Imagine yourself partially awake, when the alarm is going, and the song that is playing suddenly becomes part of your dream. That was the case with me this morning; I woke up to Harry Connick Jr.’s Come by Me. I was dreaming that I had met this young woman on my doorstep. She was about mid-twenties or so. It was really odd, because my doorbell rang and when I went to open the door, it was already open. This girl was standing in the doorway acting like she had something to say but instead of saying something, she just stood there staring at me. That was when the alarm went off. I found myself actually singing the lyrics that were unconsciously playing in my ears to the girl: Come by me, come talk to me baby. I allowed the music of the piano to bounce me into a small dance. I was actually having a pretty good time! The girl just stood there with her hand on her hip, and then simply walked away.
I noticed as she walked away from the door that she wasn’t walking into my neighborhood. Instead, it appeared to be some surreal tropical island. The lighting of the sun was off; it gave off an eclipse-like glow to the waters and the beach. The beach was far from normal as well, it contained blue sands. As the girl walked away her footprints did not turn a darker blue as expected instead they were somewhat purplish. Still in the dream and confused I shook my head. I also noticed the girl was walking towards a darkened figure that seemed to float just above the banks of the waters. I couldn’t get a good look at the figure for my wife’s voice entered from the darkened skies…
“Joel, Joel, wake up,” said my wife, Sylvia as she was shaking me to wake up, and that’s when I realized I was singing.
“Tell me how,” I sang, “We can combine…”
“I’ll show you how we can combine,” she said and rolled over on top of me. With the alarm still playing Harry Connick Jr., we made love. Afterwards, Sylvia jumped across the bed to turn off the alarm and then turned to me and said, “What in the world were you dreaming about this time, Joel?” I looked at her confused. I never dream that often, and when I did it was hardly ever anything to talk about the next morning. She asked me this like it was a disease I had.
“What are you talking about? Was I talking in my sleep or something? If I was, I don’t remember.” My conscience jumped in the conversation. “Liar,” it said.
“You were singing, Joel. And in key at that! I thought you told me you couldn’t carry a tune? Anyways, it’s time for you to get up. You are still going to the gym every morning, aren’t you?”
Thank God she changed the subject.
It was 5:35 am and I couldn’t figure out what she was doing awake anyway. The sun didn’t even begin to peek its way into the world yet and here was my wife, the early bird. Yeah right. Usually she sleeps in past noon and sits in front of the television all afternoon watching soap operas until I get home from work. How she stayed so damn thin all these years is still a natural wonder to me.
“Yes, I’m still going to the gym everyday. Why else would a fat slob like me get up before dawn?” I said sarcastically. I rolled out of bed, finding my boxers on the floor. I picked them up and put them on, one leg at a time.
“There’s nothing wrong with being a little overweight, Joel. I just wish you were a little healthier.” My wife has this idea that I’m overweight and that I should work out before I go to work. Not a bad idea, but I never really considered myself to be overweight. I’m big boned maybe, but not overweight. I guess she’s just looking out for my health. Not such a bad thing, I guess.
“I’m going to go downstairs and get me some breakfast,” I said. “You catch some sleep, ok?” She nodded and then nodded her way into a deep sleep before I even left the bedroom. I stopped to use the bathroom on my way downstairs and as I stopped to look in the mirror, I took a good look at my face. It didn’t look like the rest of my body was overweight. Oh well, no use worrying about it. I’ll just have to learn to live with the fact that I might actually be a little on the heavy side.
So I turn to the john to relieve myself and that damn song came back into my head. Come by me, come talk to me baby. Could it be that I knew what song was going to be playing on the radio at 5 a.m.? Well, it is a good possibility since I do own the damn radio station, but highly unlikely. I remembered the look on the girl’s face just before she turned to disappear off my doorstep. She almost looked pissed off. What the hell did I do to piss off this girl? Damn, I hate it when I do something wrong and nobody lets me in on it. I could’ve slammed the door in her face, how pissed would she be then? I laughed. Thinking about the dream this much was stupid. But yet I felt it held significance somehow. I just can’t pinpoint it.
The song returned. Try me out, and if you get excited, take me home, I’m sure you’ll be delighted. The more I thought about it, the more it was pissing me off. I couldn’t believe that I was obsessing like this. It was as if this girl was trying to tell me something in her silence.
I finished my leak and headed downstairs for what my wife would call a “healthy breakfast.” I took one good look at the bran muffins in the cupboard and decided to sneak a bowl of Count Chocula instead. I poured myself a bowl, silently, and sat down to shove it into my face as fast as I could. I don’t know why; it wasn’t like Sylvia was going to wake up or anything. But just the same, I did it anyway.
After finishing my cereal, with low fat milk (not so bad after all) I went back upstairs to get ready for the gym. By this time, it was a little after 6 a.m. and the sun was just starting to fade away the moon. I thought of the island outside my door in my dream and then realized that the sun coming up was my cue to hurry up and get to the gym before I was late for work. I dug through my dresser until I found a pair of sweat pants and a not so dirty t-shirt. I slipped them on, and still found the melody of Harry Connick Jr.’s voice and piano solo in my head. Immediately, I thought of the girl again. I really wanted to talk to her by this point. I wanted to know more. Of what, I don’t know. But I also wonder if I’m attracted to her. Could that be it?
Sylvia would kill me if she knew what was going on in my head right now. Luckily, Sylvia was sleeping soundly, and did not ask what my thoughts were at this point. I put the thought aside and headed for the door.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish