dreams
i had a dream about one of my exes last night. "which one now?" you might ask. well, steve, that's who. here are some details.
i wanted to donate blood for the effort in japan. i don't remember if i actually set out to find a donation center or if i happened upon one and thought, "i really should do this." i walked in and it was pretty busy, but not as packed as the time i went on 9/11. i signed in and noticed that my friend, toast, was also signed in. he had put his real name down (which is doubly-weird, because he yelled at me once for using it) but then used his nickname in another area of the sign-in sheet. he didn't use his last name at all.
anyway, i signed in and shortly located him sitting at a table with some other people. i joined them. i guess the next step in donated was to stab your finger with this special device and put some blood on a form and turn it in. toast had already done this, but i was having a hell of a time drawing blood. the lancet was too dull. then i realized i was trying to stab my finger with the wrong part of it. but i tried it again, and it just wouldn't work. then i was thinking, maybe i shouldn't donate because i hadn't drank any water today (which is what i was thinking before i went to bed last night) and that it's not a good idea to donate if you haven't drank any liquids.
i think at some point, toast gets up to go donate (or go somewhere else), but there were other people i knew there from college. that, or toast moved to another table and happened to know my ex, who comes into the scene in a few). anyway, i guess my ex was the manager/owner/big-wig at the donation place, because he comes in and everyone is impressed he's there, making a big deal of it. i saw him and i turned on my heel and left. in my dream, i didn't want to see him, didn't want him to see me, didn't want to have anything to do with him. i go out the back door. in the yard next to the center is my mom, barbequeing. i said, "mom, you were supposed to meet me to donate blood! what are you doing?" she said, "oh, i know, but i got caught up in making my lunch, so i'm running late. i'll be there in a little while." (two things: 1) i had spoken to my mom last night before bed, 2) the persona of this woman was nothing like my mom.)
so, i'm wandering around outside and steve comes out looking for me. i didn't want to see him. i didn't want to see how he's aged in the 15 years since i last saw him. i didn't want to find out that he was fat/bald/wrinkly... anything like that. the steve in my imagination is still 25 and i wanted to keep it that way. but it was too late. from a distance, i could see him. his hair was either super-short or he had a hat on of some kind. i could see he still had the top of his left ear pierced (it was the right ear in the dream, which i realized after i woke up). he looked pretty much the same, except older. we spoke, i think, but i don't remember what was said.
then i woke up.
i hate/love having dreams about steve because it puts me back in my college frame of mind. my 23-year-old-lust-idiotic-giggly-stupid-crush frame of mind. i miss the emotional charge of it all but not the exhausting annoyance. and, of course, i wonder what he looks like. part of me thinks he's pushing 300 pounds and shaves his head. part of me thinks he lost any excess weight he had in 1997 and has grown his hair long, like in college. either way, i really don't want to know. like i found out by dating him, the dream is better than the reality.
i wanted to donate blood for the effort in japan. i don't remember if i actually set out to find a donation center or if i happened upon one and thought, "i really should do this." i walked in and it was pretty busy, but not as packed as the time i went on 9/11. i signed in and noticed that my friend, toast, was also signed in. he had put his real name down (which is doubly-weird, because he yelled at me once for using it) but then used his nickname in another area of the sign-in sheet. he didn't use his last name at all.
anyway, i signed in and shortly located him sitting at a table with some other people. i joined them. i guess the next step in donated was to stab your finger with this special device and put some blood on a form and turn it in. toast had already done this, but i was having a hell of a time drawing blood. the lancet was too dull. then i realized i was trying to stab my finger with the wrong part of it. but i tried it again, and it just wouldn't work. then i was thinking, maybe i shouldn't donate because i hadn't drank any water today (which is what i was thinking before i went to bed last night) and that it's not a good idea to donate if you haven't drank any liquids.
i think at some point, toast gets up to go donate (or go somewhere else), but there were other people i knew there from college. that, or toast moved to another table and happened to know my ex, who comes into the scene in a few). anyway, i guess my ex was the manager/owner/big-wig at the donation place, because he comes in and everyone is impressed he's there, making a big deal of it. i saw him and i turned on my heel and left. in my dream, i didn't want to see him, didn't want him to see me, didn't want to have anything to do with him. i go out the back door. in the yard next to the center is my mom, barbequeing. i said, "mom, you were supposed to meet me to donate blood! what are you doing?" she said, "oh, i know, but i got caught up in making my lunch, so i'm running late. i'll be there in a little while." (two things: 1) i had spoken to my mom last night before bed, 2) the persona of this woman was nothing like my mom.)
so, i'm wandering around outside and steve comes out looking for me. i didn't want to see him. i didn't want to see how he's aged in the 15 years since i last saw him. i didn't want to find out that he was fat/bald/wrinkly... anything like that. the steve in my imagination is still 25 and i wanted to keep it that way. but it was too late. from a distance, i could see him. his hair was either super-short or he had a hat on of some kind. i could see he still had the top of his left ear pierced (it was the right ear in the dream, which i realized after i woke up). he looked pretty much the same, except older. we spoke, i think, but i don't remember what was said.
then i woke up.
i hate/love having dreams about steve because it puts me back in my college frame of mind. my 23-year-old-lust-idiotic-giggly-stupid-crush frame of mind. i miss the emotional charge of it all but not the exhausting annoyance. and, of course, i wonder what he looks like. part of me thinks he's pushing 300 pounds and shaves his head. part of me thinks he lost any excess weight he had in 1997 and has grown his hair long, like in college. either way, i really don't want to know. like i found out by dating him, the dream is better than the reality.
posted by mikraas at 12:20 PM
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