I was woken just prior to 5:30 in the morning by a dream that means little, but is a welcome change. Five people sitting around a table in what is presumably my back yard. The only recognizable people are Cory and Melissa W., from high school. To start, it is only four of us females; no Cory. It’s not far into the school year, and for some reason, he comes up. I insinuate that I’ve slept with him, or dated him, or something of that nature, and this comes as a shock to Melissa, who immediately gets competitive. Cory shows up not long after, and she asks him to prom. I nudge him and mumble, “looks like we’re tied at 2,” denoting that we’ve each been asked twice now to be someone’s date. Someone else at the table, that I’m clearly close(r) with, starts wondering why I’m getting all huffy and puffy, but I quietly notion that I will discuss it when the other two females are not present. I begin “crate-walking,” which, quite innocently in the dream, seems natural yet a little screwy, not unlike my nature. I grab hold of the fence, hold the crate between my ankles as though it were a soccer ball, and begin to “walk” with it. I hear Cory mumble, “crate-walking,” with a chuckle, as though to say, “that crazy kid that I’m madly in love with.” As I near him and Melissa, engrossed in what appears to be a one-sided conversation, I hear him mutter, “I don’t want to go to prom with her.” Proud, I grin, and explain to the girl I clearly actually liked that there are so few smart people in the world.
My eyes snap open. (Literally; this is no longer the dream.) I haven’t been able to return to my slumber. I have to be “up” in one hour. I’m not sure that I should try for sleep anymore. But, reflecting, for one I’m sorry to Melissa, who I don’t believe is stupid and never displayed herself as such in high school, and on the other hand, it’s nice to dream about someone else–someone who isn’t Mike D. or Chris. Not that I dreamed about Mike D. much anymore, just that he would show up from time to time. And Chris — seriously, if I had another Chris dream (the going frequency is roughly once per week these days), I’d take a bath with a fucking toaster. But Cory — well, though a welcome change, I’m not sure I’m a huge fan. I mean, of Cory I certainly am. Of dreaming about him…not as much. It only forces me to recall the words of my mother, “if you guys wanted to see each other, you would,” or, “see? just like you made time to go to New Jersey for the party, you would be able to see Cory.” She’s probably right. So why have neither of us asked the other?
Ah, is that the link to the dream? My brain wonders why neither of us have asked the other “to prom” when we’d each been asked twice by others we obviously didn’t want to accompany us? Mayhaps. But…it’s not like it’s a Sadie Hawkins Dance! Or is that my cop-out? Clearly I’m still too nervous to date, despite liking myself when I’m with the Cor-Dawg (old high school nickname of his). He makes me want to be silly and fun, and let’s face it, who doesn’t enjoy being silly and fun?