The City of Dreams -- Part 10

[Slightly shorter section this time; it really is a continuation of the last section, though, so don't complain at me too much.  I'll see if I can get another section written tonight, but don't count on it.  Fat Tony needs some good attention.  I want to start sending it out to agents by the end of the week, which is a little ambitious.

[And frankly, as far as my writing goes, I think a little ambition isn't a bad thing.]


"That was an adventure, wasn't it," said Not.
I just gasped.  The bush quivered at me with some curiosity.
"To think that we'd get to see something that probably very few people have ever had a chance to see," he went on.  "I mean, I've spent some time watching nature programs, and the show about the mating habits of fire hydrants was fascinating, but I'd never even heard of street light dominance rituals.  I feel invigorated."
My body was shaking, and it took me a minute to realize I was laughing.
"Not," I said, "you are nuts."
I could feel him smiling at me.
"Seems like you're feeling better," he said.  "Now you can answer my question."
"Which question was that?"
"Are you going to ask Brie out?"
I shook my head.  "She doesn't really like me.  I may be dense, but I'm not that dense.  If a girl liked me, I'd know it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure.  She doesn't like me.  I mean, not in that way."
"No," said Not.  "I meant, are you sure you'd know it?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know," said Not, and I could feel him give the abandoned dream equivalent of a shrug.  "It's just that you feel pretty self absorbed to me, so I'm not sure that you're always aware of what other people think about you.  I mean, I bet you think about it a lot, but I doubt you're always good at really seeing it."
I felt annoyed.  "I'm not self absorbed."
"Brie had to tell you what her name was."
"That's not the point," I said.
"You'd been in the same English class for most of a school year."
"But there are lots of people in my classes whose names I don't know."
"Exactly," said Not.
"You're annoying," I said.
"I'm just trying to point out that she might very well like you and you haven't realized it."
I shook my head, the grass rustling around my ears.  "Some people do more touching than other people.  I'm a non-toucher, and Brie is a toucher, but that doesn't mean she likes me.  If I went around thinking that every girl who ever touched me was in love with me, I'd think half the school was in love with me."
"Do that many girls actually touch you?" asked Not.
I thought about it.
"Is that a hard question to answer?" he prodded.
"Not that many, I guess," I finally admitted.
"How many?"
"None."
"So other girls don't touch you, and Brie does, and you don't think she likes you."
"But why should she?  It's not like I'm anything special, and she's got to have lots of friends, so why pick a guy who never talks to anybody, who walks around unhappy most of the time, and who doesn't look like much of anything?"
"I'm not sure you have a very clear picture of yourself," said Not.
"Sure I do," I muttered.  I was starting to feel distressingly like I usually felt when I was awake, and I didn't like it much.  Not should either go away or change the subject.   He didn't.
"Also, I don't think you have a good grasp of who Brie is, either.”
"She's a drama person.  Drama people are just like that."
"Like what?"
"Like she is!"
"And how is that?"
"They're more touchy and flirty and stuff like that.  It doesn't mean anything."
"It doesn't mean anything, or you don't want it to mean anything?"
"You are really on my nerves now."
"You could always wake up," said Not.
"Shut up," I said.
"Want me to change the subject?"
"Yes, please."
"Why aren't you with Brie right now?"
"That isn't changing the subject," I said.
"Sure it is," said Not.  "Before I was asking you if you were going to ask her out, and then we were talking about whether or not she likes you, and now I'm changing the subject."
"But we're still talking about Brie.  I wanted to move away from that."
"You didn't make that clear," said Not.
"I'm making it clear now.  Let's talk about something else."
"I don't want to," said Not.
"Why not?"
"I like her."
"Fine.  Go hang out with her."
"I like you, too, though.  Can't I hang out with both of you?"
"I was rude to her, all right?  I didn't really mean to be, but I was mean to her, and she's mad at me, and I need to apologize, but I'll probably just mess it up again, and I don't want to mess it up, so I'm putting it off, all right?  Does that answer your question?"
