Disappointment is when you animatedly remind your circle of friends how fun your day out together yesterday was, and they look at you wide-eyed, confused as your loud voice bounces off the hallway.
Embarrassment is when none of them remember that any outing existed. Then you vaguely remember turning into a crocodile during your McDonald’s stop, and it hits you that your ‘fun outing’ was all just a dream. Unfortunately one of your other friends realizes this too and pointedly comments about your mistake.
Horror is when the cute boy who lives three houses down overhears your downfall in the conversation.
If dreams were windows to what’s happening in an alternate dimension, then maybe I’d have an explanation for why I confuse my dreams with reality all the time. It’s led me into awkward moments such as asking what a friend got on a test when the test never actually existed. Or reaching into my binder to pull out homework that, to my horror, I only did in my subconscious thoughts. I’ll go to school and act super awkward towards the cute boy who lives three houses down for half the day because I accidentally poured chocolate milk all over his new Brandy sweater yesterday. Until I realize that was completely a figment of my imagination. He doesn’t even own a Brandy sweater because the only time Brandy makes clothes for guys is in my dreams. But by that time I’ve already thoroughly convinced him I’m mentally insane.
All of of these events may or may not be based off of true stories.
Every now and then when I say something, I have to remind people that I may be telling a complete lie and unaware because I actually can’t distinguish the memory of a dream apart from the memory of something that actually happened.
Suddenly an alarm rings and sound jerks your mind from unconsciousness. Your phone has a seizure on the nightstand, blasting annoying funky disco at an obnoxiously loud volume. It’s 632AM.
Everything was just a dream.
That also means the cute boy who lives three houses down doesn’t exist.