This node is dedicated to "Courtney," she inspired and asked for it.
"Stop!" She interrupted me.
"Do not think about her," she said.
I turned to the speaker. Why do I seem to keep finding myself talking to you lately?
"You started it." I was smiling, or half smiling anyway. "But seriously, you think it's bad to not try to forget?" The use of "but seriously" had no effect whatsoever on my facial expression. It barely meant anything really.
"Butterflies, termites and spaceships. You need to think about other things."
"Uh?" I didn't understand. Social butterflies? "On that note, you want a boyfriend, don't you?"
"No." The answer was unhesitating, almost defensive. There was a moment of silence before Courtney spoke again. This time her tone was more uncertain, her face looked not quite longingly but searchingly. "Well, I don't know. I do and I don't. I don't want commitment ...but I want someone to cuddle up to. That's a guy. And doesn't just want to get into my pants."
Again, why was someone talking to me of all people about this? Do I look like some kind of expert or something?
"I'm pretty sure that's pretty normal to want." And yeah, thanks, I didn't need to be reminded of that fact. "And sorry, I think boyfriend was the wrong term to use there." I wasn't quite sure what the right term would be though.
"But then, I like being alone with my own thoughts most of the time." She was sounding familiar. "Well, he doesn't want her. And I don't want him."
"She doesn't want him." I decided to add my own two cents for extra confusion and good measure.
"She just wants physical affection?"
"Wait, didn't you just tell me to stop thinking about her? At least, I presume we're talking about the same "her" here."
It was quarter past one now.
"Are you going to sleep, or did I knock you?" Knock? This conversation was getting slightly hard to follow. Granted, I went to sleep about an hour ago and may or may not have actually been having it. "Because I didn't mean to."
[01:24:24] You have gone idle.
[01:24:37] Courtney has signed off.
...Why was that not a dream?