DREAMING
By: VirginiaR.
Description: Set in college, a romance comedy involving revealing one’s dreams.
Rated: PG
Author’s Note: This story was written in the 1990s, while I was in college. I tried to convert it to an L&C story and, well, it didn’t work. What I ended up with was Once Upon A Dream, which is actually a very different story, with chucks of this story in it.
***
How was it possible to for this man to look any more attractive? In loose jeans and a old t-shirt he had stolen Dana’s heart and with this — oh, it had to be Armani — custom fitted tuxedo, Ric had captured the rest of her as well. His black curls were still damp from an afternoon pre-event shower. With the warm California sun drying them, he waited, staring at her with those sultry brown eyes, which she had fallen in love with first. He smelled clean, unscented.
Time felt funny. Was it not two seconds ago that it had been last week and he had suggested they go to the awards together? Yet now he stood before her, hand outstretched, smile on his lips, beckoning her to join him in the limo. And they sat at a table, eating something delicious at Spargos and the awards were over. Had he won? Had she? Who had been up for the Oscar anyway?
None of that mattered, because he loved her. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way his thumb ran over the back of her hand. He smiled and glided his cheek down hers, suggesting with a kiss that they go somewhere more private. They were on the dance floor surrounded by people, yet alone. Their bodies touched from face to thigh, through the thin layers of their expensive, borrowed clothing. Ric held her close. The clean scent had been replaced with something saltier, more natural, sweaty. No one had ever smelled so good.
A flash of light. Someone was taking their picture. Ric moved closer, running his fingers over her shoulder-length unstyled blond hair. He kissed her lips, this time.
They sat in bed. Not making love. Not about to nor having just finished, either. Just talking. Laughing. Fully clothed in varying amounts of pajamas. He had flannel bottoms and she wore silky satin boxers and top. The morning sun filtered through the blinds, the awards weeks away – or had they already happened? He pulled her closer to him and kissed the nape of her neck, the most pleasure-filled of places to touch her. She suddenly felt every nerve in her body scream out for more of him. Let him caress her leg with his. Let him run his fingertips down her spine. Let him pull the covers above their head and plunge them into darkness. Let him touch her anywhere and everywhere. Please!
But instead of getting darker, it became brighter — like someone had taken their picture again and the flash had remained on.
Dana blinked her eyes only to feel the cold of the morning air and watch the breeze flap her blinds open with a blinding stream of sunlight.
NO! Her mind screamed and she buried herself under the covers again. NO!
Don’t wake up just yet. This had been the nicest of dreams. And he was about to touch her. REALLY touch her this time. For a moment, her mind and body drifted back into slumber and she could feel him holding her again tighter, afraid she might leave. But only for a moment.
This time it was worse. That high pitched beeping noise woke her. She had forgotten to switch it to radio. Her hand reached into the chilly outer realm and slammed down on the alarm clock.
It took Dana a while longer to fall asleep this time. She thought of how he looked waiting for her by the limo. Of him gazing at her across the table at Spargo’s. And that’s where she caught up with him.
They were dancing again. Only to have a fire alarm go off. They had to run down a long corridor with a crowd. Had it been a bomb? A gunman? Aliens? No, a gigantic green jello-like fist came from behind and grabbed her, retracting back into the dancehall. Ric fought the crowd to go after her, but there were too many people. She could hear him yelling for her, muffled with the echoed sounds of chaos. Suddenly, the green fist held her in front of its face. A Jello-like Godzilla.
GODZILLA? What in the hell was he doing in this dream?
Dana shook her head and shifted position in bed.
They had returned to the dance floor. Her dress had changed from red to green... Godzilla green... but that’s all of him that remained. Everything else was in black and white. Ric held her with more passion, more fear and kept glancing over his shoulder, looking out for someone trying to steal his lady love again. She felt a tap on her shoulder. Gene Kelly. Oh, to dance with Gene Kelly. She glanced at Ric to ask his permission — for just this one dance, but Grace Kelly was already tugging on his arm.
Dana took a stronger grip on Ric’s hand. Repeatedly, they were being separated. She knew if they let go, they would never be able to go back. Yet, Gene still pulled on her arm and Grace on his. No! They both shouted. You won’t win! But the stars of yesteryear were stronger and were able to pull them apart, the crowd flowing between them like cake batter.
That’s when her alarm screamed for a second time. Dana pulled down the covers and turned off the noise, before wiping the tears from her eyes. Why couldn’t she have gone back to the first dream; it had been so much more pleasant.
