Chris

WARNING: This post contains sexual references.


I dreamed about Chris last night.

I've been dreaming about him since I was about 12 or 13. Not often, maybe once or twice a year. But every now and then he comes along in my dreams, and turns my world upside down. I don't know if he's a real person or just a figment of my (overactive) imagination. He looks like a real person. Ages like a real person. Changes his fashion sense and hairstyle like a real person. And most of the dreams that I have with him in are fairly mundane. Oh, some are about saving the world, or surviving the end of it, as most of my dreams these days are. But a lot of the time we're just doing random, silly things - making breakfast, doing grocery shopping, sitting on swings in the park. Laughing. Holding hands. Talking.

Last night was a strange dream, and would have been strange even if it had featured some guy other than Chris. In the dream it was snowing, and we were staying in a hotel in an old-fashioned town that I didn't know. My Mom and Dad (who have never been together, aside from briefly before and up to the time I was conceived) wanted to stay in the hotel and not venture out into the snow, so Chris and I went to check out some of the local shops. We looked at antiques and old-fashioned clothes and second-hand books, and somehow while we were in the bookstore, someone accused Chris of stealing. And I knew he hadn't, knew he wouldn't do anything that stupid or frankly wrong, but for some reason we got scared and ran. And when we took a rest, we found ourselves in a sort of spinney area, a patch of grass surrounded with tall trees so it's mostly dark and covered in there, just like what we call "The Alley" down the road from my house.

I could feel him shaking, could see the whiteness of his face, and I asked him why he was so scared. And I don't know exactly what he told me, because what I got from him were mostly impressions and pictures rather than a verbal reply. Something to do with a stupid thing that he'd done when he was a kid, and even though he hadn't been punished for it back then, he knew that if the cops were called they wouldn't believe him NOW because of it.

So I felt him shaking, and didn't know what to do to help, so I kissed him.

I'd never kissed him before.

The next thing I knew he was kissing me back, warm and soft on my mouth and neck and behind my ears, running his hands through my hair and biting on my earlobes and kissing me like it had been years since he'd had a girl in his arms, or perhaps like he thought he'd get taken away and it would be years to come before it happened again. And suddenly I was sitting there on the ground, facing him, fumbling at his zipper, frantically trying to undo his pants so I could touch him. I felt him, hot and hard in my hand, and then he was pushing me down on the ground and pulling my coat apart and my sweater up so he could suck and bite on my nipples through my bra, and I was pulling my jeans down and pulling him inside me, completely unaware of the snow on the ground or the fact that it was daylight (albeit more like twilight, at that time of year) and there were people shouting and hunting us down just a couple of blocks away.

I've never felt that urgency in my real life, never lost my senses over a guy. Even when there's been passion, it's always felt somewhat simulated to me. Not faked, exactly...more like I talk myself into it. And although Jamie and I did it in the middle of Parliament Hill Fields once, it was a fairly private place (for a public area, anyway), in the dead hours of the night, and there certainly wasn't any snow on the ground or people chasing after us.

The logical answer would be that my subconscious is yelling at me because I'm not getting any right now (heh) so it's bringing up a guy who I've previously enjoyed a more-or-less platonic - not to mention imagined - relationship with, and turning him into a possible partner. All I can say in my defence is that Chris feels real to me, and that I just haven't met him yet. I've been dreaming about the guy for ten years, for pete's sake. Surely if he were just a figment of my imagination, my dreams about him would come in greater frequency and eventually taper out.

Certainly I'm somewhat psychic. (Or somewhat psycho - you choose whichever sounds right to you.) I have plenty of truedreams. I just make the choice to ignore them most of the time. But this is one I don't feel like ignoring, since I sure would like to meet Chris one day. Any guy who can have me hot and wet in two seconds flat, even when it's cold outside and I'm wearing a ski jacket and thermal underwear, is one I want to meet in person.

So if your name is - or you know someone whose name is - Chris, and you're between the ages of 22 and about 27, with brown hair and warm, soft, sad eyes, possible oriental-caucasian heritage, excellent jaw and cheekbones and a touch of the psychic in you, and have been dreaming for ten years about a chubby blonde girl with big blue eyes who's on a mission to save the world, then give me a ring sometime.

Or just send a message through the ether. Your call.