I almost feel as if every night, I dream something about that boy... that boy who isn't Joe... who gave up everything for a hope of me only for me to smash it down. Yes, that boy... Chris Poegl.
In h te bed, my thoguhts turn to him often. Is he resting safe tonight? I hope a wonderful girl has come his way. Does he look the same?
Questions like those usually partake of the last part of conciousness as I slide into a deep sleep.
But once in a while, I do dream of him.
Last night I had a dream that he and I had classes right beside each other. It was Midlothian Middle's school layout and North Davidson's teachers and courses. He had Spanish with Mr.Kerr while I had fitness and aerobics with O'Hara. Mr. Kerr would let them play baskettball with us. I would stare at him. Just stare. Feeling like a dark spot on a newly cleaned white silk. One day, I finally went up to him and asked "Are you still mad at me?" to which he replied "Yes.. a little." So I asked "Can we please at least be friends?" At that, he opened his arms wide, gave me a hug, and said "Sure." I can't tell you how happy I was in that dream. Then my mother came in to pick me up early as the bell rang and gave me an angry look as she saw us part from the hug. He went back to class, and I went home.
He looked jsut as he did in eighth grade...and the hug.. it felt so real... as if he were really there hugging me as I was sleeping.
When I awoke, the song Whiskey Lullaby popped into my head, and I've been crying since.
I deserve this, I know. I just wish that by some miracle, we could be friends. It won't happen, though. It never has... cry
 haloisbymyhorns · Tue Dec 26, 2006 @ 03:02pm · 0 Comments |
