b and e
Insomnia. Woke sometime before 4; who knows how long I lay there before looking at the phone. Finally gave up and went to the bathroom, drank some water, read a bit more A Prayer for Owen Meany and eventually had sleep part 2. It wasn’t so great either but I did remember this dream. Sleep part 1 had some dreams in it, too, but I don’t remember those at all.
Went to Stanley’s house in the middle of the day, when I figured he wouldn’t be there, to take some of my things. As I headed back upstairs from the basement, it hit me how different everything looked. (This would have been a prime moment to realize I was dreaming and become lucid.) The steps to the basement, for instance: there were only two or three instead of- I don’t remember, maybe 10. The kitchen was larger, extending back into where the TV room should have been. Large windows on the back wall. Wooden cabinets that went all the way up to the ceiling. More counters.
I heard a noise at the front door and went to investigate. It was Stanley putting heavy musical instruments and equipment on the porch. They were all zipped inside black canvas cases. I opened the door and said, “Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
On my way back into the kitchen I noticed the living room: it was much larger, with hardwood flooring and two overstuffed couches out in the middle of the room perpendicular to each other. They walled in a large, burgundy ottoman that served as a coffee table. I noted that I liked what Stanley had done with the place.
Later, we were eating on some sort of back patio that must have been part of the house, even though we never had anything like that. Stanley and I hugged and stood pressed against each other like that for long moments.
“Does this mean you guys are getting back together?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. But I did know: I definitely did not want to. I didn’t want to open myself up to that again, even if things seemed calm and happy now. When I answered I sounded agonized, but that wasn’t because I couldn’t decide. It was because even though I didn’t want to be with him anymore, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
Went to Stanley’s house in the middle of the day, when I figured he wouldn’t be there, to take some of my things. As I headed back upstairs from the basement, it hit me how different everything looked. (This would have been a prime moment to realize I was dreaming and become lucid.) The steps to the basement, for instance: there were only two or three instead of- I don’t remember, maybe 10. The kitchen was larger, extending back into where the TV room should have been. Large windows on the back wall. Wooden cabinets that went all the way up to the ceiling. More counters.
I heard a noise at the front door and went to investigate. It was Stanley putting heavy musical instruments and equipment on the porch. They were all zipped inside black canvas cases. I opened the door and said, “Oh, hey. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
On my way back into the kitchen I noticed the living room: it was much larger, with hardwood flooring and two overstuffed couches out in the middle of the room perpendicular to each other. They walled in a large, burgundy ottoman that served as a coffee table. I noted that I liked what Stanley had done with the place.
Later, we were eating on some sort of back patio that must have been part of the house, even though we never had anything like that. Stanley and I hugged and stood pressed against each other like that for long moments.
“Does this mean you guys are getting back together?” someone asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. But I did know: I definitely did not want to. I didn’t want to open myself up to that again, even if things seemed calm and happy now. When I answered I sounded agonized, but that wasn’t because I couldn’t decide. It was because even though I didn’t want to be with him anymore, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.