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I’m In Love

I saw her again tonight. The woman of my dreams. She’s literally inside my dreams. They’re not all saucy dreams, either. Last night, I dreamt of her having dinner with me. We had an excellent time and I was beyond smitten… but that’s when I realized that dream me wasn’t the real me. Instead, he was my coworker, a handsome buck who wants for naught (if looks are all you need.)

It made me feel really insecure, to say the least. Did we have a great dinner because she liked what I said or because she likes the looks of my coworker instead? Is she going to daydream being with him while instead she holds me in her arms? It’s nothing short of agony…

But that guy leaves hours before I do, thanks to seniority. He came back and bumped my schedule weeks ago, which turned into me missing seeing the beautiful woman that wormed her way into my dreams… that is, until tonight. It was half past eight and suddenly she was right there. I didn’t even realize it was her until she was almost gone again. I didn’t see her looking at me this time, sadly, but she was there. Hours after said coworker went home.

As luck — or perhaps fate — would have it, around 5:30 pm, the time she’d come around before, I am always in the back now, doing shitty chores to help keep things moving. I loved working there until this guy came back, wrecking my schedule and making me start hours later than I used to. I still have not adjusted completely and end up coming home, shoveling food into me, and passing out. But not tonight…

Tonight, I’m up much later than usual ruminating on The Beautiful Woman(TM). My god, calling her that seems to be a disgrace and dishonor to her. I’m sure there is much more to her than mere beauty. She doesn’t walk around flirting with everything that moves, which is confusing to me really. In fact, I thought The Beard(TM) was my worst nightmare when it came to her, since he breaks all the rules and talks to the patrons. There is no reason for him to be anywhere but at a station, doing work. That’s what we’re paid to do… not goof off and talk to beautiful women.

In fact, it’s an offense that can get him fired, which is why I haven’t spoken to The Lady(TM). I’ve never heard her speak, not once. Instead of saying, “Excuse me,” and butting through and disrupting my work, she went around even though it was clearly out of her way. I don’t know if she respects people doing their job or if she’s giving me in particular a wide berth or not… I hope for the former, fervently so.

I assume I am avoiding sleep because I’ll meet her there again. I meet her there every night and have for months now. She is more like a Disney princess than a hag, which one would expect from a woman whose beauty could start wars. (It’ll be awkward if her name is Helen, I’ll tell you that.)

After dreaming about a first date that went the best way possible — including a marriage proposal — I had another dream with her in it. I’m embarrassed to say it was wet dream material; I was fully aroused and begging her to touch me, basically, and instead of taking it to some sexual peak, she gave me a massage. She told me she was ever so flattered, but she wanted to be married before she had sex again.

Where on Earth do I get the fuel for these dreams? It gets worse the more I think about it… I’ve dreamt up the most incredible woman and, now, if I speak to her and find out she’s either taken or nothing like that, I’m going to be disappointed. I remember asking her if she was real once and she replied, “I think so. I’m not sure anymore.” It’s not unlike an Alice in Wonderland adventure, dreaming of her night after night and then daydreaming about my dreams day after day.

Everything makes about as much sense as the Cheshire cat, too. In fact, she tells me she has two cats matter-of-factly. She uses the same names — names I would never dream of calling any animal — every time they come up. Something is fishy here, amirite? She’s so consistent in these dreams, it blows my mind! So I asked her again if she was real. Her reply? “I’m wide awake and in bed, talking to myself, thinking I’m talking to a grey-eyed deli man instead of thin air. Does that make me real?”

Way to go, Salvador Dali, making the clocks melt again just when I believed she was real. But the insanity does not stop there, no. The dream woman is as consistent as can be! If I am grumpy, she comforts. If I am achy, she soothes. If I am distressed, she calms me down. She responds to my emotional state like a real human would instead of giving me Alice-style quotes and leaving me hanging. Is she an angel? Do angels really exist?

Do I have the hots for an angel?

Otherwise, I suspect I have a brain tumor. What is wrong with me that for two months I dream of the same woman? She never leaves my brain for very long at all… every time I almost forget about her, there she is. No conspiratorial wink, like I hope for, no smile to knock me off my guard. Nothing. Just a grim and determined kind of face as she walks by very calmly. She doesn’t even always have anything in her cart when she walks by and she never stops to take food from the deli, so what makes her walk through the deli?