Tears, still damp on her cheeks, she saw the clock. [i]Crap! She was going to be late for her first Creative Writing Class. Jumping out of bed, she ran for the shower.
***
Dana crept through the door, the last of the last for Professor Blanton’s course. He had already started talking about their syllabus for the semester, complaining that there were far too many wannabe writers in the class. He promised to weed out the undedicated within the first weeks. Every class, they would be expected to turn in an assignment and he didn’t accept bulls***.
Most of the chairs filled, she slid into one in the back row. Just three over and one back from Reece, roommate from last year, who tipped her head to five rows in front of her. Ric. Dana smiled at her friend and swallowed as she allowed a second, not so casual, gaze to glide over the man from her dreams.
Dana hadn’t seen Ric since right after Thanksgiving break, when they had gotten into an argument over nothing. Seen, technically, wasn’t the correct word. As she had observed him at the cafeteria, on stage in the winter production, walking along Main Path, through his dorm room window. But they hadn’t spoken, really, since early December. And the argument had been about something, but she hadn’t told Ric just what.
Frustrated after months of unrequited love of her self-proclaimed best friend, Dana blown up over something little — about what she couldn’t remember. She had informed him that if he was going to keep acting in a certain way, she never wanted to have anything more to do with him. Ric had tried to make up with her — claiming he didn’t want to lose her as a friend. But she couldn’t stand having him so near, yet not close enough to touch. All she could think about was him and it was interrupting her studies.
Dana told him to his face that she didn’t want him for a friend. Ric just hadn’t understood that she had wanted him for more than one. The last time she had seen him, right before winter break, she had been standing at her dorm room window and he had waved at her from down below. He hadn’t dared to come up. God, how she missed him.
An hour had passed. Dana curled her sweaty palms and realized that she heard almost nothing of Professor Blanton’s lecture. She gazed away from Ric’s black curls to Blanton’s slightly weathered, but not old, bespectacled stereotypical English Professor’s face in time to hear him announce that the first writing assignment. A three page double spaced report on what they did over Winter Break. It was due in his office by noon the next day. A loud groan emerged from the class.
“How boring,” Dana heard her neighbor murmur.
But Blanton’s face lit with a smile at this reaction. “If you can’t make Winter Break interesting enough to read about, consider dropping the class. Let me know by class Wednesday.”
Dana slowly moved downstream to Professor Blanton’s podium through the upstream rush. He was packing up papers into his tan briefcase.
“Professor Blanton?” Dana whispered, hardly above the din of exiting students. She had to repeat herself a little louder when he didn’t look up.
“Yes?”
“I didn’t get a copy of the syllabus,” she said.
He nodded with his head. “On the podium.”
She held the syllabus in her hand, fiddling with the staple, but not looking at it — figuring out how to voice her dilemma to her professor. “Mr. Blanton?”
“Yes, Miss....?”
“Dana Price,” she murmured, glancing up from her toes, for a moment.
“Ah, yes, my tardy, distracted student. Glad to put a name with your face.” When she blushed and took a step back at his remark, but did not reply, he continued, “Was there something I could help you with?”
“About the essay, I... I...” she stammered.
“Come now, don’t tell me you didn’t do anything over break. Everyone did something, even it is was watch TV or decorate a Christmas Tree. You can’t expect me to believe that you spent all of your break asleep in bed.”
Her face went pale as she nodded. “I caught the flu, sir. I was in bed for over two weeks.”
“Ah, well, Dana. Let me let you in on a little secret. This is a creative writing course. One is allowed to elaborate and embellish, otherwise it would be no fun. I’m sure, even you, could turn two weeks of the flu into a three page paper. Play around with it. Try it from different angles. You’ll be amazed what you can come up with.” Professor Blanton patted her shoulder and turned back to his table.
“Dana.”
She turned so quickly at the sound of his voice that her hair fell over her face and she could only see him through strands of blonde. “Ric,” she cracked as she brushed aside the hair to see him clearly.
“Hi.” He smiled at her in that way he had, which always seemed to melt her kneecaps.
“Hi.”
“I had forgotten that we had signed up for this course together at the end of last year. I’m thinking about dropping it, though.”
“Oh,” she tried not to let the disappointment seep into her tone.
“It sounds like a lot of writing.”
“Yeah, a crash course.” She winced at her own description.
