I really don’t remember much of the dream besides the very last moment of it. When I awoke I understood that there had been more to it, but as to what that was, I didn’t really remember. To be fair, when I woke up I wasn’t really in the correct frame of mind to think like that, but I digress.
I was sitting on the back of an old truck, which was driving through an old city. As far as historical accuracy, this dream didn’t really do so well. But I suppose that even the good dreams of a history student aren’t bound by laws like that. I was wearing a long skirt that was a bluish-green, a white collared shirt, bobby socks, and Mary Janes. We were driving slowly through the city, I was holding onto the bottom of the truck and swinging my feet. And Frank was about to tell me something. Because, well, he was sitting next to me. We were eating candy, probably cherry Life Savers because those were his favorite. But he was about to tell me something really important. I just knew it.
And then…the sound of a hair dryer. Light pouring into my eyes through a crack in the blinds. I had awoken. I’d never find out what happened in that dream. Pretty much…it was terrible. I tried for weeks and weeks to have that dream over again, if only to receive some closure. It didn’t happen. Nope, didn’t happen. Even if he was going to say something like, “You’re about to wake up.” At least I’d have some closure on the situation. But alas, my incredibly dramatic tale of woe comes to a very not-end. But however, while it lasted, that one moment I do remember was pretty much the best dream ever.