Dreamer's Stories

Remembering Insomnia

2008-09-04T02:46:22Z

After a moment of silence I sighed, “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”
“No,” he agreed.
I sighed, “Right.”
We were silent for another moment. Finally, Drew spoke again, “Paige… I don’t want to, to push you… but you told me once that I had to let other people in, I couldn’t do this alone… have you ever tried taking your own advice?”
“I prefer to be a hypocrite,” I said lightly.
“Paige.” His voice was disapproving.
I sighed, “I can’t sleep because I’m an insomniac. Chronic Insomnia. Primary.”
He looked at me blankly. I sighed, “Primary means it’s not due to medical reasons, such as stroke. It’s psychological. I wake up frequently in the middle of the night.” I sighed again, “I was on sedatives for awhile but it’s… controversial to use those for Chronic Insomniacs, because… well, dependency and all that fun crap.”
He glanced down, “You’ve spoken to a doctor.”
I rolled my eyes, “I practically diagnosed myself. I used to work at a hospital in Florida.”
He looked up in surprise, “Really?”

Remembering Avoiding the Subject

2008-09-04T02:32:49Z

“Weird,” I repeated slowly, and then shook my head, “Right.”
She sighed, “Can we not talk about this?”
“Okay,” I shrugged, “What would you like to talk about?”
She blushed suddenly and looked away, “I don’t know.”
I frowned, confused, and tried again, “So, school is… interesting.” I couldn’t quite say the word fun.
She snickered, “Oh yes, very interesting.”
“I’m just trying to avoid talking about the most obvious subject there is to talk about,” I defended.
“Try the weather,” she suggested dryly.
I rolled my eyes, “I hope it snows enough that we won’t have school.”
She smiled, “Me too.”
I sighed, “Paige…”
“I know. I know. It’s just… painful,” she grimaced down at her hands.
“So painful you can’t sleep?” I asked quietly.
She suddenly glared at me, her eyes flashing, “I can sleep just fine, thankyouverymuch.”
“Right,” I muttered to myself, “You just have bags under your eyes so dark they look like bruises.”
“Shut up,” she snapped. Apparently Paige had better hearing than I thought.

Remembering Apologies

2008-08-28T01:16:19Z

“Unrealistic how?” he asked.
I snorted, “Like this Sawyer guy has the same freaking stubbly beard even though they’ve been stranded for a month.”
He shook his head, “That’s sad.”
I chuckled, “I know. It’s just to make him look sexy.”
he turned towards me curiously, “Do you think he’s sexy?”
I blushed and looked down, “Not particularly. He’s not my type.”
“Ah. You prefer your men clean-shaven?”
I rolled my eyes and shoved him, “Oh whatever.”
He laughed, and I marveled at the sound, “That sounds like a yes.”
I rolled my eyes again and concentrated on the TV, “So would you rather watch a movie? I’ve got some DVDs.”
He frowned, “How on earth did you have enough money for all this stuff anyway? I mean, this is a really nice TV.”
“I already had it back home in Florida. It was one of my dad’s… apology gifts.” I made a face.
“He attempted to buy your forgiveness?” He sounded shocked and disgusted.
I sighed, “He’s spent too much time with hollywood people. Some are okay, but most are kind of… weird.”

Remembering TV Shows

2008-08-28T00:46:51Z

When Paige came back she looked kind of embarrassed. I wondered if the dryer had broken or something. She sat beside me, giving the TV a cursory glance, “Anything good on?”
I shrugged, “Is there ever?”
“Colbert,” she suggested shrewdly.
I let out a low chuckle and countered, “House.”
She grinned, “I must agree with you there. House is awesome.”
I grinned, “He cracks me up.”
A funny look crossed her face, but she turned away before I could figure out what it was. “Have you ever seen Lost?” she asked.
“Nope,” I shook my head.
She laughed, “It’s weird. I never watched Lost until just last weekend. But I’ve totally had dreams about being stranded on an island before. And they’re bizarrely similar to what happens in Lost.”
“Isn’t it confusing to start watching it in a later season?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Youtube. I’m on episode 17 of season 1.”
“And you just started watching it?” I asked critically.
She chuckled, “It amuses me. Some parts are so unrealistic, and others are just plain funny.”

Mixed Signals

2008-08-20T03:28:13Z

I don’t understand. You just confuse me so much. One moment you act like you want me, the next I can’t tell what you want. What do you want?
I wonder how many poor flowers have been plucked dry because of you. At this point, I don’t think there’s any accurate way to tell. I might as well ask the dead flowers.
Do you love me? Or do you not?
I don’t know. I can’t tell.
Is it because you’re nervous? You’re nervous that I don’t love you back? I want to tell you I do, but… how can I? When I don’t know how you feel? Is that what you’re feeling too?
Or do you really not love me, not as more than a friend. You like me, sure, as a friend. But every now and again you get worried that I do love you, so you distance yourself. Is that it? Is that why?
I know you aren’t messing with me. We’ve been friends for too long. I know you. I just don’t understand you.
I want to understand.
Please help me understand.

