Two bodies were floating peacefully in the ocean, the blazing sun rising gradually in the background. There was no sign of passersby, and the waves were weak but graceful. The faces were barely visible and the bodies were like shadows, shapes. The two figures, one clearly male, and the other female, were floating on their backs, each movement leaving a dent. The girl waved her arms indicating wings, and the shape left a mark like footsteps in the snow.
They did not talk to one another, the sound of the waves was inaudible – it was silent. The sun—flash. The setting had changed. The same two people found themselves in an ice cream parlor, licking off the same cone of vanilla, letting the melting drops slither down their hands. Neither of them indicated any knowledge of the stickiness or the coldness of it. Cars whizzed by the curb of the sidewalk they—flash.
It was a performance of some sort – a play, a ballet or a musical. He and she were backstage in wild costumes. The boy dressed like a 19th century army General, however the suit was purple with green metal buttons. The girl was in a clumsily made aluminum space suit; much too bright, and wrinkled from overuse.
They stared at each other intently, as though telepathically communicating. No one spoke, and the hurried people around them walked through their bodies, but they were not ghosts. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was gone before he could form a single syllable.
Narrator: Edward Fisher
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
Good, I can hear. I rubbed my ears one more time just in case it was my mind that I heard. Although, my mind asking if I could hear it was a perfectly valid question coming out of its mouth. The worst (or at times, the best) thing about your mind was that you could never lie to it. I may answer its question with a ‘yes’ but it would know I meant ‘no’. Or I meant both.
It was one in the morning, and I’d fallen asleep after a quick jump in the shower from Joshua’s party. One that I wish I had never attended, and I’m sure, one that Joshua wishes he’d never held. I walked into my house thinking deeply about how I could tell Juliet that I wasn’t in any position to hit it off with her, or anyone else for that matter. As I lay in my screeching bed with Laura Ashley bed sheets (much to my dismay, but they were in perfect condition and it was a gift given just in time; I had been desperately searching for covers since my old one had turned pink in the wash), I thought of altogether, just what to say.
I am a rational person. I don’t believe in Feng Shui, I don’t care about my horoscope and what it means for me this year, and I am not superstitious. So, no, I do not believe that dreams are a sign or a foreshadowing of the future.
But those clips of Juliet and I were not dreams per se, they were my mind talking in the form of dreams. I knew this because I couldn’t quite see her face, but I could feel her eyes on me. I couldn’t hear anything, and that is how my mind teaches me things – with silence. And it was in color – I never dream in color.
So as Juliet goes about her own business tonight, she is unaware of my thinking of her and her mind may very well be occupied by someone or something other than me. But for all she knows, I might as well turn up on Monday and just return that kiss. Or not.