Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Let's Pretend we Don't Exist


I wrote this April 18, 2008:

I dreamt about Oatmeal last night or this morning rather. Once there was a time when she roamed my mind and in such, was always near by. At least once a day she'd tap on my consciousness' door. It was as if my consciousness brought her to me, this morning though, it was consciousness' kiss that disrupted sleep's gift.

In the dream, I was at a party in a house filled by an ocean of people. I was in a room with someone who at first seemed to me to be Quatro, but as our actions progressed she transformed unrecognizably and I'm not sure who she ended up being, maybe herself again. She was professing attraction without opening her mouth. She was pleading for something more, with her eyes. Something inside me, was screaming "no," but was quickly replaced with a sinking feeling brought on by the soft crushing weight of her body as her lips graced mine. I broke free of her grasp and fled the room.

Leaving the warm sun of solitude, I was plunged into the cold pool of the party, swallowed by the waves of people who were in attendance. None of them mattered and they soon disappeared when I found Oatmeal sitting at the table. It wasn't until I was sitting in her lap that I noticed how incredibly there, she was. Like the sun being turned on, if it was connected to a switch, I was aglow with happiness. I just wanted to be close to her and amuse her. Other people in the room where vying for my attention, but she was the only one there to me.

It was pleasant to have been visited by her and spent a few moments in a dream wrapped in her arms.



Yesterday morning Tuki and I got into an argument. It's affect was me arriving two minutes late to class. I smiled some secret wicked smile as I entered the room to find my name written on a board, along with other names, creating a list of 'late students.' If my mood wasn't already set, this certainly changed it. I was humored by the act.

The instructor, none other then Mr. Compositor himself, that failed to enlighten us, last term about a program's automatic compression, must have been grinning wildly inside when I entered the room. He went through a three or five minute lecture on something. Something....

He ended it with, "But it's not very useful, since the projects you all are working on, aren't in groups."

More people trickled in after his lecture. Humpty Dumpty arrived nearly thirty minutes late, and was the fourth person to comment on my absence from the first day, "You missed the first day!" After many people scrambled to get their homework assignment printed out, Mr. Compositor decided it was time to collect it. Alphabetically I'm not the first listed, but I was certainly going to be the first called. So it was... I went up presented the assignment and then turned and left, as he read the lines on the back of his eyelids, "Looking forward to seeing it." I made sure Jack Frost was watching at me, as I walked back to my seat, I provided her with some entertainment, that sent her laughing wildly and me out of the room.

Lunch was weird. I talked Dexter into joining, Doof, Humpty Dumpty, Vomit Bag, Stinky and I, for lunch. There was conversation, but I didn't retain any of it. Like the whole day, I was there, but I wasn't and being there was weird.

Then there was Geometry. I'm going to call the instructor Mini Skirt, that's what she was wearing. I took a little pick me up before the class, and couldn't stop myself from staring at the bottom of her short tight skirt. She had on an off the shoulder stripped shirt and a black ultra mini, mini skirt with black tights. If her ass was a little flatter the skirt may have been able to cover it.

My mind wasn't on her, though my eyes had trouble leaving, and I floated through the class in my own thoughts of other people in other situations, having other lives, probably not thinking of me.

Today, I wonder about Oatmeal.

It's now June 16, 2009.  This was the second entry in my livejournal.  I don't keep a livejournal any more, for a lot of reasons.  One of them is this post.  When I wrote the line about Oatmeal, regarding how "incredibly there" she was, my frame of mind was to be spooky.  I knew it was all just a dream...   

I thought it was all just a dream...  
 

 
  Reactions:

comments

0 Responses to "Let's Pretend we Don't Exist"
 

Copyright 2009 All Rights Reserved Revolution Two Lifestyle theme by Brian Gardner | Blogger template converted & enhanced by eBlog Templates