I Think We Were Heading to Prom

Another piece created from my subconscious. A dreamscape that manifested itself at a meeting of creative minds at the Gore Street Cafe. Let me know what your thoughts are. 

It all began in a house.

A large grey house, on Rankin Reserve.

The highway was near, as I could listen to the traffic passing by.

We were all in suits and dresses.

Well, most of us.

Except for him.

A party of sorts.

A dinner party.

A pre-function gathering.

I think we were heading to prom.

I’m not sure why it felt like we were going to prom.

I’ve never been to prom.

But we were celebrating on going.

Heading toward it.

Because suddenly, we were all walking down a street.

Women and non-binaries were wearing elegant, vintage vogue ensembles.

A few guys and gender-fluids were in their coat tails and top hats.

Except for him.

I knew everyone who were present.

All were friends of old and of recent times.

Recanting our journeys, our families, and our individual achievements.

I knew them all.

Except for him.

My mom was there.

Doing her motherly duties, by offering food from a torn knapsack.

She wore a black dress.

He wore jeans, a t-shirt and a dark blue hoodie.

Dirty blond hair and fair skin, were identifiable traits.

I’ve always been attracted to white guys.

Not racist, just preference.


But every time I’d see him, his face would change.

Like physically.

And each time he mystified me with his glassy eyes.

I could see him, but couldn’t see him.

I saw him laughing, but couldn’t make out his laughter.

I wanted to hear it.

And I wanted to know what was so funny.

My past recalls of days of long lost lovers and of one night stands that never really left.

Until they did.

Any of my items of interest and life ventures, never included one thing: Flirting.

Is it googly eyes?

Or a witty joke?

A pleasant compliment?

Or a swipe to the right?

Fishing in a pond that is more like a puddle.

That each of us have already stepped in.

Trying our best not to get muddy.

I never knew how to go about greeting males or hyper-masculine beings, who I fancied.

Except for him.

“Hello” I said.

“Hey! I’ve been meaning to talk to you” as his eyes escaped their glassy form.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Have we met before?” I’m really bad at ‘name games’.

“No, we haven’t. Until now.”

It didn’t take much.

But I took the bait and I was hooked.

We walked along the dirt sidewalk opon my reserve.

As those around us would break into loud conversations and giggles, in their diamonds and silk.

As the wind chilled our skin.

“Do you want to wear my hoodie?” he asked.

“But what would you wear?”

I really wanted to wear his hoodie.

His modern cloak full of smells of his being.

His sweet sweat.

Pheromones of testosterone, that would test my neediness and also my tuck.

“I’ll just stand closer to you” he replied.

A smile that turns to giggles.

Which turns to giddiness then turns to laughter.

Pure, joyous laughter.


As we walk closer to prom, or to wherever we were going, I begin to grow apprehensive.

My mother has disappeared.

And I realize that I am dreaming.

His features stop changing.

And now it is dark.

In a hurry I ask, “Quick! What is your name?”

“My name?” He stared at me, smiling.

“Yes! Hurry! What is it? Please, tell me.”

I was stressed, knowing that I’d lose him.

This dream creature that my subconscious mind developed.

Maybe they were a premonition.

Maybe I’m just delusional.

Or desperate.

Or both.

I grabbed my phone, to type in his name.

To record it.

To remember it.

But I can’t type.

Too fine of an action, that this grey, dreamworld would not allow.

“What is your name?” I ask again.

“I don’t have a phone” He said.

I didn’t care.

At this point, we were all in a trail.

Between the road and the train tracks, in the middle of a bush.

Surrounded by clutter and mother nature.

But we both were standing on the tracks, away from the others.

Everyone was in the ditch, just chilling.

And I was losing my mind, until he said, “I’ll tell you my name.”

“Thank you.”

I thanked him for being him and for being there.

For laughing at my jokes.

For embracing my spirit.

But as he came in closer, a clamor of commotion in the ditch occurred.

The ditch was actually ice.

It cracked over rushing water, as my friends, old and new began to fall.

Now wearing muddy frocks and dirty suits.

He began to laugh.

And I could hear his laughter.

A sound that made my life seem easier.

As he turned back toward me, he looked into my eyes and leaned in closer.

He moved his mouth closer to my ear, as I could now hear his breath.

I could sense his heart energy, as he whispered…

“Wake Up.”


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