The Dreamer

And then there are the dreams that feel as authentic as reality itself, that seem to exist just as your own life does. Where the emotions you experience there carry over to when you're awake. They are so real, so genuine, that you begin to question your own sanity. And you know that when the day comes that you finally stop dreaming them, you will never stop remembering.

These dreams are almost like reentering a part in a book that was dog-eared, continuing right where I left off the last time I awoke.

Now, I like to think that I'm of reasonable intelligence, but ordinary differential equations and myself...we don't really hang in the same comprehension circles. So, try as I might to follow my teacher's logic in how he got 3f"(x) + 5xf(x) to equal eleven, I never quite understood. His answer in no way, shape, or form resembled mine, and this misalignment -this complete confusion of how point A got to point B- is kind of where I'm at right now. "Dreaming?" I repeat dubiously.

I ONCE READ somewhere that the odds of getting hit by lightning are one in a million. One in a friggin’ million. So, if this situation were to be viewed optimistically, I’m a pretty unique individual. But here’s the thing—I just got hit by lighting on my birthday, so optimism can go kiss pessimism’s

Dev tucks my hair behind my ear. “Yeah— whoa.” I clear my throat and sit up straighter. Somehow I managed to lean in rather close as he was talking. “The weird thing was,” he continues, “where we found you, under this tree, is where I’d go anytime I wanted to be alone. I would come here to think and get out of the city. And that’s where you landed. Sometimes, I think…” “What do you think?” I nudge him to finish. He delicately plays with the top of my hand. “Sometimes I think that you were sent to me, that someone knew I would find you.

I sit on it's edge, looking down at the man who feels like he just materialized out of nowhere. My head still swims with euphoria from the moment...a moment I was just in with one man whilst sleeping next to another. Suddenly feeling dirty, I pull the sheets wrapped in front of my body closer.

Yeah, oh. Trust me, if I wanted to go there, we would have already been there.” I’ve never rolled my eyes so fast in my life. “Please, you are not my type.” He moves closer. “But don’t you remember? I’m the man of your

Dev catches me in my moment of triumph, and for an instant, a weird, wicked gleam passes over his features. Great, now he’ll think I was jealous. I take in the broken ceiling and the huge chunk of it that sits on the floor. Yeah, okay, maybe I was.