Dancing In Her Sleep

Last night, I had a dream. Not the usual sort of nonsense that escapes my brain upon waking, and floats aimlessly around my brain, the ghost of a thought. No. It felt real. And it was perfect.

I was in a large dark room with flashing lights. I think there was music. It was a dance of some sort. (Alright, I know, this is already sounding awfully "middle school" already, but bear with me) It was in the high school cafeteria, not the usual gym. I liked this touch, even though it was strange. I have so many good and bad memories in that cafeteria; lunches, breakfasts. Time spent with Floyd, time spent with Jordan. Food and conversation, feelings and inspiration. Songs, poems, posts were inspired here. The gym can only produce sad poetry about tragic school dances. But the cafeteria? This is where good dreams belonged.

I remember spending a lot of the evening talking to Floyd, the same kind of haphazard conversation that flits around quickly, landing on a subject for a few moments before taking off again, touching down on the random and the complex with seamless grace.

There were still a few cafeteria tables scattered on one side of the room. I was sitting at one when it happened. A slow song had started, and that was why I had found a seat, a place to look away from the happy couples dancing that I hated to see. But (brace yourself for the cheese) ...

There is Floyd, and he is walking my way. He stops in front of me and extends one of his hands toward me. He smiles.

"May I have this dance?" he asks. For a moment, I just stare at him in surprise. "Not too close, if you that’s what you want."

That last part is kind of weird and it doesn't make sense now that I'm awake. In the dream, I didn’t ask what he meant, but now I’m really wondering. I guess he figured I thought of him as a friend, but I really do want to hold him close and I was going to let him know that.

I smile back at him and I take his hand. And then suddenly, I am outside of myself, and I am watching us dance. We don’t cling to each other for dear life like any other couple, a tangled mess of arms and kisses that it pains me to watch, half out of envy, half out of disgust. But Floyd and I waltz around the floor slowly like a prince and a princess at a royal ball. Even though I am watching all of this happen instead of living inside of myself, I feel his fingers between mine, warm. After the song ends, we buy ourselves some food, because how could either of us live without our usual abundances of food? We sit down and eat together just like at lunch, and I remember thinking that in school on Monday, I was going to ask him if he just danced with me because he felt bad for me. But as I think it, he reaches over and puts his fingers between mine again, and this time I am living in the moment when I look into his eyes, and I know that I didn't need anyone's pity tonight.

It was a dream come true.

I open my eyes and see light shining through the curtains over my window.

Oh, wait. Not a dream come true. Just a dream.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to go back again, but I can’t.

That world seemed so far away this morning, when I was trying so hard to go to sleep and find it again. But the truth is, that world follows me everywhere. I can visit it any time, but it only feels real when I sleep. But what if the real world and that world were the same thing?

Does Floyd ever dream about me? Does Floyd ever really think of me at all?

If there is a world where I get to hold Floyd without sleeping to find it, I would love to be a part of it.