It’s rare when I have a fun dream
that I remember well. It happened once, two years ago, but I never expected it to happen again. This one was more stressful than fun, but you can imagine my surprise when, one bright
morning last month, I woke up with full recollection of not only the dream I'd had, but also the dream my dream-world self had had within that dream. Make sense?
It must be noted that, in real
life, it would be over my
dead body were Ashleigh and Douglas to ever cancel their engagement and call off their wedding.
Now, onto the dream.
-------------
The walls, carpet and couch were pure white, whiter still where shafts of morning light slanted through the windows. The only movements were the curtains lifting in the breeze. They too were white.
I’d never known a home so pure, and yet this
place wasn’t unfamiliar to me. The house belonged to Douglas and Ashleigh, both
of whom had returned from their honeymoon days ago.
The room grew more surreal the
farther I stepped in. It was only a lounge, yet it felt like Douglas and Ashleigh had
purchased something between heaven and a padded cell. So quiet and still, it
was only when I turned the corner that heaven turned to hell.
I recognised Douglas at once, sitting at the dinner table, but the woman beside him wasn't Ashleigh at all. This woman's shoulders were broader; she was taller and fairer; and the hair that fell down her back in waves and curls was blonde, not brown. But I couldn't see her face. She was a blank in my memory, an extra in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Watching them sit there playing chess (as all couples do), I knew at once that Douglas had dumped Ashleigh for this woman I’d yet to meet. But I wouldn’t meet her - not today, at least: my throat was too tight for conversation, my heart too wrenched for any words half decent. It was all I could do to turn and leave the way I’d come in, but I was grateful for the couch when my legs gave way.
I recognised Douglas at once, sitting at the dinner table, but the woman beside him wasn't Ashleigh at all. This woman's shoulders were broader; she was taller and fairer; and the hair that fell down her back in waves and curls was blonde, not brown. But I couldn't see her face. She was a blank in my memory, an extra in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Watching them sit there playing chess (as all couples do), I knew at once that Douglas had dumped Ashleigh for this woman I’d yet to meet. But I wouldn’t meet her - not today, at least: my throat was too tight for conversation, my heart too wrenched for any words half decent. It was all I could do to turn and leave the way I’d come in, but I was grateful for the couch when my legs gave way.
How could I have let this happen? How could a house so white be home
to so dark a soul? Why did I feel responsible?
I had to text Ashleigh.
I had to text Ashleigh.
My hands
must have found my phone, for the next thing I knew, my thumbs were keying in
the one word that was beating at my mind like a drum. “Nooooooooo!” Even
now I can see the o’s suffocating that text box.
Her reply - “I’m frustrated” - said it all. Even through text I could hear the thump of her aching heart, see the tears gushing down her scarlet cheeks.
Her reply - “I’m frustrated” - said it all. Even through text I could hear the thump of her aching heart, see the tears gushing down her scarlet cheeks.
And then I opened my eyes. It
was a dream! A dream, I say! That’s all it was… but wait… where am I? The walls
are blue, the carpet brown. Ashleigh and Douglas are here. They’re scrambling to groom
themselves for the wedding.
The wedding! I slept in!
The wedding! I slept in!
I jump out of bed, though they’re
gone even before I have time to find my suit. (My suit, of course, is the one
thing standing between me and this wedding.) Perhaps if I put it on fast enough, I won’t
be late to the reception. But the pants, I realise, are too big - ten sizes too big. I’d been told months in advance, yet still I’d forgotten to measure myself. My heart sinks faster than
my pants can fall down. I’ll never make it. I’m a failure.
But I’m outside, racing across
town to the suit hire. I'd run faster if I didn't have to hold up these stupid pants. Oh, but the afternoon is young, and my destination
is a ten-minute walk from wherever it was I’d woken up. Perhaps... perhaps I’ll make it, after all; I'll endure a few scowls and glares, but I can apologise to the bride and groom
later.
It's no use. Time is unbeatable. I’ve
only acquired my new suit when my subconscious rings the bell for reception. I know it’s futile, but I run again, faster now. There’s a crossing;
people are walking; the red man is flashing. Wait for me, flashing man! Don’t
stop on my account! And he doesn’t. Today he’s a good man, but today there’s a
cop car stationed twenty yards down the street. I stop at the curb. If my heart can sink
any lower now, it does. The flashing man taunts me still, yet I cannot cross. The
cop will stop me; I know he will. And the feast is over. Dream Logic told me so.
