11 October 2011
"He's gay, right?"
Such was what my friend asked me about another one of my friends today.
Why she couldn't ask "Is he gay?" instead is beyond my comprehension.
Assumptions.
An evil thing, it is.
As an oft-victim of nasty assumptions, I plead you.
Don't pass judgment so easily.
Anyway.
I promised I would elaborate on the things I had stated in the previous post.
Basically.
I had a three-part dream.
Or dreams, I guess.
Involving Kelly Clarkson, a Literature examination and a pregnancy.
This is how it goes.
Kelly Clarkson appeared in my dreams.
And the scenario took place in my parent's room.
A version of it, at least.
It was vaguely reminiscent of her Mr Know It All video somehow.
Nothing too exciting.
Other than she turned out to be as I expected.
A nice person.
It then transitioned into a scene at the Blue Room (in school).
Where I took my ELL promo paper.
It was the most tiring and stressful part, really.
I was fucking thinking of points to write for a Literature essay.
Had I expended more energy, I think I could have remembered what my entire essay was going to be about.
How depressing is that?
To have examinations haunt you in your dreams.
To actually be intellectually thinking when you're in dreamland.
Like some sort of unresolved issue that taints a dream and turns it into an academic nightmare.
The only good part of it all was that I didn't get to writing the essay.
Just the outline.
My dumb ass was saved by the next dream.
So with all that done you'd think that things would take a turn for the better, right?
Well, from how I look at it.
It actually does get better.
Okay.
You might think that this is weird.
And I guess, in many respects, it is quite weird.
But I find it really beautiful.
So.
Here goes.
I was pregnant.
But I wasn't concerned with any of the how's or why's.
I was too preoccupied with how amazing and precious the experience was.
As in.
Not to go all maternal and gender-switcheroony-crap on you.
But it was an authentically emotional experience.
Like.
I felt such an attachment to what I thought was in me.
The feeling was indescribable.
And you know.
The saddest part of it all was that as the (what seemed like) months went by.
My tummy actually became smaller and smaller.
Like the possibility of me giving birth and holding my baby at the end of it all quickly diminishing before my very eyes.
It was sad, really.
Heartbreaking.
But okay.
Let's look at this dream symbolically.
You know how they say that dreams are of the things you think about, right?
Usually of things that you're subconsciously thinking of.
It all makes sense then.
I've always wanted to have a little sibling.
Or a little child or baby to take care of.
To shelter and care for and love and protect.
So this dream was a manifestation of that desire.
As weird as it may be.
It actually makes sense.
Overall.
One of my favourite dreams.
I had only one period for school today.
PE.
I was happy and all.
Coming to school, not thinking about anything in particular.
Not expecting much except to enjoy PE.
But you know.
Coming to school for just PE was simply too good to be true.
Guess what we did for PE?
We had soccer.
Not just that.
It was in-fucking-doors.
But wait.
I will admit.
I enjoyed myself.
Partly because I didn't suck as much as I usually do.
But mostly because you played too.
Who'd fucking expect that?
It was amazing.
I watched you play and then I got to play against you.
Though.
I was scared to get near you.
Didn't want to accidentally kick you in the face or something to the extent.
You know.
I didn't want to allow myself to do anything that would make myself repellent to you.
But yes.
One of the best PE sessions ever.
You're cute as fuck.
But very much like a boy, you are.
But that's okay with me.
Ah.
Today I am a very happy boy.
Though what's up with having your phone with you like all the time?
Who cares.
I played soccer with you.
I'm not complaining.
10:55 PM
