I have entertaining dreams. I guess.

Why else would anyone ask me if I’ve had any lately? They want to hear about them? (note: read that last in my baffled voice, not the one I use for the rhetorical questions)
Except…

I don’t like it. If it was anyone else…
But it’s not. And that makes it peculiar in a different way.

These dreams are never the ones with the chocolate dragons or the demonic locomotives or the black horse telling me he is God. Not even the ones where things are trying to kill (drownelectrocutecrucifyeat) me.
Just ones where we are talking. They are very unexceptional dreams. Except that, every time I have one, I also have the unshakable feeling that, not only is (are?) the person(s?) in my dream aware of the dream, but that they had the same dream.

It’s unnerving. It’s the sort of thing that comes to mind when we encounter each other and just look at each other for a long time without speaking.

You know them–those instances when you see someone thinking…studying you…but you don’t ask why. There doesn’t seem to be any reason. Except the unavoidable curiosity that I know I always have in such situations. (the italicised voice that asks me if they see the same thing, and the knowing in bold that they do) But I don’t ask. I am paranoid, after all. It makes me think of the chess-like conversation I am having with K about why this is particularly fascinating to me. (who else could understand? who else could fully grasp why I am going to the airport at 4am?)

It’s maddening, in a way. The knowing that you are trying to understand something…and the feeling that someone else is also trying to understand something…and the unspoken knowledge that you are both aware of each other, but that nobody will say anything because nothing can be said.

So you just watch each other think. And occasionally ask about each other’s dreams.
Because dreams are entertaining.

(On a more linear note: I am excited to tell you that not only have I been dating my favourite redhead, @raiderjester for two years now, and that those two years have been some of the best and happiest of my short life, but that I am for reals going to the airport at 445 to go see my friend, Melody, whom I have not seen since May of 2011, and even that was only for a few hours…I am excited to see her. You wouldn’t know unless you paid very careful attention to my posts, but I write about her a lot. I miss her.

It’s an added bonus that there is not a single movie theatre from my chain within 50 miles of where I am going. Not that I hate work…I just need some time away from it.)

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