Remembering Laundary

2008-08-14T22:35:20Z

“I’ll be fine,” he replied, even using the whole tough-guy expression. The effect was sort of ruined by a violent shudder that rippled through him.
I rolled my eyes, “I’ll get you a bathrobe and stick your clothes in the dryer.” “Um.”
I laughed, “Unless you’d rather die from being cold and wet.” when he didn’t look any more reassured I added, “The robe isn’t pink, if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s white.”
He cracked a smile at that and I ran to get it. When I came back he’d already pulled his shirt off, and I tried not to ogle as I handed him the robe. I was about to get him a towel when I realized he’d already gotten himself one.
“You can use the guest bathroom,” I nodded down the hall and skipped back upstairs to my room to change.
When I came back down he was sitting on the couch, flicking through the channels on the TV.
Before I could ask, he said, “I put my clothes in the laundary room.”
I went and put them in the dryer, trying (and failing) not to look at his boxers.

Remembering Cold

2008-08-14T22:23:43Z

I imagined myself drowning where I stood; drowning in a sea of numbness as the pain slowly trickled away. The nothingness was different than what I’d used to strive for, because I wasn’t alone, not really. I could still feel Paige’s hands pressed against mine, a subtle reminder.
And then I noticed they weren’t just pressed against mine. They were trembling.
I opened my eyes and looked at her. She was shivering; her eyes closed and lips blue.
“Paige,” I gasped.
She opened her eyes, concerned, “What?”
“Get inside, you’ll get sick.” I was starting to feel panicky again.
She laughed sardonically and dropped her hands muttering, “I’m already sick.”
I didn’t stop to contemplate what she meant by that. I rushed her back inside and grabbed a towel (I’d been to her house so much by now I knew where everything was), handing it to her. “Go dry off and get changed,” I ordered her. She looked like a small child, all wet and defenseless.
She eyed my own, sopping figure for a moment, “What about you?”

Remembering Pina Coladas

2008-08-13T00:55:28Z

He took in a ragged breath as I turned. I’m pretty sure I looked like shit. Earlier, I’d kind of felt like shit. But not now, the rain made me peaceful. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Do you like Pina Coladas?”
“And getting caught in the rain?” he grinned, “Not really.”
I rolled my eyes and beckoned to him. After a moment of deliberating he stepped toward me.
“Leave your shoes and socks on the stoop,” I directed before he could get them all muddy.He smiled and conceded.
Then he came and stood next to me, the rain splashing down on his head and rolling down his face like tears. “Now what?” he looked slightly amused.
I lifted my hands (ignoring that they were shaking slightly) and cupped his face, slowly redirecting it upwards to face the sky. Unwillingly, I dropped my hands and whispered, “Close your eyes.”
I lifted his hands then, but instead of opening them out, I left them upright between us, my palms pressed into his. I tilted my own face back and let the rain wash through us.

Remembering Stripped Away

2008-08-13T00:44:37Z

She sighed, looking frustrated as she turned away and walked into the other room. I stared out at the rain for a moment, wondering why life always had to be so hard. I jumped when I heard a door slam. “Paige?” I called out in surprise.When I got no answer I hurried through the house. When I couldn’t find her anywhere I started panicking, but then I caught sight of her through a window in the front of the house. Oh, so it’d been the front door she’d slammed.
I hurried out, “Paige?”
She had her back to me, her face upturned to the sky, her hands outstretched, palms upward. She didn’t reply me right away. “I like the rain,” she finally said, turning toward me. She was soaked through. Why did I have to be such a moron? She must have been standing here for at least five minutes while I’d run around inside the house.
The rain was running down her face, trickling away any traces of make-up. It was shocking how deep the bags were under her eyes. It was frightening, like her last defense had been stripped away.

Save the Sun

2008-07-23T19:42:21Z

You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach? When it feels like the fear might swallow you whole? Like there’s no escape… because there isn’t one?
When you come to a place for a specific purpose, shouldn’t you be sure of your decision?
But what if you’re not?
What if you’re terrified?
What if everything goes horribly, horribly wrong?

I shudder violently as I tread down the path into the cold, dark forest. I wonder bleakly if I’ll ever see the light of day again, or if this is it. That I’ll die here, never to feel the warmth of sunshine on my face, feel the prickles of a forming sunburn, or have to shield my eyes from the bright, fiery light.
But if I don’t risk it, if I don’t take a chance, none of us ever will.
I must try.
I must try to save the sun.

I am Jesse (Take that!)

