Crap. Why is it my subconscious keeps beating me up with proof of my failures?
Had a dream last night and into this morning. Passed hours in moments. It's nine a.m. on Sunday morning, and I'm awake, I'm shaken, and I'm angry at my own sub conscious. Not the best way to start a day, I'll work hard to smile today--sing some Snow White in the shower, and call Finley. Call Katie. Call anyone. I'm bored out of my mind with this withering contentment, with the lack of action that cowardice has driven me to.
Not important, that. I'll figure it out. What's more important is... my dream. It was really weird. In a castle (one mixed with scientific-technology that was extremely advanced, some with the adobe style mixed with Bahama's blue sky and water, some rather looking like rooms from my middle school, and the outside kingdom a dead-rip off of Agra-bah, from Aladdin), a strange Queen (the king we never see, but I suspect he's turned into an elephant, as there's an elephant everywhere with a crown on his head, and he carries himself well) rules.
And, for whatever reason, Kate and I live there. Not together. Not as a couple. We still know and have memories of our "real" lives, but for whatever reason, we are together.
Right at the beginning, I am choir class, but everyone is painting, (and the room is like the one they dance in at Take the Lead) and I'm in a back aclove singing. Mr. Engstrom finds me and is angry, how dare I not share in the activity? So we trump up the stairs (from my middle school) to what must be Gym (the upstairs hallway from Fort, downstairs gym from middle school) and find everyone--running. Somehow, the parallels aren't exact, so we're running in a square corridor with no walls on the outside it, where there's a giant hallway. Mr. Engstrom makes sure everyone knows that if we were breathing properly, that we could run longer. Instead, we go downstairs (middle school gym) and start to play a strange form of dodgeball that involves spinning disks made of foam which we dodge with martial arts moves.
While we play (magically, we are all very gifted) Leslie is always--despite the fact she's on my team and it doesn't count to hit me--after me. Always sneering when she knocks me to the ground, always mumbling insults that sting me. Everytime she's forced to help me up (so it looks like an accident to Mr. Engstrom and some other teacher, a brown-haired version of Mr. Backstrom, my elementary school music teacher), I say, "I love you, Leslie," after which she and her friends mock me. Towards the end of the game, she pulls out a stone disk (like the foam ones, only stone) and flings it at me. Her aim is excellent, and I make no move to dodge it, dumbstruck by the power of her hate.
It cuts my stomach, I fall to the ground, the tiniest bit of blood seeping through my pretty shirt. "Your hair's so outta style it looks like greased worms in an oven, you fucker!" I shout, "You even own a mirror?" Leslie walks over, kicks my face, and leaves. "I hate her," I say quietly to myself. "I really might."
Oh, no. I don't hate anyone. Dream Payton finds this horrible, and, hugging herself, I start to cry. And who should come over... but Kate. Kate's much prettier than she normally is. There are bits of silver on her clothing, a pearl barrette in her hair. She's dressed as a courtier (except for the jeans). I can almost feel the tears on my face, warm and real, my dream vision becomes a little flurried, and she says, "Payton... what happened?"
"She hates me," I said. "I love her and she hates me. My heart hurts." I say it like I'm surprised, like I wasn't expecting to tell her that, and she looks at me for a minute and sighs and says, "Payton, it's all right. I'm sure she's just jealous of you. I know I am. Knowing who to love..." and with this enigmatic (and very unlike Kate) statement, she hugs me. I don't really know why (and attribute it to dream reality), but she doesn't let go, like she really wants to help me. Really wants to listen.
"What happened?" Whispers Kate.
"Leslie is plotting to kill the Queen," I whisper back, with a glance at Backstrom and Engstrom. "Let's meet up later."
We do, and I can jump high and run fast and have beautiful angel wings suddenly and we meet up--and then Leslie blames us for her plot and the guards give chase, and we meet the queen to explain her malice, but she says it's too late--the Order's already been given for our heads--and we flee into the city. The guards pursue us, but I arrange an escape... the escape is interrupted by more guards. I throw Kate onto the balloon, and she screams--she's about to lose her friend, because through this, we've become friends, and she trusts me, she tells me things that she needs help with and I advise--and I say, "I love you."
The guards take me to the gallows. Celebration in the streets as the Queen's attempted murderer is about to be killed.
Confetti litters the ground as my body falls from the rack.
I wake up. Shaken, I walk over and take out Don't Drink the Water's cast announcement, look at Kate a moment. Sigh. It's not real, Payton. See? She's fine.
"I love you," I say. My bed is a shambles--had I been struggling?--but I cuddle back into it anyway, holding tight onto a pillow.
It's Sunday. I'll go back to sleep.
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