October 2nd, 2006


Well I did say I would

I told queenglo I'd write this dream up, so here it is. Basically, I wasn't me, I was Danny. This happens every so often; Danny is a guy in my head who goes out with Dawn, whom he met in a previous dream where I was him and she was her, but I didn't learn her name until the following night, when I found it on a plaque in a mausoleum. (I mentioned this in comments to gonmon.) I just sort of came up with the name Danny when I wrote it in my journal, and it stuck.

It just gets weirder from here.

The dream I had last week sometime (Wednesday, I think) was a prequel, a "how they met" kind of thing. Danny comes home every night to find that his place has become Party Central. No parents and a nice big house can do that. People are crashing all the time. This goes on for maybe a week. Yeah, I repeated the sequence of Danny coming home from wherever he was seven times.

The very last time, though, I don't just go straight to bed (or the couch, since there's usually someone else in my bed) because there's this girl. A girl I never saw before, a girl who doesn't usually go out for the whole house-party scene, a girl who is trying valiantly to enjoy herself in the face of abject relative boredom.

So what else could a gentleman like myself do? I go up and introduce myself. And lo and behold, we hit it off. What do ya know? She's all confused, not used to the idea of crashing, so I let her figure it out while I check out the other rooms. One dude is passed out in my parents' room next to the cat. I trust my friends will find a Sharpie with which to draw on him. Everyone else is clearing out, so I head to my room.

And there's Dawn. She didn't realize it was my room. That's okay, I tell her. We'll just, uh...

"Is this gonna get awkward?" We look at each other, her with the blanket up around her body, me standing and waiting for approval to belong in my own room.

Is this gonna get awkward? She smiles and says, "no."

I can't help but notice when I wake up that I have Radiohead running through my head.

She looks like the real thing
And she tastes like the real thing
My fake plaaaa-AAAA-stic love!
But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run...

I, not Danny anymore but I, lie in bed. I don't particularly want to run. I'd like to be who you want, all the time.