2008-07-22T20:06:37Z

I slid into the locker room, amid the steam and raucous laughter of the guys. I sighed, well, here I go.
I got to my locker and yanked it open (who actually bothers to lock those things anyway?). Out of the locker tumbles several packages of condoms, to the uproarious laughter of the guys. I sighed; I’d expected something like that.
“Wow guys,” I said turning around, “Who skipped lunch to go buy all those? Or are you guys such whores that you had that many already?”
Those who knew me better fell silent, looking away awkwardly.Those who didn’t (such as Dave who said, “We thought you might need some for your new girlfriend.”) continued chortling.
I walked up to Dave, slapping a smile on my face, “Have you met Ceirra yet?”
He snorted, “No, who’d want to?”
Pow
Blood spurted out of his nose as I knocked him to the ground with one punch. I spun around, glaring at the rest of them, “Anyone else have a problem with Ceirra?”
The locker room was deafeningly silent. “Good.” I turned away from them to change.

I am Anima (Happy)

2008-07-22T19:54:06Z

Dinner went well; my mom was impressed with Jake. Actually, I was impressed with Jake. He had impeccable manners and politely complimented my mom’s cooking. I was so relieved. No worries about Mom then.
Dad was slightly more difficult. He’s really possessive of his ‘little girl’ (thanks, Dad) but Jake quickly won him over when he began chatting about sports. I’m beginning to think Jake is perfect… but I’m trying not to, because then he’ll be too good to be true. Sigh…
When I dropped him off at his house, he kissed me lightly on the lips, making my heart pound in my chest. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, see you then,” I breathed as he got out of the car. It took me a second to regain the conscious use of my mind and drive away, floating on a cloud of joy.

Remembering Rain

2008-07-17T22:42:03Z

I glanced down at Drew, he was leaning forward to pick up the potatoes off the ground. He finally stood up and put all the potatoes on the counter. He stared at them speculatively and then turned back to me, “They didn’t really fall did they?”
I sighed and shook my head, “I had an anger management issue.”
He smiled slightly, “I thought as much. Poor potatoes.”
I grimaced, “Oh sure, pity the potatoes.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, taking my joke too litterally.
“Don’t be. I was kidding,” I sighed, “So… what do you want to do until the pizza gets here?”
He shrugged, staring out the window pensively. It had started to rain. “That bothers you doesn’t it?” I asked softly.
“What does?” he asked, turning to look at me in surprise.
“The rain.”
He turned to look back out the window, “I was just thinking about something my mom said about it once. When the doctor said I’d soon be ‘right as rain.’”
“What’d she say?”
He let out a short, hard laugh. The first laugh I’d ever heard from him, “Oh it was nothing.”

I am Cooper

2008-07-17T22:26:27Z

“Johnny,” I corrected myself, and then continued, sitting at a barstool, “Remember Brit?”
‘Johnny’ frowned, thinking to himself, “Chick that you were obsessed with when you first started comming here?”
I nodded, “Yeah, her.”
“What about her?”
“I hooked up with her on Saturday.” I grinned, triumphant, but then amended, “She’s kind of pissed at me right now though.”
He laughed, “Some hook-up.”
I shrugged, “I dunno though… I was thinking that maybe… maybe I’d you know, like, date her…”
‘Johnny’ dropped the glass he was cleaning and stared at me, “Cooper? Are you feeling ok?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
He bent down to pick up the cup (it was plastic, Ha! and I’d though all his cups were glass. I should have known better).
I laughed, “Actually, I’m feeling great.”
“I want to meet her.” he proclaimed loudly. A couple making out in the corner paused to glance at us and then went back to their business.
“You know,” I commented, “This is a really weird Cafe, Jarl.”
“Johnny,” he corrected.

I am Cooper.

2008-07-17T22:13:42Z

I was on Martini number two, staring thoughtfully at the opposite wall.
“You need to get yourself a girl, mate,” ‘Jack’ quoted.
I laughed, “I’ve got a girl…” then I remembered that afternoon, “Actually, I don’t anymore. But I had one.”
‘Jack’ rolled his eyes, temporarily dropping his persona, “Case and point.”
I shrugged, “Girls are stupid anyway.”
‘Jack’ shook his head mournfully, “No mate, you just gotta get the right one.”
I chuckled, “And what is that, exactly?”
“Who is that,” he corrected, “Now think, what would you really like in a girl?”
I opened my mouth, about to say ‘good sex’ but for some reason I said something else, “Someone like me.”
“hmm… and how are you like?” he asked.
The Martini blurred in my vision as I mumbled, “Messed up.”

It was Sunday, and I was back at Jalf’s cafe. the broken bell gave a half-hearted ring as I entered, it was a painfully broken sound: like smashing small bits of tin together.
“Hey Jack-” I began, but he cut me off.
“Johnny,” he corrected.