Love Story (3) - Dream

"It's just a stupid dream... ..." At starbuck, table for two, over one double shot espresso and one decaf vanilla cappuccino, we were busy doing our little catch up during class break (yea, Grace and I are very different kinds of people). "So you are not gonna go out with him?" I could tell she was a little disappointed. "I don't know, I am kinda seeing someone right now." "What? and you didn't tell me?!" Now, this time she is real mad. I didn't tell her because she also knows him, it's a brother in our church. There is this chemistry between us, but it's good to keep it under ground, especially if you are in a church life. Anyways, it's kind of sad that it seems the only way for girls to bond is to talk about guys in their lives. Everytime we meet, our topic would wind up going down that direction. She would talk about her crush, and I would get all excited babbling about mine. Woman, can we talk about something else? like books, or movies, music, anything but guys, they are not the whole world.

Afternoon, after a whole two-hour lecture about complex analysis, my brain was desperately in need of something sans logic and reasoning, so I sought refuge in Cody's. It's my favorite place to spend a lazy afternoon. Sometimes I would devote all three hours to Cosmo, other times I would peruse over some big thick novels I know I won't read if I buy them, it all depends on my mood, and that particular afternoon, I was in mood of something mysterious, like a psychological thriller or something. I guess it has something to do with that dream... ... Literature section, I was going through the books randomly on the rack. "Can't decide which one to read?" An old man, dressed like any homeless guy on Telegraph, standing behind me asked. I nodded. "Here, I think you should read this." As soon as I took the book from his weather-worn hands, he vanished. Okay, this is getting more and more twilight zone to me, I better go home now. As I rushed out of the bookstore, all those strange scenes from the dream came back to me, somehow, I heard his whisper again, or is that just the wind?

I ran all the way to the bus station, totally forgot about the book that was under my arm the whole time, until I got home. Great, I just stole a book. So, what is the book you may ask. It's W. Somerset Maugham's Of Human Bondage. It's sitting right next to my laptop right now, a little worn, and if you flip through it, you would find a hand-written note tucked in the middle, which reads "I like Felicity." ... ...

Something about dreams. Are they just some random mental activities when we fall asleep? or they mean more than that, more than we can fathom. Like a portal, through which we enter into a mystic realm, where someone is trying to communicate with us.