For the Love of Geeks

She woke up, and lunged out of bed. She rifled through the drawers to find a pencil, before her fleeting memories of the dream fluttered away.  Even though it was a dream, HER dream, she still felt like she had to commit what she saw to paper.

She scribbled on the paper and grabbed the phone.

When the ringing stopped and her friend groggily answered the phone, she didn’t bother with the pleasantries.

“Meet me as soon as possible. I think I may be losing my mind.”

It was still early, much earlier then she would normally have awoken, but she still felt refreshed, felt like she had a whole nights sleep.  She had not noticed the correlation between the dreams and the way she felt in the morning, but today it stood out.  She knew that she should be tired, knew that she had not had enough sleep, but here she was ready to face the day before the sun had even come up.

Later that morning, she sat in the coffee shop waiting for her friend to arrive, and she rocked back and forth, nervous, for reasons she couldn’t quite understand.

Her friend spotted her from the door, and frowned as she walked over.

“What is wrong with you, you freaked me out this morning with your call!  You wake me up, and not even so much as a good morning, and your barking orders to meet you.” She was clearly irritated, but then she noticed what a wreck she was.  “What’s wrong?”

“You remember the dreams I have been having? With the Guy?”

“Oh yeah” she replied with desire in her voice, “did you finally get him off the towel?” She leaned in obviously expecting a stimulating story, and completely forgetting her earlier irritation.

“No, he wasn’t there this time. When I got there he was already gone.” She sat back.

“Already gone? What are you talking about, you dragged me down here to tell me that you can’t even get your dream men past first base.  You’re buying coffee today”.

“You don’t understand, I don’t think these are just dreams anymore, I think he’s real, and I think he wants me to find him.” Her eyes made it obvious that she was serious when she said that.

She was not the only one to begin realizing that these were more then dreams.

The light was bright and it hurts his eyes, so he was squinting. The air was dirty and it coated his throat almost instantly as he bent over coughing.  The salty air of the ocean was replaced with smell of mold, sweat, and blood.  He gagged for a moment.

The noise of screaming was deafening, it was a cheering sound, but with the disturbing twist of obvious blood lust in the voice of the crowd.  His eyes had not yet adjusted to the new lighting, so he couldn’t see where the sound was coming from, but he could tell he was in the center of the screaming.

He was trying to remember where he was. The last thing he remembered was writing in the sand, on the beach. He realized he was still dreaming and as he came to that realization, he felt the sudden urge to spin around.

Coming directly at him was another man, holding a knife. His eyes finally started to adjust and he could see the crowds sitting all around him screaming and cheering, and it became obvious to him that the two were in a fighting ring, and the crowd wanted him dead.

His thoughts quickly went to the woman he had been with on the beach. He hadn’t known her, but it felt right to be with her, like he was supposed to be in love with her.  He had spent weeks meeting her nightly, sometimes talking about random topics, sometimes passionately kissing.  Tonight, though, not only had she not shown up, but his dream had suddenly shifted to this nightmarish scene.

Like the woman from the beach, he didn’t know this man, but for reasons he couldn’t understand, he hated him, and knew that he had to kill him. It was then that he noticed that he also had a knife in his hand.

He let out a scream as he rushed the man.

He held his knife backwards in his hand so the blade rested on his forearm, he dodged to the left to avoid the clumsy attack of his opponent, and without turning to look at him, spun the knife and drove it deep into his back.

The crowd cheered. He took small comfort in the fact that they didn’t specifically want him dead, either of them would suffice for the crowd.  For a moment, he regained his senses and felt like he needed to drop the knife and run, but as soon as that clarity came, it went, and the lust for violence, and the desire to kill this stranger came back with a force that he couldn’t control.

The other man had stumbled and fell to his knees, but after a second started to climb back to his feet. He didn’t wait for his opponent to get all the way standing, he rushed over and leapt at the man and tackled him. He pulled the knife out of the man’s back and rolled him over.  He saw the fear in his eyes, but beyond that he could see the same hate he felt.  Did this man really hate him, or was he being driven to fight as well?

He tried to force pity out of himself, tried to show this man mercy, tried to stop hurting him.  It was no use, it was as if his body was making decisions for him, and ignoring his brain shouting “STOP!”

He sat on the man’s stomach and starting driving his fists into his face over and over, and blood began to spatter on his clothes and arms. The man went limp.  He stopped beating him and looked into the crowd. They were on the verge of a frenzy.  Screams and cheers and the seemingly endless chanting.

“Kill him, Kill him, Kill him, Kill him”.

So, following the urgings of their cheers he drove the knife into his throat, killing him.

He woke up with a start. He was shaking, and crying. He had no blood on him, but he still could feel the man dying under him, he could still hear the gurgling as his last breathe mingled with the blood in his throat.

“What the hell just happened?”

She tossed, and then turned. Fluffed her pillow and then smashed it. Opened the window to get a cool breeze, and then snuggled into the warmth of the sheets.

Comfort eluded her, and though she chased sleep, she couldn’t catch it.

In the dark room she stared at the ceiling and tried to make images out of the shadows from the moonlight coming in through the windows.

“Why can’t I sleep, I am so tired”, she thought wearily. “Is he waiting for me in my dream? Does he know I am not there?” She chided herself softly, “Of course not. He can’t be there unless I am, it’s my dream after all.”

In the warm sunlight, waves crashing on the beach and salt air invading his nostrils, he sat comfortably on his beach towel.

This was the place he had found himself in every dream for weeks now, except this time she wasn’t there, and the anxiety that had filled his waking thoughts was replaced with confusion.

The sun shone brightly, and the wind blew softly across his face as he stared out at the ocean, thinking of nothing, and everything.

“You seem a million miles away.”

He turned and, like clockwork, she was there. Sharing his beach towel, staring at him. She was beautiful and unassuming, with a gentle look on her face. She seemed genuinely concerned about him, and he felt at ease with her.

“I’m not sure where I am right now.” He answered.

“We’re together, so does it matter?” She quipped.

She leaned in ever so slightly. Just enough to let him know that her lips waited for him, but not so much to force the issue.

He leaned towards her, and they kissed. Passion overtook him, and where he was, and who he was with no longer mattered. Their kiss seemed to go on for an eternity, but he knew it was coming. It always did.

He woke up.

The same woman in a dream that occurred almost nightly now. She seemed so familiar but he knew that they had never met.

He longed to know this woman.

He felt refreshed, and not at all groggy. It was odd how his dreams seemed so active the last few weeks, but he never felt tired when he woke up.  In fact, he had cut out coffee from his morning routine all together.  However, he still met his friend every morning for breakfast, and today he decided he needed to talk to him about these dreams.

“So, you’re having this dream every night?”

He looked up at his friend, his confidant, the only one he could share this with.

“Yeah, and I know she is real. I am not sure how, but I know it. I also think that I know her, or at least I am supposed to.”

“Maybe you just need to change your diet, I’ve read that too much red meat can give you weird dreams.”

“These aren’t abstract dreams caused by too much red meat, be serious” He started to get up from the table, and tossed a five dollar bill down for the tip. He knew he had to find this woman, but how? It wasn’t like he could look her up in the phone book.

“I have to find her. I have to know what these dreams mean.”

His friend wiped his mouth clean and looked up, realizing how serious he was taking this. “OK. How do we do that?”

“I’m not sure, but somewhere there is an answer to all this.”