33. Who You Crushin' On?

66.9K 3.7K 787
                                    

The room is buzzing with light chatter when Ms. Garrison announces her arrival. "Find your partner. Today we discuss our dreams, so I hope you remembered to record them in a journal or computer, or however you kids do it these days."

She sets her stuff down on her desk and gives us a few minutes to get situated. I'm biting my nails because today is the day that I have to tell Trevor my dreams, and I'm dreading it because one of them happens to be about him. Kissing dreams are the ones you never confess to anyone because a dream is where all your wildest fantasies come to life; the fantasies you claim you know nothing about when awake.

I grab three yellow M&M's from the bag in my hand and stuff them in my mouth.

"Now, I'm not going to make you dissect each dream because we'd be here until Christmas," she goes on to explain and my lungs instantly suck in a relieving breath of air. "Just choose two."

And a lung has collapsed. Deflated. My hope has died, because I only had two dreams that I was able to recall, and the star of one of them is sitting right next to me.

"Okay, M&M, you go first." The nickname triggers something deep inside me, like someone picking at a scab.

I suck in a breath to cover up just how painful it was to hear and focus on our projects. I know Trevor senses something, but I speak before he gets the chance to question my reaction.

"Fine," I huff as I flip open my notebook to review what I wrote. I honestly don't need to because I can recall every detail of the dream to perfection, but in order to get my thoughts in order, I need the extra few seconds.

"So," I begin. "I had a dream that I was in a creepy, dark room. Kind of like a cellar or an old castle room. Not sure. Anyway, I'm sitting at a table and I'm surrounded by this black fog. Then this old man appears with shackles around his ankles, and he's yelling about regret and how he wishes it was me. It's strange though because I can't actually hear him, and yet I know exactly what he's saying. As he's screaming at me, he's suddenly pulled back into the darkness and there's a shift in scene. I'm still at the table, but now the man is forgotten and instead I'm surrounded by loads of food. It's basically Thanksgiving with the amount of food laid out for me, but as I reach over to start eating, all these bugs start falling out of my hair. I wake up when I start screaming."

"Uh, creepy?" Trevor's eyeing me with a mix of disgust and concern on his face. "Any idea what it means?"

"I don't know." I lie with a shrug.

He taps his pencil against the edge of his desk while he thinks. After a minute he perks up and turns to me.

"Okay, so maybe it's saying that you're too absorbed in yourself." He sounds excited, and I'm wondering if I should be insulted that he's labeling me as selfish on his first attempt at interpreting my dream. "So the old man represents the people in your life, and they're screaming at you for attention, but you're only interested in satisfying your own needs, hence the food."

He's rattling on as I sit with my arms crossed over my chest. "You think I'm selfish?" I ask. I'm more curious than offended. Is that actually how people see me?

"No," he responds as if in deep thought. "I think that's how you view yourself. Maybe you feel like you're not giving other people enough of your time."

I pretend to think for a moment, but I'm pretty sure I already know the real meaning behind my dream, and I'm not yet ready to reveal something that I've had buried for so long.

"Either that or you were just really hungry."

"Maybe." I laugh as I flip backward in my notebook to my first dream. "Okay, your turn, and then I'll tell you my other dream."

Porcelain Skin (NOW ON AMAZON KU)Where stories live. Discover now