Dream Connection

Harry was a normal guy. He had a normal job. He drove a normal car. Suffice it to say that he wasn’t the most exciting person. If he was a colour, he would be grey. A spice he would be salt. That wasn’t to say he was a boring person. He played hockey for England – in the senior division, he once swam the channel, his wife didn’t own a vibrator.

Harry liked to think he was real. But there was always a doubt in his mind. When he was asleep – or perhaps when she was awake – he became someone else. Vivienne was everything Harry wasn’t. She was bold, daring, a raging bisexual in the shortest skirt she could find and – most importantly – she had never touched a hockey stick.

Vivienne had just broken up with her girlfriend and Harry felt her heartbreak like his own. He’d woken from the dream – or Vivienne had started to dream – and Harry nearly kicked Melanie out of bed. She was 4 months pregnant and had no sense of humour at 4am.

“Harry,” she had said. “What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else?” The more he spoke the less it makes sense. “Sorry, just a dream.” He was dreading going back to sleep.

“Just go back to sleep,” his wife said, rolling over and taking the covers with her. Harry lay awake until he had to get up for work. He went about his life normally. Drove to work normally. Had his usual at the coffee shop – a bacon bap and a latte – and went to work normally. Normal. Boring. Harry.

*

Vivienne woke up and for a moment she was confused. She could’ve been sure she had a wife. But that was her alter ego, Harry. Plain old Harry. She hoped he was the dream, but she was sure it was her. Harry’s life was far too normal to be a dream. Right?

Viv had broken up with her third partner in two months. Viv didn’t even have a job. She couldn’t drive. She spent most of her life getting shit faced or scrolling the job market blankly. She did her laundry at the laundrette once a week. Dyed her hair every time she had a breakdown – twice in the last fortnight. Michelle left her because she was ‘too much’. That was Viv. Too fucking much. She needed a release.

*

Harry woke up sad. Vivienne’s life was a struggle. If anything, she had to be real. She had far too many problems to be the dream. Harry’s life was nice, normal. Too normal.

By lunch he had all but forgotten Vivienne’s depression. Lost in the numbers and columns of the never ending spreadsheets.

“Hey Harry,” Carl said, leaning against the door to Harry’s office. “How’s Mel holding up?”

“She’s doing good, cravings really got her yesterday.”

“Oh yeah, what was it?”

“Marshmallows dipped in chilli sauce.”

*

Viv woke up at noon and immediately set about job hunting. She propped her laptop up against her legs and snatched the day-old donut off her bedside table. God, she wanted some marshmallows. Screw Harry’s wife. There was a bag downstairs behind her favourite mug. If she applied to a job before – she checked the time – 1 o’clock she’d go down and eat them by the handful.

The job market was bleak. Care assistant. School teacher. Driver. None of these things she was qualified for. Harry had his life together. A job, a car, a driving license, a wife and 2.5 kids. Maybe he was the dream after all.

Screw it. Viv grabbed her nicest dress and highest heels.

*

Vivienne had gone out clubbing and Harry is pretty sure she had passed out in a bush. That will be fun for her to wake up to. Oh, to be young and free. Harry looked at the clock on his bedside table – 5am – kissed his wife on the forehead and got up. Quiet as a mouse he got dressed in the dark and made his way out the door by 5:20. He sighed as he settled into the driver’s seat. Who would dream about getting up this early? He had to be real.

The multi-level car park was completely empty when he pulled in – only his colleagues cars dotted about. Harry slid into his favourite space and pulled himself out of the car. He checked his watch and, seeing he still had about half an hour before he needed to be at his desk, he wandered down to the coffee shop next door. The barista gave him a bright smile when he opened the door. “Hi Harry,” she said. “The usual?”

“I’ll take a donut today thanks Mary,” he said, returning her smile. With his latte and donut secured, Harry made his way outside.

*

Viv woke up suddenly with a branch stuck in her hair and a pounding headache. It was still dark outside. What had woken her up?

She rubbed a hand over her forehead and tried to think past the headache. Oh. Oh god. Harry. Viv sat up and pulled the branch from her hair.

Harry had been run over. On his way out of the coffee shop a car had swerved, out of control, on to the pavement. It had taken out two other pedestrians before pinning Harry against a lamp post.

Did that mean he was the dream? Or was Viv now a coma dream?

Standing up, Vivienne brushed herself off and straightened her dress before starting the walk of shame home. What happened if Harry died? Would she die too? Is that how this worked?

She didn’t want to die. And, existential crisis be damned, she didn’t want Harry to die either. If either of them was to die, she thought it should be her. Harry had a wife and kids. All Viv had was a hangover.

God, she didn’t want to die. She pressed her hands to the side of her head as she trudged down the street. She was barefoot, having lost her heels at some point in the night, but she didn’t care.

As she recovered from the hangover, Harry’s accident in her dream faded somewhat from her mind. She went about her day (job hunting was a pain) and when she was ready to sleep that night it all came rushing back to the forefront of her mind.

Would she dream of Harry tonight? Or is this the end of their connection?