“What’d you say after that?” I asked, thankful that he’d seemed so willing to forget about our earlier almost-fight.
“Well, I didn’t say anything,” he shrugged. “But I couldn’t let her walk around down there alone. You know what that place is like? Even she could get raped.”
“Well, rapists typically don’t pay attention to the personality,” I noted cynically. “Sometimes they don’t even pay much attention to the body. Did you hear about the granny-raper?”
“Ew,” Gee groaned.
“Anyway, what did you do?”
You can see I’m way too into this gossiping thing. I’m like a middle school girl when it comes to talking about bitches and jocks.
“I picked her up and dragged her to the library, listening to her curse me out every second. She needs to realize she’s not invincible. She’s pretty light, actually. Well, she’s about four-eleven, so I should’ve expected that. But still.”
I felt a smirk form on my lips as he continued talking about his day and the random things involved. He kept going off topic and would talk about something a subject would remind him of; because everyone knows how bad Gee’s ADHD can get. Every now and then he’d ask me a question and actually wait for me to answer, which I would in turn then be forced to snap out of my world and speak. His artistic mind must have something to do with his chatter...of course, music falls into the art category and I don’t talk that much. I don’t think.
His eyes lit up about one thing in particular: french art. That’s one of his favorite types of art, along with his cartoons. I don’t know how he went from Morgan’s stubborn tendencies to french art, but he went on that for about ten minutes. Meanwhile, I listened to every other sentence to make sure he didn’t expect me to interject or answer something, and tuned out otherwise. Something else had my attention; “something,” meaning my recent dreams.
Some people believe dreams can predict the future. Religious people think they’re God-given. Others believe they tell you about your feelings, or your desires.
My dreams never predicted the future...and I don’t believe in God. Since I had no idea what they were, I doubted they reflected my desires...but then I hadn’t considered whether my subconscious preferred symbolism.
I didn’t really understand why I bothered; everytime I thought about it, I only caused myself more confusion. The lady in white made no sense to me, although she seemed as simple as a lyric. How could I not understand a lyric? And the male voice whose figure never showed...yet still sent shivers down my spine.
I decided on a different approach, and tried to figure out when the dreams started. If I could, that is, as my memory had failed me lately.
“Are you listening?” Gee asked.
That’s when it started.
“Whoa, what?” I jerked.
“Are you depressed?” he asked bluntly.
I needed to stay in the real world. But that bitch....