Not held very still for a moment.  "Yes, it does."
"Good," I said.  "Now can we change the subject?"
"I think," said Not, "not."
"Why, Not?"
"Because I can't figure something out."
"Are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?"
"I'll tell you."
"I'm waiting."
"I'm trying to understand why you're so convinced that you'll mess it up."
"Because I always do.  I always say the wrong thing, and my mouth doesn't work, and I carry grumpiness around me like a dark, stinky blanket.  Unless I'm making jokes, it feels like I'm just sharing that blanket with everyone I meet, and I don't want to share with Brie.  I mean, I do want to share with Brie, but not the gross blanket."
Not thought for a moment.  "That's when you're awake, though, right?"
"Yeah."
"How do you know that will be true while you're asleep?"
It was my turn to think for a bit.  "It is easier to talk in the City."
"Your feelings come out right, don't they," said Not.
"At least much closer to what I want to say, yeah."
"And you had fun with her last night."
"A lot."
"Then go find her.  Give it a try.  Apologize when you're not carrying your blanket."
I tried to get a good look at Not and failed, but kept trying anyway.  "Whoever abandoned you probably did want to be a psychiatrist," I said.  "At least a therapist of some kind."
"I thought about it," said Not, "but I don't think so.  It's just kind of easy to understand you."
"I'm that obvious, huh?"
"Like the back of my hand."
I looked down at my hand, lit from the glow of the bushes and trees around and above me.  "I've never paid much attention to the back of my hand," I said, "and do you even have one?"
"I do have hands," said Not, "but I'm not positive they have backs."
"What would an abandoned dream need backs to his hands for?" I said.
"Exactly," said Not.
I thought about what he was saying.  He had a lot of good points.  I was being grumpy more out of habit than anything else.  Unlike during my waking hours, apologizing to Brie didn't seem doomed to failure in the City.  Maybe I could say the right words, or at least say it with enough sincerity that she'd realize all my wrong words were an honest attempt to say the right thing.  We'd had a lot of fun, and then I ignored her, and then I didn't even tell her I was glad to see her.  If a girl started talking to me that way, I would have been waiting for her to tell me she just wanted to be friends.
"Why not?" I said.
"Why not what?" asked the dream.
"Why not apologize?  Why not do it here?  It has a better chance of working than trying to do it during the day.  Anything can happen in the City, right?"
"Well, technically, no, not anything can happen here," said Not.
"I think I'm going to ignore that comment," I said.
"Fair enough," said Not.
"So how do I find her?"
"I don't know," said Not.
I stared at him.
"Then why did you suggest that I go find her?  And how do you find me?"
"I find you because I find you.  The rest of the time I just wander around, which is another reason that I don't go hang out with Brie.  Last time you were the one who found her."
"I didn't find her.  She found me."
"And you're sure she doesn't like you?" asked Not.
"No," I said, "I'm not."  I wasn't sure.  I'd spent lots of the afternoon talking myself out off the possibility, but Not was  pretty convincing, and I wanted her to like me.  I wanted to like her.  "But whether she likes me or not, she deserves an apology.  I should find her and give her that much, and then anything after that--we'll have to figure it out."
"That's a very mature way to look at it," said Not.
"I thought so," I said.
"There is one problem, though."
"What's that?" I asked.  "You mean, a problem besides the fact that we don't know how to find her?"
"Right."
"Please explain."
"The trees are moving away."
"Why is that a problem?"
"Trees and street lights don't get along."
Suddenly the bush scuttled away from over me, giving me a good view of the downward glowing, red gaze of seven street lights.
"I guess they've finished their territorial dominance rituals," said Not.
"Crap," I said.
One street light, scarred and scraped from the recent battle, buzzed at me fiercely and reared his head back.  As it began to streak downward toward me I realized two things: one, I was never going to roll out of the way in time; and two, I didn't want to die.
Not even in a dream.