and saw a reality...
Did you see what I see?
Did you feel what I feel?
Did you see what I see?
Did you feel what I feel?
Friday, August 28, 2009
The Dream
He comes to you in a dream, though it is so realistic you don't realise this until afterwards. The dream is unlike any others you have had: it is in no way sexually-motivated or wet. There is no primal desire nor does it leave you waking up the next morning with a mess to clean up and questions as to how loud your expressions of ecstasy had been. In fact, it is almost no different to your life. Although, It is not a problem and neither is He.
No, this time you start off in a public place with your mother. You are accompanying her on a weekend errand run and currently find yourself at the bank. In a queue. Where else?! As you wait you have a look around the bank, trying to find something interesting in this most mundane of places. Your mother is worrying about what she needs to explain when she finally gets to the desk, so the stilted conversation you had been having has now ceased. Your eyes have explored the entire right wall, with all its grand posters each exclaiming, in bright letters, a different spectacular feature of the financial institution where you are stuck in line. Your eyes continue to wander around the room, ever moving clockwise, when you notice someone your own age is waiting in line behind you. He sees that you have become aware of his presence and without hesitation he remarks, "Boring isn't it? I hate banks and their stupid promo posters, though I'd have to say that one is my favourite." You both chuckle at the poster proclaiming the nation's best customer service.
You wonder whether he realises he has revealed, inadvertently or not, that he has been watching you for a while, by this comment. Granted, they are the closest thing to interesting here, but your gaze and attention left the posters a long time ago. But apparently, you've managed to catch his interest and, for once, keeping up a conversation with a complete stranger is easy for you. Without needing to think about it, the words, questions and answers slip smoothly from your lips.
Without drawing your attention away from your newly found connection, your mother has reached the desk and had her worry sorted out. She makes her way over to where you are, as the lady at the desk becomes increasingly impatient with he who has made the remainder of your wait go in a flash. However, now it is his turn. "This won't take long", he informs me before rushing up, apologetically, to the desk.
"He seems nice." These words bring you back. Your mother is smiling at you.
"He's a friend of Jarryd's", you explain. Not because you need to hide this from her, but because, just for the time being, you want to keep what you have found in him, hidden.
Your eyes return to the desk, where he is finishing up. You take note that he has managed to put a smile back on the desk lady's face. It seems he is quite good at creating smiles. He reaches you and your mother, "Is it okay if I tag along with you for a bit?", he asks. Instantly, a 'yes' bursts to the edge of your mouth, but before you can let it out, your mother's, "sure", beats you to it. You wonder if she can feel the glow off of your face as she says this. "What did you say your name was?"
"Henry."
You like the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. The way it suits him and how you know it's a name you'll never forget.
The three of you wander in and out of the various shops as you work your way down the list of errands. All the time the conversation flows freely between you. He is not daunted by her, indeed, he takes it in his stride effortlessly. His confidence and easy-going nature put you at ease, while his smiles and the sparkle in his eye as he looks at you, send your heart racing and give birth to many a stomach butterfly.
When you have come to the end of the list, you're mother looks at you, knowingly. Without you even needing to ask, she gives you the answer you had been wishing for, "I'll see you when you get home. I trust you'll make sure my son gets home safely, Henry."
"You've got it Mrs G. I'll drop him off once we've finished here." With that your mother leaves you about to melt, as you wonder how this day could get any better. And then it does as he wraps his arm around your waist and directs you into the next store. It's a clothes store and the normally boring activity has found a sudden new appeal.
He takes you to the jeans section. "Mind helping me pick out a pair?", he asks, "It gives you an excuse to have a good look!" Although this could come off as arrogance in many people, that word couldn't be further from your mind or the truth about him. Though the smile that spreads to his face would give him enough reason to be, if he was like that.
"What? You mean to say I haven't already?!" He laughs and then grabs two pairs and ducks off to the fitting rooms.
Before long, he is back out with you, modelling them as if on a catwalk. In your opinion, he should be on a catwalk, although, having said that, that would mean you'd have to share this experience with others. Let's just keep him modelling for you, you think. Every pair he tries on looks great, but eventually the two of you narrow down the options and finally pick one. After going to the counter, he tells you "I'd better get you home. I don't want to get on your mum's bad side."
"I don't think that's possible. Even if she likes you only half as much as I do." You beam as you say this and he beams back at you.
"Still, if I wasn't allowed to see you, I don't know how I'd cope." With that he leans over and kisses you. It feels so right and you know this is where you belong.
You walk back to his car, he chucks the jeans in the back and opens the passenger door for you. You slide in and he hops into the driver's seat. "Now", he says, "where are we going?" You realise, with a shock, that this is just the first time you have met. He doesn't know where you live, even though you have spent the day feeling like the two of you have known each other for years.
You tell him where to go and how to get there. When you are a street away he pulls over and you begin to tell him he has gotten a little confused, but then you realise what he is doing. You lean over to him, as he does the same, and that feeling of being home returns, growing stronger.
Once you are done, you regain your composure, and make sure you look all neat and tidy. He pulls out onto the road again and drops you off outside your house. "Thanks for today. I had a great time", you confess and you can't resist kissing him again before you leave.
"You kidding? The pleasure's been all mine. So, I'll see you at Jarryd's?"
With a moment of poise you didn't know you possessed, you reply, "Maybe. We'll see..."And with that you leave, with a skip in your step.
The week drags along ever so slowly and the weekend seems like a far-too-distant mirage. But, eventually, it does come and with it, the party at Jarryd's.
You arrive and you immediately start looking for him. He finds you, greets you with a kiss and a firm hug. "I thought you'd never get here," he tells me. "There's this place I found that I want to show you", he informs me as he grabs your hand and leads you towards the park that backs onto Jarryd's place.
The party has obviously been going on for a while, because as you walk, you pass various couples who have claimed their own bit of grass. Their shameless displays of intimacy, many of which should definitely have moved to a bedroom, would normally have made you uneasy. However, with Henry by your side, you feel like you could handle anything. You reach the edge of the trees and as you walk underneath the first one he takes your hand and places it on his hip, drawing you closer to him. "I hope you don't mind, but it's a bit chilly." He smiles. As do you. He knows this late summer's night couldn't be described as chilly by anyone's standards. But he doesn't need an excuse anyway, "As long as your happy to do the same for me", you say.
"That was the plan", he confesses and the cheeky grin returns to his cute face.
And then his face blurs, the trees fade away and you notice the feel of your doona on your skin. With a rapidly sinking feeling you realise it was just a dream. You wish with all your might that it wasn't so, but you can't escape the truth. You grab at the the few fragments of the dream that remain, willing yourself back to him. But you can't get there. The problems return, as menacing as ever, and He blows his nose. An air horn, blasting you back to reality...
The significance of Him having no part in a dream that felt so perfect does not escape without you noticing. But more than that, the dreaded isolated feeling returns and it nearly brings you to tears. It had felt so real. So right. He had been completely original, so unlike many of the guys you had defined as your 'type'. Nevertheless, you and he had fit together. You belonged together. Yet he was merely a figment of your imagination, trapped in the world that was The Dream. The one that you would never, ever, forget...
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Things are getting pretty hectic at school, so I doubt I'll be able to post anything more before the holidays in about 3 weeks time. I hope this is enough to tide you over until then...
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