Can dreams come true?

I just woke up my delightful partner by talking in my sleep. I was in the middle of a dream.

Let me set the scene of my dream for you. It was the mid 80’s, and I was living in the suburb of Preston (northern suburbs of Melbourne).

The social landscape was changing in Preston, as for a significant number of years the population was significantly Greek and Italian immigrants, but recently there had been a significant number of boat people from China, Vietnam, Malaysia and a number of other Asian cultures coming to the area.

As a young Asian girl, who bore a remarkable resemblance to a young Yoko Ono, I was one of these recent refugees to the area. My parents were strict Catholic, and insisted that I went to the local Catholic school – Immaculate Heart – which catered specifically for the boys of migrants. I was, naturally, the only female student there, as the school was strictly boys only, but this wasn’t an area of concern at all.

I had fallen in love with a young girl from the local girls schools, Preston Girls Grammar, and naturally I wanted to marry her. Due to my parents strict ruling, and also due to her being a Capulet and I being a Montague, I had to keep my relationship secret.

I was encouraged, by a friend of mine OptyC from Uncyclopedia to write to Cleo a letter that was critical of their choice of models, given that the image that they portrayed of beautiful women was a body type that was held by only a small percentage of the population. He suggested this in jest, as he knew that the magazine was unlikely to read, let alone publish, such a letter, but I did it anyway, underneath my pseudonym of PuppyOnTheRadio, and ended the letter with a challenge to Cleo.

The letter was amazingly picked up by Cleo, and printed on the front page was “And surprisingly, an article based upon the letter by Puppy as suggested by OptyrC”. Even though I had written his name correctly, they did add the extra letter to it, which gave the name a different meaning when read backwards.

As I was at the Petrol Station on the South East corner of Bell Street and Plenty road (which doesn’t exist in reality), waiting in a long line with a bundle of people I knew through school, I saw this cover and could not resist picking up the magazine to have a look.

I was flicking through the magazine, trying to locate the article, when the second register of the store, which dealt with the newsagent side of the business, opened up. Suddenly from being at the back of the queue where I was going to have the luxury of reading through the magazine before I got to the front, suddenly I was at the front holding a magazine that I had no way of buying.

The guy behind the counter, who looked like a cross between the comic book guy from the Simpsons and Michael Moore, started to get aggressive and reminded me pointedly that I was not in a library. I decided to try and save face by telling him that due to his rudeness I was no longer going to buy from him, and illustrated his point about it not being a library by deliberately placing the magazine back in the wrong section as I stormed out.

As I was walking out I noticed that one of the locals, who looked like the model Fabio, and had a reputation of being a member if the Gestapo, had also been a witness to the exchange. Somehow he realised that I was about to enter a same sex marriage and was going to stop it by confronting my beloved, who happened to be waiting at the bus stop a block or so away.

I, trying to keep as calm and under the radar as possible, decided to try and head him off at the pass by being as nonchalant and drawing as little attention to myself as possible.

So there I was, riding down Bell street in Preston lying on my 6′ long skateboard with my identical twin lying on top of me, screaming at each other different bits of advice from Eastern philosophies, desperately trying to get ahead of the Gestapo guy before he got to my beloved and ruined my wedding day, and still trying to get back to school before the morning bell went.

I had just screamed “There is only one past, and there is not yet a future. The only time where there is infinite possibility is NOW” when my partner woke me due to me yelling in my sleep.

I really hope that dreams can’t come true.

I would hate to live in Preston.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s