Could I be the reason? That’s awfully egotistical of me to think so, I assure myself. I wish I was the reason. I wish I was going home to Super Babe and rubbing her shoulders until she feels amazing, having a candle-lit dinner for two, having a snuggle-fest in bed, and then having the most amazing sleep. Would she still be in my dreams if we were in the same bed together? I don’t know. I hope so. I’d love her to be with me always, provided she’s the dream woman I’ve come to know.

I’ll tell you what that woman is besides surreal. Daunting. Attractive. Charismatic. Funny. Wonderful. She’s like a therapist, an artist, a baker, a chef, a caretaker, and so much more rolled into one wrapper… a sexy super babe.

I still can’t believe she never brings anyone in to shop with her. Not a soul. It’s just her, pushing a tiny little cart around, moving rather slowly (but surely) as she walks by. I miss the days of locking eyes with her. I’m not sure what color her eyes are, but I bet they’re beautiful up close. They aren’t brown or green, that’s all I can say for sure.

Today, she was wearing flip flops. The season for those passed at least a week ago. It rained for days, then the temperature took a swan dive. She had on a sweat shirt, some Aladdin-styled pants, and flip flops. I looked at her feet as I walked behind her, trying not to run her over. She was moving excessively slowly, so I did my best. I have no idea why she moves so slowly, but if she is the one and the same woman in my dreams, she sustained a back injury somewhere along the way. She says her back hurts all the time, basically. Maybe walking through the store is part of some sort of physical therapy. I’d rub her back, if I could. I’d love to help her pain go away.

Despite being in pain all the time, she’s almost always pleasant company. I’ve only witnessed her angry once and she said, “This is me, angry! I will only say what I’m saying once and I expect you to do something to change the situation.” I can’t even remember what she was angry about, but it wasn’t anything like plates flying at my head or stomping around or even yelling or arguing. She told me what she didn’t like and then it was over.

Does this person sound like a real human being? Nay, she doesn’t… and thus I’m terrified to pieces of saying anything to her whatsoever. I’m disgusted with myself, thinking that my dreams might be about a real person, a person who seems like Jesus Christ reincarnated, and this woman wants me? Whatever for? I’m just a simple deli man, doing my best day in and day out to make ends meet so I don’t have to tuck tail and run away to live with my parents…

That reminds me. She told me she was stuck living with her parents. She’s totally over it, she said once. I think that she meant she was not thrilled to be there anymore, taking care of them. They’re elderly, from what I’ve gathered, and really putting her mettle to the test it seems, one way or another. I feel bad, you know? A dream woman has problems and I feel bad about it. #I’mInsane

I asked her why, of course. She told me how she does all the laundry, the dishes, the cooking, the baking, the cleaning… everything. And they won’t let her get a maid to help her. That’s the part that twists me up inside. They won’t let her get a maid to clean the house? Why not? I forgot to ask her, maybe tonight when I dream of her, I can find out the answer.

And that’s the worst part… we typically just pick up where we left off. It doesn’t feel exactly like a dream to me, but I can’t shake it and it makes absolutely no sense. If it’s not a dream, why is she in my head while I’m asleep? Is she really sitting around, wide awake, talking to thin air while I am asleep? It’s almost enough to make me believe in God again, I’ll tell you what.

But why now? Why is this gorgeous woman falling into my dreams, talking to me? I’m not a looker, not at all… that’s why I had the dream about being my coworker. It went smashingly, too! She told me all about herself, left space for me to talk and be myself, and it was a dynamic conversation that meant we were both paying the utmost attention to each other. That’s unheard of! She wasn’t even on her phone to Google something; she says, “Oh, well… I’ll ask Google later.”

She’s always dressed in pajamas in my dreams, too. All kinds of pajamas, primarily girly girl colors, but nothing like lingerie. You’d think my dreams would go there at some point, but they never do. Isn’t that usually how wet dreams work, fellas? They’re wearing something seductive, the clothes (might) come off, and then there’s sex and then it’s gone and we (might) wake up with a mess in our shorts. But dreaming of her is nothing like that at all, not even when I did dream that we had sex. That happened just once… boy, was that exciting.

I’m both dreading and hoping for one thing to happen tomorrow night: she rolls around the deli about 9:00 pm. A little past nine, actually, so I can chase after her and ask her for her phone number if saying hello goes well. It can’t hurt me to say hello, I figure, since that’s a human being greeting we all accept these days. (In fact, she told me that a few nights ago.) If I get the vibe she doesn’t like it, I’ll just bid her a good evening and run away.

