Dreamers

Six rows of books, up the escalator. Hang a left. Past four rows and to the wall, pick a book. Sit. Wait. Glance up, wait. Read. Wait. Read. Wait. Read. Wait. Sigh.


It was the second week of my seemingly endless, dull, dreary, and clearly pointless routine. I was repeating the same steps every night and expecting different results. I remembered hearing somewhere that this was a sure sign of either madness or stupidity. At this point, it could have been either. But even so, there I sat, in a lonely chair near the gay and lesbian section in Barnes and Noble, reading (for the third time) a book called “Same Sex in the City: So Your Prince Charming is Really a Cinderella.”

My madness started when I woke up one Thursday morning about two weeks before. Well, technically, it started a few hours before that. It started with a dream. Even though it began a long and agonizing cycle of desperation, it’s the best dream I’ve ever had; and even then, sitting there in that ridiculous chair in the corner, I didn’t regret having it.

She turned away, giving me a small look as she opened the refrigerator. I stood sort of behind her, watching as she rummaged. You’re cute, I thought at her. Her lips curled into a grin. And I know you can read my mind, I thought.

She closed the door and turned, smiling. “Yes,” she said, coyly, and walked away. I felt a sudden rush. My heart was racing. I turned around to follow her, and then decided against it. Instead, I sat down on the couch next to my mom. About a million thoughts started rushing through my head. First of all, she was gorgeous. Absolutely beautiful. And secondly, she could hear my thoughts. So she must know how I felt about her. She could probably hear my crazed thoughts as I sat there. But at the moment I didn’t feel like that was important. In any case, if she could read my mind and knew how I felt and it bothered her, she wouldn’t be acting this way.

It was making me a little uncomfortable. Up until now, if I found a girl attractive, I could keep it to myself. Make myself crazy over it, maybe, but at least it wouldn’t be awkward. But now… now I couldn’t pretend that I didn’t feel this way. I would have to talk to her about it. Or something.

Just then, she walked back over to the living room and came to stand in front of me. “Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked me.

“Sure,” I said, standing up to follow her.

She led me away into the hall and stopped abruptly, turning to face me. I ended up very close to her face, and couldn’t react quickly enough. I was inches away from her face, and all that I could think about was how amazingly green her eyes were, and how perfectly the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose matched her features, and how her hair may have been the most amazing shade of auburn that I could imagine. Of course, this all ran through my mind in a matter of about half a second.

God, are you beautiful, I thought. She laughed. “Thanks,” she said. And it hit me then, kind of like a bus and a freight train and a hundred gazelles and a jet engine all at once. In that instant, I knew that I loved this girl. No, not only that. I was in love with this girl. Head over heels in love with her. I wanted to scream it and cry about it and laugh and dance about it. But I just stood there, very close to her, allowing the thoughts to run through my head at their full intensity and only half realizing that she was able to hear everything.

I looked back at her eyes, blushing, and saw that she was smiling the most incredible smile I’d ever seen. I couldn’t imagine how I had gotten so lucky as to be standing face to face with this fantastic girl. This girl that I loved.

And then I woke up.


For several minutes after waking, I didn’t want to open my eyes. The dream had slipped away deliberately and languidly, but the very first thing to escape my focus was her face. It was the last thing I’d had in sight but, sadly, I could no longer remember her beautiful features. I could only recall that she had green eyes and auburn hair. How strange- how infuriating, really, when I could remember exactly the layout of her house and even the contents of her refrigerator.

Eventually, I made myself get out of bed, but I couldn’t bring myself to open any of the blinds or turn on any lights. Instead, I sat in the dark and listened to sad music for hours, thinking only about her, trying to conjure up an image of her face. But nothing came. And eventually, sometime later- maybe hours, maybe days- I headed out to Barnes and Noble, wandering around, glancing at each female face, hoping ridiculously that she would somehow be there. I ultimately found myself in the gay and lesbian section. I felt that if I should be anywhere, it would be there. I scanned for people, faces. No one. Then I scanned the books. I picked up "Same Sex in the City", sat down in that lonely chair, and began to read.