All I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
What the fuck. This isn't fair. Why must dreams seem soooo much like reality, yet never become so?
Dreamt I was staying in this massive and awesome house, like maybe three floors at least, all wooden floors and snazzy. There might have been four or five other people staying in the house, one sort of reminded me of one of my werewolf characters (who in turn reminds me of Professor Lupin, lol), but the one of utmost importance was my Englishclassfriend. Yeah. I'm very pissed right now cos I'm realising I've forgotten loads of what happened, but mostly I remember... the lot of the household made our own "yearbook pages" on the backs of paper plates (lulz) and someone had written a phone number rather large-ish, but the only numbers of it I remember are '363', and maybe '-67somethingsomething', now that I ponder briefly. But I don't know if it was my Englishclassfriend's number or not. Damn. But I remember, liek....ummmm I don't know, whatever excuse would warrant someone to run around the house in jim-jams, but lo and behold......... but I refuse to complain. But then, THEN, the part that makes me curse the ability to dream, was at the very end. It looked like we were in downtown Seattle under the viaduct (which kinda makes sense cos he lives down there. Seattle, not the viaduct, lol), and we were talking, blah blah, then we fall silent, and then he picks up, very shy and hesitant yet grinning like a fool, saying "This...thing, that we have. Do you... what do you think about seeing where it goes? Do you... do you want to?", and with a grin just as big on my own face I say yes.
and then I wake up.
and I immediately want to cry because it seemed so real and so possible that it didn't make sense why I wasn't with him already, but then I remembered all the times that he seemed so removed and disinterested and stuff... and it just hurt.
Everyone has to be allowed to have at least one test run of honest-to-got love and being wanted and stuff. I've been waiting long enough. I'm done with all this unrequited shit. Give me a taste of the real thing, and something genuine, not just something half empty so I'll stop complaining. That's a cheap excuse for love and it's not fair to the other person.
Please. Just... please.