I hardly ever remember my dreams, but I remembered another one today. I woke up at ten o'clock to my boyfriend's soft, gentle fingers running through my hair, apparently trying to console me.

It wasn't a nightmare. But then again, it wasn't a good dream either, not as good of a dream as my last dream about practically killing my roommate. I remember that for some reason I was out on a date with a blonde guy. He looked like Brian, a man that I used to work with. No, not on a date, I was "with" this guy, and we were just hanging out. He looked like Brian, but I felt for him like I do for my present boyfriend, and other than the "fact" that in the dream he had worked with me, he acted like my present boyfriend. But I was still 18, and yet we were in my old house in Kalamazoo, Michigan, which I haven't seen in years and haven't lived in for perhaps five years. Then my ex of 2 years, Tony, called me. He wanted to take me on his jet to Chicago for the evening, take me to dinner and a show. It would only take fifty five minutes (odd what details you remember in a dream, isn't it?). So I was going to go, but then this guy Mike York who I met in an Applebee's and who flirted with me for weeks before we met at a bar somewhere apparently called me or came over or something. We all three went down the street to what was my elementary school, but somehow while we were in it it was a jazz bar, dark and mellow. Then we were outside, playing on the swing set. I remembered: Tony! I don't even understand why I wanted to go with him, seeing how it would in reality be incredibly awkward. But it was a dream, and who knows what logic applies in dreams?

   So, I start walking home with this Brian/Brett creature and Mr. York, and we're laughing and having a good time. I'd had the equivalent of 3 shots of something, and was having fun, until they started singing this song. Apparently, at work, which is Commercial Federal Bank back in Omaha, my co-workers had been making fun of me while I was on a leave of absence, calling me a slut and what-not, including making up this song. It was even included in the minutes for the last meeting, and in the departmental newspaper. I got really upset and started crying and went to run into the house. My parents were sitting on the porch. My mom, scoldingly, asked me what was wrong. I told her because she usually asks lovingly and I thought she would be understanding. But she wasn't. "I haven't heard such rumors. Where do these rumors come from? Where!? You're a slut, Meredith, and you'll always be a slut! Show me the proof of this; I'll bet they're just singing it because you fucked them both. You probably deserve it."

Needless to say, that made me cry more. Cry so hard I was screaming through the sobs and the gasps of breath. Then I remembered Tony again. I called him, and he was not too upset. So he came with his jet to the back of the house and I started to get up into it. But I'm still somewhat afraid of Tony. So I must've been wimpering, because that's when Brett, in reality, started to caress my face, neck and head with his fingers, running them through my hair. I wake up and look at him.

The worse part... Later in the morning, while we were getting ready to go and eat, Brett looks at me and I see Tony. Just for a split-second. It's amazing, because they look nothing alike, not even ethnically. (Brett is an American with direct German ancestory, whereas Tony is pure-blooded Sicilian.) I hope that never happens again, the dream or the trick of the eye.