“Right.” He nodded, taking a step backwards towards the exit and pointing in the same direction. “I’ve got another class. Talk to you later?”
“Ah...” She sought for the perfect nonchalant answer. “Whatever.” That wasn’t it, she realized, when his smile faded.
“Got to go. Bye,” Ric replied and bolted up the stairs.
Dana shook her head with a sigh. If she wanted him to hate her, she was doing a pretty good job. Perhaps, this would keep him away from her and she’d be able to forget about this stupid infatuation. She opened her notebook and placed her syllabus inside as she started up the stairs.
“Miss Price?”
Dana turned to look at Professor Blanton.
“Hope you’re finally over that bug and are feeling better.”
A smile crept to Dana’s face as she pictured Ric as a bug. “Thanks. But I’ve felt better.”
***
Wednesday morning, Dana arrived to class early, hoping to hear Professor Blanton’s personal remarks on her essay. She dropped her books by a chair in the middle of the room and stood at the podium waiting for him to appear as other students filed into the room behind her. Through a door against the front wall next the chalkboard, Professor Blanton entered accompanied by Ric. Dana took a step back as her obsession passed by her and up the stairs without even a nod. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
Blanton smiled at her as he opened his briefcase on the front table.
“Dana, I’m glad you’re here early. I found your essay quite unique and would like you to read it to the class.”
Winded from this blow, Dana stumbled backwards before turning and glancing at the expectant faces. She didn’t see Ric. He probably had stopped by to have Blanton sign the course drop form and had already left. She allowed herself to breathe again. “I’d rather not,” she was able to stutter out.
“As I can well imagine. But part of being a writer is having the public,” he said, gesturing to the class. “...react to what you have written and not just me.”
“But Professor...”
“Words are not a wall to hide behind, Miss Price. Come forward.” Professor Blanton held out her paper.
Grabbing it out of his hand, Dana quickly flipped to the back page. A-plus. She could live with that. She let out her breath as she headed for her seat.
“Dana, that grade is dependent upon you reading your essay for the class.”
“That’s not fair!” she blurted out.
“Life’s not fair. I want the class to hear what a good essay sounds like. By reading yours, it will make them forgive you a little for their grades.”
“I doubt that,” she murmured, returning the podium. She cut him a side glare. “I’ll never forgive you for humiliating me like this.”
“I’m sure you will in time.” Blanton motioned for her to begin.
Dana took a deep breath and gazed over the faces of those before her. Reece. Jim. Susan. Dave. Tom. Sadie. Marty. Marie. And countless others she didn’t know, but who would soon know her very well. She glanced down at her paper again and was about to begin when she saw him out of the corner of her eye. Ric. Standing at the back of the room by the door. He hadn’t left.
“No, I can’t.” Dana propelled herself to the side of the room.
Professor Blanton maneuvered her back to the podium.
She still faced away from the class. “I can’t,” she whispered to her Professor. “He’s here.”
“Is he now?” Blanton replied innocently.
“I can’t read this in front of him.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll know,” she confided.
“And that’s worse than him not knowing?”
Dana nodded.
“How?”
“Because...” she exclaimed before lowering her voice again. “He’ll know.”
Professor Blanton turned her around to face the class again and whispered, “At least, he’ll know that you don’t hate him. Read.”
Dana swallowed and spoke the title. “Dreaming. By Dana Price.” Her voice cracked a little as she took a quick glance at the class. Seeing them made her heart beat faster, so she focused her eyes on her paper again.
“Lying in bed. Nothing to do. No energy. No hunger. No desire to read or watch TV. Only thoughts to keep me company. Thoughts of...” Ric’s name was clearly printed on the page, instead she spoke the pronoun. “Him. I’m not lonely. I dream of things we could do, if he cared for me as I do for him.” Professor Blanton handed her a glass of water and she quickly downed half of it, coughing.
“When I sleep my imagination goes wild. We are part of a medieval fairy tale where he must capture a unicorn to win my freedom from a sorcerer. I dream of us attending the Oscars, but not caring if we won. Eating at Spargo’s with the most delicious moment being that he wants to dance cheek to cheek. Traveling to distant planets to watch the sunrise. He holds my hand and kisses more than my forehead.” Dana’s cheeks redden as she continues. “The line between nightmare and dream blur. I have nightmares of being chased by monsters and movie stars, whose only desire is to keep us apart. When I awake, I wonder which is worse, being attacked in a dream only where his only goal is to rescue me or not having him love me in real life?”
