Last night, as I was thinking about my last day of school, my thoughts digressed several times to the girlfriend I had at the time. I cared a lot about her, and I ended up not going to the college I had planed, and instead, followed her to the school she picked. This presented quite a few problems, but that's a long story for another day. Anyway, I had an interesting dream last night, which took me back to that age and those times. And to her.
Like most dreams, I only remember fragments -- flashes here and there, which, when put together mean a lot. Whenever I write about dreams, I take all the fragments I can remember and fill in the holes with fiction. It's fun, and it allows me to add a little more depth to the metaphors.
***
In my dream, I'm with the girlfriend I had back in high school. It's her birthday. I walk to her house, carrying a carton of cigarettes. The day is beautiful, the sun directly overhead. Inside her house, I don't see her, but I spot her friend Julie. She has a yellow ribbon wrapped tightly in her hair.
"Why is everyone stuck inside?" I ask. "It's so nice out."
She says she didn't know. "Ask Justin," she offers, referring to my girlfriend's brother.
I find Justin in the basement, smoking. I ask him the same question, and he just shrugs his shoulders. Staring at the carton of cigarettes, he takes a drag, and then another. With nothing left for me to say, I walk back upstairs. I pass through a group of old friends, making my way to the second floor, finally stopping in front of the bathroom next to my girlfriend's room.
"There you are," my girlfriend says from behind the closed door.
I step closer to the door, and her voice tells me to push it open. I immediately notice that the light isn't on, and I can't see a thing. I take a step forward, then another. Once inside, the darkness seems more profound. There is a thickness to it, like fog. After a few moments my eyes adjust, and I get the sense that she's standing directly in front of me, waiting for something to happen. I reach for the light switch, but before I get to it, a hand grabs me from behind, pulling me back out into the hallway.
The hand belongs to Julie. She just stares at me. I start to speak but she stops me with her own words. "Whatever happened to your carton of cigarettes?" she asks, the ribbon no longer in her hair.
Before I could answer, though, it starts to rain.
