Dream a Little Dream

The sweetest dreams are the ones that leave you with a taste for more. Those that when they inevitably end, you harness all your mind power to try to sink into them once again. Dreams that don't even feel like dreams anymore. So good, yet so devastating to wake up from.

But alas, the alarm rang, and you had to rise up slowly and reluctantly from your bed, looking affectionately at your cotton candy like pillow. You were only left with the distant memory of that warm and cozy dream. 

You put on your slippers and walk down the stairs to the kitchen. Your roommate already left. You chuckle at the thought of waking up at 6:00 a.m. in order to catch the bus and sit behind a desk all day. You are not like him. You are not basic.

"I am going to be a famous writer soon", you proudly say to yourself. "I'm going to be a writer!" This time out loud.

You look around embarrassedly. You forgot that you were alone for a moment. A soft smile spreads on your face as you grab your favorite mug. 

Your phone beeps. It's a text message from your mom. "Don't forget to pick up your sister's coke for her birthday", it reads. Then another message: "OOPS! CAKE!"

The smile on your face widens. Mom and her shenanigans. You reply with a simple "OK".

You pour some coffee from the pot that your roommate made. It's not hot enough for your taste, but you don't really want to make a fresh pot so you roll with it.

You open The Guardian's news app because you are a progressive liberal and you like the look of the app on your phone. It's one of those apps that when somebody asks to borrow your phone they will go: "Hmm… I didn't know you read the Guardian"! And in your head you will go: "Yeah… I'm better than you".

You snap back from this thought, feeling superior. You open the forecast section of the app and scroll down a bit. "It's going to be sunny today", you mumble as you take another sip of the not-so-hot coffee. 

You take your mug with you to your work room, which also happen to be your own room and you open your laptop. 

You open the document called: "Bookfinalversion1".

You know it's not going to be the final version, but you were optimistic when you first opened that document.

The day goes by in an instant. You wrote more than you ever wrote in your whole life. You felt like you are in a trance, or in space! Floating in your own imagination, writing meaningful and powerful literature, that will surely be talked about for centuries. People will call you the "modern version of Shakespeare", and you will sign countless books at every Barnes and Nobles in the country! NAY! In the galaxy!

Of course, that did not happen. You grope your face in your hands, the agonizing feeling of despair and uselessness drowning every single organ in your useless body. Maybe you should have been a banker anyway. Maybe dad was right.

It was already noon. You find yourself staring aimlessly at your phone, this time scrolling through Tik-Tok. You feel disgusted with yourself, yet you can not bring yourself to stop. Young teens and white men in their therties alike, trying to seem cool to their friends and co-workers. They all lipsync to overtly sexual songs. 

As you sink into your bed and your cotton candy like pillow, a thought pops into your head. "Shit!" You say while rising quickly from the bed, "The cake!"

You swiftly put on your clothes and walk outside. The bakery is only a five minutes walk from your house.

You walk quickly and intently. You see all these people pulling out umbrellas and rushing down the street. You don't understand why. It is a sunny day after all.

You get to the bakery and reach with your hand to open the door. You see that your hand is dripping with water. You didn't even notice the rain while you were walking down the street.

You walk into the bakery, accompanied with a squishy sound coming from your shoes. The cashier looks at you and tries to contain her laughter. A small chuckle still escapes her mouth.

"I'm here for my sister's birthday cake." You say with a serious facade.

The cashier walks to the back room and comes back with a box. She opens it and shows you the cake. It is a beautifully decorated chocolate cake, with white and pink frosting and "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" written in big, bold, meticulously drawn letters.

The rain is still pouring outside like crazy. "Do you want to stay here for a while? I noticed you don't have an umbrella".

You squint your eyes at her, then smile. "I wonder how you came to that conclusion! And yeah, I would love to".

You sit down on one of the few chairs at the small space. The cashier sits right next to you. 

"So it's your sister's birthday?" She asks while moving her chair closer to yours.

"Yeah, she's 14."

"Oh! Quite the age gap".

"Different moms, so yeah".

You talk for a while. She is the most engaging woman you ever talked to. The smell of the rain and the freshly baked cakes and breads mix to create the perfect atmosphere for an unexpected heart to heart talk like this. You try to take it all in, severing every moment.

"Well", you say reluctantly, "gotta go! I'll see you around sometimes."

"Yeah… Oh! One last thing!"

She leans in for a kiss, her lips plump and pink. You lean in as well.

Then the alarm rings. You open your eyes and find yourself drooling on your soft, cotton candy like pillow, longing for the dream that escaped your brain.

You close your eyes and try to remember the cashier, but with no luck. You rise up from the bed and look out the window. It's a sunny day.