Dana took another breath as she flipped the page and dared to allow herself to glance up, but not at Ric. If she saw his face, she would not be able to continue. “I remember places we went together. Four showings of Rocky Horror Picture Show - each time in a different costume. Pete’s Pizza at just before closing. This frat party and that drama party. Trick or treating in old town. Stephen King’s Book Tour. The Roach Motel.” A brief smile appeared at the corner of mouth. “Main Path. The bookstore. Parker Library. The cafeteria.
“These memories give me both joy and sorrow. Joy at having the pleasure of...” She swallowed Ric’s name again. “His company. Sorrow at knowing he sees me only as a friend. I know that I’m the only one keeping us apart. I admit to being selfish and greedy. But I’m sick and tired of being just his best friend.
“I wonder what he might be up to during Winter Break. Is he skiing with the family? Or spending New Year’s in New York? Is he reading or sleeping or watching TV? Has he found someone to occupy his thoughts as he does mine? How would he look with a confetti of snow covering his dark curls? I picture him singing Christmas carols with friends at four in the morning outside some poor neighbor’s house with booze on his breath and his voice out of tune. It makes me wish I could join him. Having fun. Being silly. Being myself.
“I think of the lies I have told. That I never want to see him again. That I have a better way to spend my time than doing something with him. I had thought it would hurt less to be out of his company than to be his... quote.... best friend.... end quote.” Dana glanced up again this time at Reece. Her friend’s mouth hung open still with stunned amazement. One more page. She could do it.
“I don’t want to spend my days living in my dreams and thoughts. I want to experience life and love and happiness. Two weeks is a long time to spend with one’s own thoughts. A depressing time. I ended up wondering what I did wrong. What I could have done differently to make him like me. And the only answer I came up with was that I should have let Ric know.....” Dana stopped and looked at the his name on the page. She hadn’t put in the pronoun. She could hear the movement of everyone in their seats at her announcement and feel her cheeks burning. “...let him know how I felt... Would it feel worse or be more humiliating than standing in front of a class reading this essay?” A tear ran down her cheek as she refilled her lungs with air. “Of course, he’s the actor. He doesn’t get stage fright like his biggest fan. Maybe it would beat this torture I’m putting myself through. Because no matter how near or far we are, I can’t stop myself from dreaming.”
Dana set down the paper on the podium, but lacked the courage to gaze up into the crowd. Reece started the standing ovation, Dana could tell by her cheering. Several others students joined her.
“You call that introspective crap A-plus work?” one student complained.
Dana’s eyes lifted to the critic’s face. She didn’t recognize him.
“Derek, the composition of Dana’s paper may not have been up to Nobel standards, but it took a hell of lot more guts to write than your reprocessed football stats and everyone else’s What I did over Winter Break was...,” Professor Blanton responded. “Introspection into ones emotions, the courage to break the rules and ability to combine the two flawlessly are what differentiates a real writer from a wannabe. But,” he emphasized, “This does not mean that I want you all to reveal your deepest darkest secrets with everything you write this term.” The class let out a chuckle of relief. “Dana, you may now take your seat.”
Dana glanced up at the doorway as she started up the steps. Ric had left. Because she hadn’t looked up during her reading, she didn’t know when.
Reece, occupying the seat next to hers, read her thoughts. She leaned over after Dana sat down. “He left just after you finished.”
“Did he look upset?”
Reece raised her shoulders. “Didn’t see his face.”
Tucking her essay into her folder, Dana searched for that huge bolder she had been carrying on her chest because for some strange reason, she could breath much easier. If she had known it would feel this good to no longer worry about keeping her secret, she would have told him months ago. “It’s that first step of bungee jumping that’s the hardest,” someone once told her. She glanced over her shoulder to the door of the classroom and wondered if she would land with splat on the ground or bounce away with a new outlook on life.
***
Ric wasn’t in the hall when class let out. He had another class at that hour, so Dana didn’t search for him on the way back to dorm. She did notice several people from class pointing to her and whispering, an unpleasant feeling. But she had survived. The worst that could happen would be that she would be pitied as someone who had loved and lost. At least, she would know whether to move on with her life.
Ric was waiting for her outside her door.
“Hi,” she whispered.
He clamored to his feet. “We need to talk.”
Nodding, Dana let him inside. She dropped her books on her desk and took a seat on her bed.
Ric paced in front of her. He stopped and faced her. “First of all. I already knew.”
