71. It's None of Your Business

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When I opened my eyes, there was no smell of earth, grass, and dirt. There was no sound of running water. I was in a crowded, warm pub with loud chatter and shouting all around me and I have to admit I was disappointed. What was I expecting anyway? That she'd have the same dream twice? Bondy and his nonsense about recurring dreams, my arse. I picked up my pint and nearly poured it on myself when someone bumped into me.

"You almost made me spill my drink," I complained, turning around to see who he was but whoever he was had disappeared into the crowd. There was no way I'd find who ran into me.

Since I was turned around, I took the opportunity to look around. The interior of the pub wasn't one that I recognized and I've been to several around the city, mind you. It looked like a generic pub with pieces of different real-life pubs put together. It managed to look familiar yet unrecognizable at the same time if that's even possible.

The pub was full of people I didn't recognize but that was because they didn't have a face. At quick glance, they appeared human, but the longer you looked, the more you noticed something was wrong. I couldn't make out any features which was the telltale sign that I was dreaming.

Even though the pub was crowded, my eyes seemed to know to look towards the bar and that's where I found her. Florence was wearing a black cocktail dress which was too fancy for the place but she looked stunning and I couldn't help but stare. Her legs were crossed which hitched up her dress causing my eyes to wander down the length of her legs to her heels. She was sitting alone with a cocktail but everything about her oozed confidence and....

A man walked up to sit beside her which caused me to lose my train of thought. Florence uncrossed her legs and sat up straight to give her neighbor some room and began stirring her cocktail with a straw and then she took a sip. He had plenty of room to his left but he felt the need to be close to Florence which made her slightly uncomfortable. You could tell by the way she moved away and she kept to herself not wanting to strike a conversation with the stranger just yet.

He said something to her because Florence turned her head to look at him. Now I was annoyed that I couldn't hear their conversation. What was he saying? I studied their body language. Florence was leaning in slightly to hear him better and nodding her head occasionally. Even though I couldn't see his face, he didn't look like anyone I recognized but you could tell he paid attention to his appearance. He was wearing a blue button up with his sleeves rolled up and black trousers. He looked like he had just gotten off work and was drinking a few pints to unwind.

Whatever they were talking about must've been interesting because they've been at it for a few minutes and then the man called the bartender over to order a drink. There was a fuss. He must've been adamant about buying Florence a drink because I could see her shaking her head and lifting her drink to show that she already had one. And then he placed his hand on her shoulder to say that it was okay and his hand stayed there a few seconds too long which bothered me.

Is this how it always is when she goes out for a drink? She'll catch someone's eye, they'll approach her, and flirt with her by being nice and buying her drinks? Well she's an adult and can do whatever the hell she pleases but doesn't it get tiring after a while? Don't you long for someone to have a meaningful relationship with rather than one night stands? She deserves better than that. I turned back towards the window and downed the rest of my beer trying to not think about her too much.

I'm supposed to focus on the purpose of this dream which is to replicate what happened last time but how are we supposed to do that when there's no lake, no witch, and no frog? Well I guess having a lake and a witch are nice-haves but not required. What's actually needed is a frog that she can kiss and someone to persuade her to kiss it. The problem is where am I gonna get a frog?

REM // Van McCannWhere stories live. Discover now