Instead of going to class, I have fucked up dreams.

January 10, 2013 from 9:10 – 10:00 AM

I’m at some kind of performance with my girlfriend (Heather), another friend (LM), and John Barrowman. Heather and I already have a house together, but for some reason, she was going to leave for somewhere forever and I wanted to surprise her by tagging along to wherever she was going. Instead, I was locked in a room with John Barrowman, where we spooned, and I rubbed his penis through his pants and sucked his thumb. I wondered if this was the sort of celebrity fucking I’d be forgiven for. Apparently he is straight in my dream.

I have incredible guilt and all I want to do is tell her that I didn’t want her to leave. As she’s leaving the concert hall, I transform into a butterfly-shaped bracelet and attach myself onto her wrist. LM dresses up in a giant pea costume in my place, where I was part of a duet with John Barrowman to sing Christmas carols accompanied by a full orchestra. I think that she is doing an amazing job, but it doesn’t occur to me why I’m witnessing this and not with Heather, on her wrist.

At the end of the concert, it is revealed that it was actually LM and not me in the costume. John Barrowman goes into a fury and attacks me because I’ve magically appeared. The police hold him down and he yells that I’ve betrayed him and that we were going to be together. I give LM a hug because she’s crying from the commotion and I thank her for helping me out and taking me place. Then I faint.

I wake up in a foreign place, there are 4 cats: a white one, a ginger one, a tabby, and a black one. Heather’s mom is also there. I wake up in a daze and automatically start playing with the cats; I fight with them over pillows, and they have feathers that they’re chasing. Suddenly, I remember everything that’s happened and I dash upstairs to find my things. The only thing on my mind is that I have to go after Heather and apologize for the things I’d done with John Barrowman. I find some of her belongings in a room: a sweater, a necklace, a letter, among some other things. I take the letter and on the outside it says, “Regine, open this in the event that we ever get separated again.” In it, she talks about how sad she is that we’re weren’t together and that she’d always loved me. She also tells me to talk to her mom because she’d know where to find her.

Heather’s mom walks in while I’m still reading the letter, pacing back and forth. When I see her, she tells me that there’s a lot to fill me in on, but first I’d have to find something suitable to wear. That’s when I realize I’d taken off all of my clothes. But she isn’t fazed, apparently this was something I’d done regularly. I ask her how long I’d been out for and she says that it was in July that I’d fainted and it was now April. It clicks that she’s been the one who’s been taking care of me the entire time. I ask her what I did every day because I didn’t remember anything from the moment I fainted up until then. She said that I mostly sat and stared into nothing as I turned my head and rocked back and forth. That shocks me, but the only thing on my mind is that I’d been apart from Heather for 9 months and I dread knowing the answer to how many people she’d been with since I left. I never fully realize that everyone I knew would be fully aware of my condition when I went back out to the world.

Suddenly, I’m standing in front of Heather, fully dressed. We are at some kind of café on top of a mountain. It feels like somewhere in Northern Europe. I don’t remember what she was wearing, but I remember thinking she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. We give each other the tightest hug ever, but we don’t say a word. Then she points towards the doorway and I see her brother, Ben, coming in to greet me. He’s wearing a denim jacket and has his hair spiked up with gel. He says something along the lines of, “Hey fainty,” and goes on ahead to grab a table. We give each other another hug before we go in. She takes me by the hand and leads me to the table where Ben is sitting. She sits down on my lap, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head on her shoulder, and I think, “I don’t really need to know what’s happened since the incident… I can tell she’s waited for me, and even if she didn’t, she’s here now and that’s all I care about.”

We have an amazing view of the mountain side, and I can hear the other customers in the café awing at us. One man drops his pencil and then asks if he can sketch us.

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