Ending The Dream

Chapter one

My hand slammed down on my pink alarm clock that illuminated the number 6:54 am. My clock was set four minutes ahead so I could lazily wake-up. Throwing my comforter off my lap, small snippets of last nights dream ran through my head.

The warmth of his touch, the flicker of those eyes. I don't know how he always crept into my dreams. Whether I wanted him to or not. The dream was bizarre, but it was clear what I remembered. He wanted me, just as badly as I wanted him.

I groaned pulling  my fuzzy baby blue robe over myself and tied it. I hated dreaming about him. If I didn't, I felt releived but also uneasy. I didn't understand why I constantly dreamt of him, just that dreams of him were signinficant.

Slowly I dragged my tired body to the kitchen to pour my mug of three qaurters coffee and one qaurter creamer of morning bliss. I sat at the table sipping my mug and re-ran the dream through my head. I tried grasping all the details I could for later. We seemed to be in a hurry, running from something. But what I held onto was the feeling of him. They were deeply imprinted. Whenever he kissed me it was hard to tell whether or not it was real. His hand brushed against my cheek and he had leaned foward, just barely putting his lips to mine.

I sighed checking the clock and and got up to rinse out my cup. I made my way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. My younger sister was just finishing up as I came in. She left and the soft purple of the walls enclosed around me. I decorated the bathroom to my liking and adored it. With the purple walls I had two white shelves holding small bottles of lotions, bath gels, bath beads, and candles.

Concentrating on making the blush on my cheeks even, I thought of him. I hated that I thought of him everyday and everynight. I wasn't obssesed, I just couldn't control my dreams. Even now, I thought of him by hating thinking of him. I smiled at that thought. I felt crazy sometimes, but I knew it was just the universe sending me signals at the wrong time.

My sister had gone and come back for a quick touch up. At 7:15 in the morning she was ready to leave. I however woke up as late as possible and was still capable of getting ready within a  half-hour of leaving for school. I looked at her and sighed. When will this child ever learn style? I mean I knew she was popular, but... how?

"What?" She asked irritably.

"Melonie, how many times have I told you, Print and print look tacky! Can't you change your skirt?" I pleaded knowing what was coming next. It happened at least every morning.

"And how many times have I told you that I am my own person who is fully capable of dressing myself. Anyways, I think it's cute." Melonie said all this while putting a little too much lip-gloss on. I swear for a fifth grader, she damn well knows how to hold an argument. Except with my mother, which of whom she doesn't always ge along with. It's only because she's an exact copy of her.

I walked out of the bathroom finished and shaking my head, "Whatever."

I slid my closet door open contemplating what to wear. Today was Tuesday, game day. I grabbed the dress I had semi made and slid myself into it, zipping it up. I think it looked vintage; light blue with floral patters all over. Being January I paired it with tights, flats, and a boho type belt around the waist. It looked good.

Just like that I checked the mirror and instantly wondered if he would like it, or even notice that I had a basketball game today. I ran my hand through my dark brown thick hair. It hung right above my waist and my side bangs complemented my face. Having Puertorican in me had it's advantages. Such as never sunburning and being slightly tan all winter. I was mostly "American" or Caucasion. People questioned my ethnicity, but I never minded explaining my mother's husband was not my real father.

I leaned into my mirror which was as well my closet door. I touched my slightley parted lips, admiring the deep rosy color. Again I questioned what he thought of my lips. Noticing the clock I quickly grabbed my cell and slid it into my dress pocket (an advantage of knowing how to sew) and grabbed my jacket as well as my sports bag.

"Cute." my mohter nodded as I made my way to the front door. "Where's your game today?"

"Uhhhhh, good question. I don't remember. But I'm guessing far considering we're getting realesed from school at two."

My mother nodded. We lived in a small town. One elementry, one middle, two highschools. One was public one was private. So we played against other small high schools.

"Are you giving Melonie a ride to school?"

"Nah, it's unusally warm out. I'm gonna walk." I could walk to school faster than she could even pull out of the driveway. Needless to say, she was slow and my school was really close to our house.

I walked out the door and felt the crisp cold air hit my face, flushing my cheeks. I studied the sky tinged with pink and orange as I began to ponder of my recent dream.