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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