melanieb

This dream was powerful enough to affect me even after I woke. I still have the visions from this dream in my head. The moments of lucidity were both realistic and surreal. I feel lonely after dreaming this.

[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]A friend and I are walking around downtown at night.Something serious has happened and we need to get off the street, get tosomeplace safe. I know I’m not in danger but my friend is. I knew she was indanger and needed to get as far from the situation as possible, so I decide weshould head to my mom’s house.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]We go to the house I shared with my mom back in the 90’s yetthe house still appears as it did then, with a few additional rooms that neverexisted in real life. I send my friend into a downstairs bedroom to clean upand change and my mom goes to get a few things to help her out. I head upstairsto get cleaned up myself. [/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I begin to undress, knowing that my door isn’t fully closedand quietly hoping that my friend will come into the room. I glance over myshoulder several times to peer at the door but it never opens. I am a littledisappointed but it doesn’t make me sad.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]No longer dwelling on the door I head into my walk-incloset. The light inside works and the closet seems quite spacious. Along theback wall I have several pairs of underwear hanging from small lingerie hangers,and it is these that attract my attention. Nearly all of them are lacy and colorfulwith blue trim, and I know a couple of them didn’t belong to me. I recognized acouple pairs as belonging to a friend from several years back, though I neverfigure out how I got the underwear.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Calibri][SIZE=3] I hold up several,trying to decide which one I want to wear. I like the stretchy lace and how itcurves around my butt, and I wonder if my friend will like it also. I am stillhoping she will come upstairs and into my room.[/SIZE][/FONT]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]After what feels like several hours I head downstairs and I findmy mom leading my friend to the front door. Her belongings are packed up in abrown suitcase and she is wearing different clothes than before. A brightyellow top sits rests on her shoulders, allowing a decent view of the top ofher chest. Below she is wearing a blue denim shirt, short and above the knees,which complements the yellow of her top.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]What is really striking about her is her hair. She hadpreviously been a brunette but in the time we spent in separate rooms she diedher hair blonde and put blue streaks in it. This has the effect of transformingher into a new person, someone I can only recognize in the cheeks and eyes. Ifind I really like this hair color on her.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“You’re…leaving?” I ask with undisguised sadness.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“I think I have to.” She tells me this at the same time shelooks up to meet my eyes, and it is clear she has been crying. Her eyes are notred and puffy but tears are gently rolling down her cheeks, and I admire herflawless skin. As we look into each other’s eyes I can see the pain in them,and I realize she loves me as strongly as I love her.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]My mom continues to lead her outside and around the side ofthe house. I tag along close behind, wanting to hold my friend’s hand butafraid it might make things too hard on her if I do. The sidewalk we are onleads us to the back of the house, through a hallway and on into a garage witha sleek black car in it. Again my friend and I share a look and she says shedoesn’t want to leave but it would be better if she did because not only wouldshe be safe but so would I. At this moment I don’t care for my safety, I just don’twant her to leave.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]As I walk around the car I suddenly find myself in thestreet, staring at the vehicle parked along the curb. I recognize the car as aRussian Zil, though it is considerably shorter than the typical Russianlimousine. As I stare at it the car moves out into the street as if it canglide sideways. This is confusing but I realize it must be my mom’s fault andnot me changing perspective.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]“Why did you park the car out in the middle of the street?”I look at her with wonder and ponder how she thought any other car would beable to get around her vehicle. I know old people have a harder time parkingclose to the curb but this is ridiculous.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]She is about to get into the car to move it and drive myfriend away when the car begins to fade, as though it was a phantom. Theghostly image of the car becomes lighter and lighter and in less than tenseconds has disappeared completely. I am upset and freaking out, but it’s notthe disappearance of the car which bothers me. My friend has gone with the carand I am mad and hurt that I didn’t get to say goodbye. I feel wronged that shehad to leave at all, and I want her back.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[SIZE=3][FONT=Calibri]I wake up still feeling this way, and the image of her sadface remains ingrained in my mind.[/FONT][/SIZE]
[FONT=Times New Roman][SIZE=3][/SIZE][/FONT]