I Had A Weird Dream

I had a weird dream the other night, and it stuck with me. Usually, the only kinds of dreams that I remember the next day are nightmares, so I’m a little concerned. 

The dream took place in either a small home or an apartment, I’m not entirely sure. But in the small home, I was with a few people that I met back in college, ones that I didn’t really speak to after I left a two and a half years ago. Two of them were friends I made (a boy and a girl), but there was another girl that I only really knew as an ex of the boy.

Backstory: the male friend in my dream the other night was the same one that I thought I was in love with, for a short period of time. The girl I was friends with also briefly dated that guy, but they figured that they would be better as friends.

And I think it’s kind of relevant to what I’m about to tell you, and why I was so concerned with what was going on.

So in the dream, me, my girl friend from college (we’ll call her Julia), and the other girl that we kind of knew (we’ll call her Noelle), were just kind of hanging around a kitchen counter, laughing and talking. I can’t remember whether or not there were any other people around; and I also wasn’t sure if the dream was lucid or not, but I was confused inside the dream as well as I was after I woke.

We were talking about whatever, and then my other friend (we’ll call him Evan) came up from behind me, and rested his head on my shoulder, as well all spoke. I normally don’t really care for PDA, so I was already confused, but something else felt weird about him being so close to me.

I was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the kind of uncomfortable that you get when you receive unwanted attention. My theory is that the proximity just really threw me off.

And then he started saying weird things, and had his hand on my hip, and was clearly not going anywhere. The degree of how uncomfortable I was, in this state of being, intensified. I had no idea what was even happening, and I felt so taken aback by what was going on. I have no idea what to make of it, even now.

Julia, without addressing Evan’s presence, smirked towards me, and said, “Oh, Amanda, I got something for you.” She picked something up and out of her bag, and slapped something on the counter. She pushed it towards me, smirk widening.

And I literally had no idea whether I should have laughed, slapped her, or asked what kind of joke this all was.

It was a book, with a cover that had a picture of two stick figures holding hands. Over their heads, it read: Amanda and Evan Forever.

What. The. Fuck.

I was already confused by the whole setting and situation I was in, and then Julia, who was supposed to be my friend, added this weird ass book to the mix. To say the least, I couldn’t have felt more out of place.

And then Evan whispers, “be my girlfriend?”

I’m sorry? Excuse me.

I—I wanted to scream.

I literally said, right then and there, to Evan: I need to talk to you…in private.

And I had this weird sensation, one that I usually get during my nightmares. I heard my thoughts. You know how in real life, you can actually hear your thoughts, as if it’s your own—or someone else’s—voice inside your head? If that happens in good dreams, I don’t know, because I rarely ever remember them. But in my nightmares, the only kind of dreams that I ever actually remember, I always hear them. I hear them like I can normally hear my conscious thoughts when I’m awake.

These thoughts…were not ones that I would have expected to have. Instead of them being along the lines of what the hell is this guy thinking, they were more like:

  • Is this one big joke?
  • There is no way that this is real.
  • There is no way that this kid could ever like me!
  • Has he even looked at me?
  • That’s it, I’m gonna ask him what the hell he’s thinking.
  • I’m gonna ask him what he sees when he looks at me.
  • I can break this fucking kid!
  • How. How. How.

And right as we walked into the other room, and faced each other…I woke up.

And after I replayed this dream in my head, at least a dozen times, I had this thought: why have I never realized how much that really matters to me?

Like, I’ve grown to love myself, and accept my body for what it is right now. And then, even though I knew it was just a dream, why did my first thoughts, as someone asked me to be their girlfriend, consist of questioning whether it was a joke or not? And why was I so concerned about my size?

And then my confused and uncomfortable self had another question: if every other dream that I remember is a nightmare,

was this dream a nightmare, too?

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A twenty-two year old who lives through words and her Netflix account. She makes herself laugh more than others, and she claims that she is okay with that.

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