But then… what happens if I get her number? What do I do? The dream woman has told me everything I’d already want to know… if she is aware of being in my dreams, isn’t it kind of insulting to ask her all the same questions I’ve already ask her? On the other hand, if she’s not aware of it, then I could be jumping the gun because I don’t know where to begin to unravel the story that I’ve been learning about for the past two months.

I’ve thought about asking her for her phone number in my dreams, but I doubt I’ll remember it when I wake up, so I don’t. I can’t remember my own phone number in my dreams, either, because I wanted to give it to her before and it wouldn’t come out. If I could just do that one thing and get a text from her… then I’d know for sure it’s all real.

Instead, I am left chasing after her (albeit, she walks incredibly slowly, so it will not be a feat to catch up) and asking her in the middle of the store I work in if she would give me her contact details. Maybe I should just ask her for a date instead… that’s the whole point of getting a phone number anyway, isn’t it? But am I being too forward if I just ask her to go out with me? It’ll be after 9:00 PM, so I have no idea where we could go so late to enjoy a date (if she wants it right away, anyway… I have no idea what she would want, but I want it ten days ago. STAT!)

What’s a guy to do? I don’t want to be a slime bag. I don’t want to be callous, cruel, or mean. How do I go about asking for a date without coming across as such? How do I be a perfect gentleman with a lady who — if she’s really in my dreams — is the hottest babe I have ever even conceived of? What do I say? How do I make sure I’m not jumping ahead? Do I encourage her to talk? What if she’s not so talkative outside of my dreams and there’s a ton of dead silence? How do we figure out what we have in common without complete awkwardness?

Every night, night after night, dream Crystal tells me she wants to be married. Maybe that’s how I should begin… “Excuse me. I might just be crazy, but… would you marry me?” It sounds beyond stupid saying that out loud just now, but why not? It’s not against the rules to ask someone to marry you. It’s not exactly hitting on her. It’s not saying, “I want your body!” which is what Wegmans is really trying to discourage, if you ask me. No. It’s saying, “Wanna spend your life with me?”

It’s bold, though. It’s so bold it’s making me extremely uncomfortable. I’ve asked her to marry me dozens of times in the dreams already, so you’d think I’d be at ease with this idea by now, having role-played it out twenty two times and counting. (Okay, it’s not quite dozens, but we’re almost there.) In the dream, she is constantly telling me to put a ring on her finger, too. And I know what you’re thinking… some giant diamond with this fancy thing and that… but it’s not.

She told me last night she wanted a red ruby heart on a sterling silver band and that she’d buy it herself if she had to. And then she said she won’t say yes until I have my own ring, so I can show off that I’m taken, too, because there is no gender equality if I don’t wear a ring while I’m spoken for. To her, all men are taken because they don’t have to wear a ring while they gallivant around, affianced. Nay, instead, they show off how a woman is property by putting a rock on her hand while they wait around and make sure it’s the choice they want to make.

I’m actually okay with this idea, altogether. In fact, I’d be willing to run off to the Justice of the Peace tomorrow if she said yes. I don’t even care if she’s not the woman I’ve been dreaming about. She’s beyond stunningly beautiful and I know I can make it work if I just try hard enough. Plus, there’s always marriage counseling. And maybe that’s what I should tell her in my dreams tonight… that I want to go to a premarital counseling session (or however many it takes.) I don’t know if she’d agree, but if she’s serious about getting hitched, then I imagine she would.

But how does that help me in the waking world? How does premarital counseling in my dreams help me bridge the gap between eye fucking each other and actually fucking each other? (Although she told me she’d prefer to call it making love, as I recall, so right there is a difference that is noteworthy.) And just like that, she seems so real. She uses vocabulary I rarely bother with. She uses phrases I’ve never even heard of. In fact, one time, I woke up and Googled something stuck in my head from a dream and it was real. Something I never heard of before in my life! And it was real! (Too bad I can’t remember what it was… some obscure fact about something scientific that I now accept as truth.)

And there it is. I’ve just talked myself into believing she’s 100% real. She’s a person like none I’ve ever met before… and even in my wildest imagination, I could not make her up. I didn’t make her up.

I didn’t make her up.

Then he hit publish on his private online diary.

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