I’m in my car, but someone else is driving. We’re going up a steep hill, the driver is trying to accelerate way too fast, burning my transmission. I try telling ’em stop, slow down, ease into it, be gentle, but the speed demon driver isn’t listening.
Now I’m at a house party. There’s not many people there yet, but somehow I get knocked over. I look up and my high school ex is there, walking towards me like he’s gonna hit me. I can’t stand up, my legs won’t work so I scurry backwards on my ass. “Why do you look so afraid” he asks. “Just stand up.”
People start arriving, but I don’t want to see anyone who’s there. “Your hair looks so pretty lighter like that” a girl says to me. “Thanks, yours too” I reply, because I could tell she just got her hair done. My hair wasn’t any different than usual; I hadn’t changed.
People keep coming in, getting more crowded. I go to the other room, try to find somewhere to lay down, but soon that room fills with even more people than the last one.
I’m in the car again. “Slow down!” The sound of the transmission keeps getting higher and higher pitched. The hill is getting
until we’re almost vertical.
Now I’m in between people on a crowded couch. Another high school ex is there, smiling, laughing, but I can’t make out what he’s saying over the sound of the party. I walk into another room and fall down again.
I’m on the floor, reaching for a drink. A glass of water is on top of a dresser that doesn’t have any drawers. The water looks cold, fresh, with beads of condensed water forming and falling down.
A high school teacher is there; I tell him I want to leave. He tells me that I can’t leave like that. I can’t drive like that. I can’t do anything as I am now.
I’m in the car and we’re falling,
falling back to that crowded room full of people that I don’t know or care about, who don’t know or care about me. Will I end up on the floor again, or finally learn to stand?
I wrote that immediately after waking up on December 27th, 2019. It’s been in my drafts ever since then.
Five months after this dream, I broke up with my boyfriend of almost 5 years over text. I couldn’t do it in person.
When I got home, all of my clothes were thrown into a pile on the floor in the spare room. The dresser drawers were there, too.
Back in the bedroom, there was that same empty dresser, missing it’s drawers and sad as ever.
I had forgotten about that dream. About the dresser.
Life is funny.
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