I’ve been dreaming, the last week, about all my grade school crushes.
Each night’s strange mini-movie features a different boy. In all of them we’re all grown up now but somehow still in high school, and trying to escape strange circumstances. Last night’s was truly bizarro: My best friend, my crush, and I were on a field trip with our classmates to an amusement park at the edge of the world (and I do mean edge – it was right on the brink of a cliff, like the Cliffs of Dover), and the main ride was this huge version of those ships that you get in and it swings up back and forth, higher and higher, until you fly all the way around the circle (the amusement park back home calls it the Pirate’s Ship); only the one in the dream didn’t have any seats. You held on by handlebars and relied on your strength to keep you from falling and flying out to sea before plunging to your death in the surf at the cliffs’ feet.
I fell. I died but I didn’t die. Sea gulls were involved. A huge storm came up and everyone was running and hiding – the storm was alive and personal and going after individuals with lightning bolts. Crush and I had this unspoken, intense sexual energy between us. Best friend wasn’t picking up on it; she liked him too and they had a history. We wound up back at her house somehow. Then we were lost in the iron streets of a sort of post-apocalyptic/futuristic Pittsburgh by a river. There were unfamiliar designs of automobiles and a wacked-out bridge that worked by artificial gravity where you kind of stuck to the sides (like Minority Report). We were skyborn, floating above the bridge and looking down on the city. We bought ice cream. I think there were hovercraft. I don’t remember what happened after that.
Beats being chased night after night by murderous persons unknown.
But why all these old crushes? It’s very weird. Seriously, a different one every night. And I haven’t thought about these guys at all in years. But suddenly they’re there, every facial detail, every angle of their bodies, the way their hair lies, things I didn’t know I remembered, but made older, too.
It makes me miss them, and miss high school, and wonder how they’re doing. I’m not accustomed to nostalgia. I hated high school and was terribly glad to leave it and start my real life. So it’s putting me in a pensive mood, and I’m not sure what to do with it. Maybe it’s merely my subconscious delving into the roots of my occasionally-surfacing loneliness, as none of those crushes were more than secret, cherished yearnings...and none of my subsequent attempts at relationships with possibly, actually interested men have ever panned out.
What a funhouse.
2 comments:
i recently had a series of dreams about people from highschool. Since most of my close friends in high school were boys, it ended up that the dreams were mostly about boys. i took them to mean i was wishing for simpler times, when life was uncomplicated, unadulterated enjoyment, full of hope, expectation, and awkward sexual attraction that remained entirely unspoken and un-acted upon.
Life now as an adult sometimes just isn't as fun.
it was right on the brink of a cliff, like the Cliffs of Dover), and the main ride was this huge version of those ships that you get in and it swings up back and forth, higher and higher, until you fly all the way around the circle (the amusement park back home calls it the Pirate’s Ship); only the one in the dream didn’t have any seats. You held on by handlebars and relied on your strength to keep you from falling and flying out to sea before plunging to your death in the surf at the cliffs’ feet.
Copyright this quickly, or some reality show will steal it from you and produce it. Think Fear Factor: Cliffs of Dover.
Although now that I think about it, except for the death part, that does sound like a fun ride.
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