These Dreams # 2: Love is Destruction


Another day, another dream, and this one seems like a continuation of a rather striking one I had a year ago, not just in terms of cast but also theme.

Annoyingly , I can’t remember the precise details of what went on for the most of it; all I can remember consists of various rapport-building hijinks between me and this woman I know. (Vaguely, stuff involving social networks, and traipsing round retail areas causing chaos with a supporting cast of friends: chimerical memories lost in the fucking ether.)

However, I remember the end of it all pretty damn vividly.

We have an argument for some lost reason, during which she “confesses” affection for me.

“Can’t you see I like you, you stupid, stupid boy?”

To which I reply with a smile: “I guess I don’t deserve you.”

She then proceeds to go thermonuclear upon my saying this, making it pretty fucking clear I’m no longer welcome in her presence—don’t let the door hit your arse on the way out, MRDA! I pretty much figure that trying to pierce through her layers of rage would be a waste of time and take my leave.

After a certain amount of time (days?) had passed, during which I mulled over all the fun times we had, I decide to go over and resolve the situation. When I get round to hers, I notice she’s completely trashed her room over this—I figure she must really like me.

However, in a move which I’m unsure whether to classify as ‘scumbag brain’ or ‘welcome killswitch’, an overriding voice, my voice, cries out something akin to “YOU’RE WRONG—SHE LIKES HIM!”, seguing me slowly to consciousness with that act of will. Part of me felt relief; another part felt exasperation for not “sticking around” to conclude matters.

Amongst all the fuzzy and muddled thoughts that accompany waking from an intense dream, I felt something not entirely unlike deja vu, and not without reason: as I mentioned earlier, this hadn’t been the first chimerical episode featuring this femme. A year ago, we ran around in a dreamspace version of Stratford, a hotspot of the recent Olympic games and an area I loathe with a passion…except that I had so much fun with her, I didn’t give a fuck it took place in that shithole. We ran around laughing, joking, eating ice cream and generally getting high off each other’s presence…

…and later in the dream, the world came to its infernal end.

One woman. Two blow-ups: one metaphorical; one literal.

I wonder what message, if any, lies within this Neptunian Never Never Land…


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