only in my dreams

what i’m about to tell you is not for the faint of heart. nevertheless, i dreamt it and you’re going to read it.

there was mentally handicapped guy. he seemed sort of albino, but not totally. just very pale and pretty old, too. he had green eyes. green like the emerald of emerald city. i wish i could draw a picture, because description doesn’t do this guy justice.

for some reason, don’t ask me why, i was sleeping over at his house. he stilled lived with his parents, even though he was in his 40s. i started to get the feeling that i was his only friend.

it seemed like his sibling(s) were having parties and enjoying their normal lives. they were coming and going, or mostly going. we weren’t really doing much of anything that i could remember.

it came time for bed and this presented a dilemma. there were no extra beds, so i ended up sleeping with this guy. but just sleeping, though. don’t get any funny ideas. this was so not one of those dreams.

i was trying to sleep, possibly dozing a bit, but not fully comfortable enough to let myself descend into the waiting arms of slumber. i have nothing against mentally handicapped people, but anything can happen. anything.

some time passed and i found myself just staring at the ceiling. the guy seemed to be sound asleep, but turning occasionally. every time he turned in my direction, i was showered with about a handful of marble cheddar shredded cheese. this scared me quite a bit.

when i looked around it seemed as though i was laying in the remnants of a bread and cheese feast. there were crumbs and shreddings everywhere. i was pretty disgusted.

i got up and as i did, i noticed the guy wasn’t wearing any pants. so not only was i sleeping in the aftermath of a feeding frenzy, i was also next to a half-naked man. it was beyond my ability to comprehend.

i said, “i gotta go.”

“why? what’s wrong?” he asked.

“oh, nothing. i just have to do some stuff.”

he opened the front door to let me out (magically wearing pants) and i noticed a tear in his eye.

“hey, no, don’t cry.” i said. “we’re still friends. we can hang out. i can’t do stuff with you every day, but, you know, once a week or a couple times a month would be alright.”

his dad or grandpa came randomly walking by and said, “that doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

the guy seemed happier and let me leave.

i hope i never go back there, in dreams or otherwise.