“What??” she sputtered.
“When I came to his office this morning with my drop class paperwork, Professor Blanton showed me your paper. He had seen us talking Monday after class and knew I was the same Ric. He figured it would be best for both of us, if I had seen the paper before he convinced you to read it before the class. And then he asked me to stay for moral support.”
“Moral support?” she scoffed.
“I agreed only because I knew how you felt about me before I read that paper.”
Tears started to creep down her cheeks. “You already knew?” She held up her hand as he started to speak. “I don’t think I want to hear it. Thank you very much. I know what you’re going to say. That you’re flattered and all that, but...”
“No.” He took her outstretched hand in his and sat down next to her. “After Thanksgiving Break, when you told me that you didn’t want to have anything more to do with a cretin like me... that’s when I knew.”
She wiped one of the tears away as a hint of a smile touched her lips. “Did I really call you a cretin?”
“That’s pretty blatant.” He chuckled. “That’s when I knew you liked me for more than a friend. And I was flattered.”
Dana covered her eyes with her hand.
“I wanted to talk to you about it then. But you didn’t want to have anything to do with me, remember?”
She nodded.
“Do you know that I saw you at all six evening performances of that God-awful play?”
Dana shook her head. “I tried to stay in the back. The worst seats.”
“It wasn’t difficult to find you in that empty theatre,” he said, coaxing a laugh from her.
“It was such a bad play.”
“Yes, it was.” Ric agreed. “Yet, you still came to all the evening performances. Clapped wildly at the end of all my scenes. I looked forward to the end of the scenes — along with everyone else, I expect — to listen for that applause. I sure missed you during the matinees.”
“I had work-study.”
“I know. But I missed you during movie nights... I went to one showing of Rocky Horror without you and I couldn’t last through the Time Warp. It just wasn’t the same.”
Dana looked at his face, only this time he was the one staring at his shoes.
“And eating dinner and making fun of the food. Reading magazines at the bookstore. Nothing was the same, Dana. Not Pete’s Pizza. Not frat parties. Hell, not even the Roach Motel.”
“You went back to the Roach Motel?”
Ric nodded. “I missed my buddy and you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“I needed more,” she murmured.
“You were ignoring me and giving me attention — like at that stupid play. I was so confused. I felt loved and stalked at the same time.”
“Sorry.”
“And I started to need more. Do you know where I was for New Year’s?”
She shook her head.
“A couple of buddies and me took the train to your house and sang Christmas carols outside your house at four in the morning.”
“No wonder I could picture you doing that.” She laughed.
“We were about to knock on your door, when the police nabbed us for disturbing the peace. By the next morning, when they let us out, I was sure you hated me. I’d messed up this tuxedo I had rented for my friend’s wedding. I didn’t have the guts to go back in the light of sun.”
“I don’t hate you, Ric.”
“You sure convinced me of it on Monday.”
“Sorry, I have always been a terrible actress. I was trying for indifference.”
He chuckled. “When I read your paper this morning, I felt salvation. My second chance. You don’t know how happy reading your essay made me.”
“Funny way of showing it. You walked right past me without even a nod of your head.”
“I can do indifference better than you,” he bragged.
Dana socked him lightly in the arm. “And you left before we had a chance to talk in class.”
“Unlike you, I didn’t want to announce our private business to the whole class.”
“That was Professor Blanton’s crazy idea.”
“Who knew the old fogy was such a romantic?”
Dana smiled as she gazed at him. Ric returned her smile, before wrapping his arms around her. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world.
“I’m glad we got that settled,” he whispered, his fingers running through her hair.
She pushed him back far enough to look into his eyes again. “What’s settled? I’ve poured my heart out for everyone to see and you still haven’t...”
Ric covered her words with a kiss. A long, soft, melt her kneecaps, curl her toes kiss. “Is that better?”
“Much,” Dana murmured, numbness tingling her whole body. Before she could catch her breath, he stole it again and again. When she finally got it back, she whispered, “Pinch me.”
“Kinky lady.”
“I must be dreaming.”
Ric tweaked her arm.
“Ouch!” she gasped, rubbing her bicep. “What did you do that for?”
“Sorry.” He kissed her arm with a grin. “I want you to know I’m real.”
“And better than any dream man,” she said, laughing before he melted all her nerve endings with another kiss.
*** The End ***
Disclaimer: The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a movie based on the stage play by Richard O’Brien.
