Highschool and death

Sometimes I have dreams about being back in highschool. Or dreams with my highschool friends and me hanging out at some random place. When I was that age, I really hated waking up early. My mother probably wanted to kill me because every morning I complained about the time. I complained about being nauseas (which I was every. single. morning). My dad would sing as soon as he woke up, and I would complain about that too. I was (and sometimes still am) a strait up bitch if I have to get up before 10am. While in school, I couldn't wait for the bell to ring, announcing that our day was finally done. I lived for AP English, Honors Biology, lunch, free period, and art class. I was definitely in a clique. Our entire highschool was one big clique. Jocks, Skaters, Druggies, and Nerds. I'm sure it's not hard to guess what clique I was in. The Nerds were the smallest group, composed of the 12 or so students in the National Honors Society and a few stragglers. We all sat at the same lunch table, and I loved that connection with people that you see on a daily basis. I think this is what I miss the most and why I have dreams about it. I mean, I have friends here who I see a lot, and we definitely have a special connection, but I miss that daily interaction. I miss the feeling of belonging to a group. In college, it was very awkward because I was seen as an outcast. I wasn't used to that. I tried to be in a group, but I was often pushed out. Not in an obvious way, but subtly. This is also a huge reason why I want to get a real job in a social environment. I crave cliques.

I only had one higschool dream that was pretty upsetting. Chris was in it. He was a friend of mine that I had a huge crush on. We would argue about who was the better superhero: Batman or Superman? We'd steal each other's Pez dispensers. Sometimes we'd sit in art class together and watch Invader Zim. I remember his eyes so vividly. I never saw anything so blue in my life. A strand of his messy black hair often hung in his face, and I'd secretly swoon. I heard in my third year of college that he was hit by a car walking home from work. They said his body was dragged for a while before it finally killed him. People always say "I couldn't believe it!" when something shocking happens, but I never fully understood the statement until that moment. I sat in front of my computer screen, looking at the instant message I just received. I blinked. All I could type back was "oh my god." That night, after it finally semi-sunk in, I called my mom and told her. She didn't really remember who he was, so she looked in my year book. "Oh my god" she said. Her best friend Betty Anne was over, and she told her too. Who knew Betty would also die in a matter of months? I had a dream after she died too. More vivid than the Chris one I had. My dream with Chris was so real, though. I was laying on my side in my bed, staring at my closet when the doors opened. He walked out and kneeled in front of me, reaching his hand out for mine. We intertwined fingers and he said "Thank you, I love you." He pulled his hand back and smiled at me. Then he walked back into the closet, and sort of walked up invisible stairs into the ceiling, vanishing in a green mist. I immediately woke up and touched my hand. It was cold, but the rest of me was sweating. I just layed there and cried until I fell asleep. For a few nights after that, I wished to myself that I would see him again in my dreams. Even though I know it probably wasn't really him, I just wanted to actually talk back this time. I still kick myself for never telling him how I truly felt. So now, when I like someone, I just tell them.