Dream Girl

I had a dream that my throat was swelling, and I couldn't breath. I tried to get the attention of some hippies around me, but they were too stoned to notice my frantic waving, and so I had to go running after my mother. She said not to go to the hostiptal, it wasn't a big enough deal. When I awoke, my breath still seemed to be gone, and I immedietly thought, "I have to go," which was stupid because I could speak, I didn't need to be rushed into the emergency room. But I still felt the terror that my dream had brought to me, the bright colors and uncaring looks.1

So I thought of a different dream, one with Door. Mmmmm. The sexy beast Door, yes, that one. I had been laying on a staircase, and he came to lay beside me, and pluck at my hair. And it felt so unbelievbly wonderful when he stroked my back and stomach, I just stared at him with my mouth open, not daring to breath. Not wanting to breath at all, in fact. I just wanted to stay there, with him, forever, letting him touch me.2

I forgot about my nightmare and snuggled back into my palm tree sheets, thinking only of Door. He was my brother's friend, not someone I ever talked to, just looked longingly at. I had more contact with him in my head than in anywhere else. It was a good enough place. I could make him anything I wanted in my head: if he was a jerk in real life, in my head he was sweet and soft and like God. If he made fun of people in real life, and I'm telling you he did, my day and night dreams presented him as a silent observer. I must have some clouds in my eyes. 3

At that time (3:27 a.m.) I wanted to go back to my dreams, in hope that I'd be with Door, in a place that I could breath but didn't need to.4