Moody Meow

Liberal, lunatic lassie, with mood swings and foot-in-mouth syndrome

Remembering the Dream

Posted on | February 16, 2005 | 6 Comments

I slept fitfully, but he found time to visit in a dream about a bookstore.

We dated when I was eighteen. Darryl Cooper. 6’4″, red-headed romantic with a deep rumbly laugh and a smile that swallowed his face. I haven’t thought about him in ages, but he popped into my dreams this morning.

David and I walked through a Borders. I don’t know why I knew it was that particular store, because it didn’t physically resemble any Borders I had been in. But in the cafe (which was a waiting area for the restaraunt attached to it) Darryl sat, dressed in a black button down shirt, and black trousers, with longer hair than I remembered him having. Both of his ears were pierced and he wore thick rimmed black glasses. He looked dashing. Men sat in front of him on computers and I realized he was in a meeting. He waved, smiling that smile that I remember and asked me to wait a moment.

I moved to a counter where Wolfgang Puck was serving up little nests of pan-seared noodles covered in a creamy parmasean sauce and topped with broccoli (I know all this because I watched him make the dish for me). David excused himself, he was going to the art section and Darryl joined me, taking a plate and a glass of wine. “It’s so good to see you,” he said to me. I smiled up at him and realized I was really happy to see him too.

Then the alarm went off.

Category: Memory

Comments

6 Responses to “Remembering the Dream”

  1. E the M
    February 18th, 2005 @ 7:47 am

    Considering the depth of my nightmares, I prefer the waking world to the sleeping one. Still, there are stolen moments with people long gone from my life that I would like to savour for just a moment longer, even if its just in my dreams.

  2. David July
    February 17th, 2005 @ 7:17 pm

    Sometimes I think dreams are supposed to come to their natural conclusion without finishing the story. Even without the assistance of an alarm, the “good” dreams just stop and I wake up.

    After all, if all our dreams were these little bits of reality with a beginning and end, how could we ever cope with being awake?

  3. E the M
    February 16th, 2005 @ 2:39 pm

    Wolfgang has a nice accent and all but I don’t dig the rotund chefs.
    He can flambé my crème brule but he cannot shag me….

    The other white meat was a lot of fun, I admit. But the three of us could have been boinking in the art section right next to Mapplethorpe!

  4. David M
    February 16th, 2005 @ 1:52 pm

    Yeah, the alarm probably woke you up right before you had a threesome with you ex-boyfriend (otherwise known as the other white meat.) and Wolfgang Puck on the coffee counter. :)

  5. E the M
    February 16th, 2005 @ 1:20 pm

    I know !! I hate it when I get interrupeted in a dream. I think alarms are imagination-killers. It’s funny because I can still remember the smell of the cafe, even now.

  6. The Blue Aries
    February 16th, 2005 @ 12:57 pm

    HAHAHAHA, isnt that how it always works? just when the dream gets good you wake up…

    the alarm is obviously a bastard…

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