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Haunt My Dreams

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Sometimes, I have this dream that seems so real at the time, but after the first rays of the sun hit my face, the dream seems so convoluted and unreal – but the people seem to be staring, glaring at my hopeless gullibility, because I'm in high school already, boarding school at that, and I'll never see her or him or anyone again. They’ve all gone to a local public high school, one I would have gone too…

…if not for that day in class where I heard her muttering about applying to a private school. I know of the competition between me and her; two high achieving girls with ambitions as wide as the sun, and I think that prep school is the next level of the tournament. Whoever is the smartest, whoever is the most desirable, will get the most acceptances.

I decide to apply.

I’d thought I’d get over this feeling by now. He already had found his light in my rival – a girl with buttery blonde hair. She always walked with a stiff posture, her skirts swishing primly and her collared shirts always crisp.

They had a squabble to the falling of desolate snowflakes on a lonely gray day.

Afterwards, he went through a messy rebound with her best friend. She was a girl whose flaming red locks and bright smile were a far cry from buttery tresses and contemplating brown eyes.

And then, somehow, I got dragged into it, a girl with puffy dark hair and glasses that were always crooked on my slight nose. Suddenly, I let my guard down, and started quiping in a quirky way I know he would empathize with – the thoughts I kept ensnared in a cage I finally let out, letting them fly out of my mind with colorful feathers.

But at the same time, I was accepted to a prep school.

It was monumental. The thought of leaving this accursed town behind had crossed my mind before. But, I had never once thought of leaving my home so early; it seemed too soon. Was I ready to fly away, like my liberated thoughts?

My dream was vividly unsettling. I was somehow at prep school, and I had to tell all my teachers that I was going to be absent from school next week. I went into a classroom, and found a teacher talking about current events to him and her, and why were they in my school and I thought I left my demons behind when I wore that hideous gaudy fuchsia dress during Graduation. My middle school yearbook laid untouched, carelessly tossed onto my dresser. He and she faded into obscure contacts stored in my email; the various chats I had with her shelved into the far corners of my inbox, the scant emails I had with him scattered even further. I changed my email address. There would be no more daydreams of him contacting me to talk, for I had already snapped off all my ties to him…

…but he was staring at me in the dream and I think I was blushing, but no one was supposed to know, no one could know of my feelings! – and I immediately put up a nonchalant façade. There was a reason no one knew of my infatuation.

My thoughts may have been liberated, but not my emotions.

I remember him writing in my yearbook, “Maybe you’ll see me next year…”

I doubt he remembers an offhand promise to a girl he barely knows. But I do. The question at the tip of my tongue now is, “Did you apply to this school?”

“Will you get in?”

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