The entire dream was a movie, and I was an actor in it. Although I was perfectly aware that I was only acting, I had become the character. There was no distinction between my feelings and the character's feelings, so everything was kind of...bigger than what it should be, like a movie.

Somebody threw me out of a window at one point. I knew it was going to happen, being scripted and all, but it still hurt a bit when I hit the pavement. My cheek, bleeding. My teeth, loose and on the ground in front of me. I went to the hospital.

Along the way we robbed a supermarket, clearing the shelves of pool noodles and nothing else. We used them to fight the angry store clerks and ran out laughing.

Suddenly I was in my kitchen, dancing with the guy I've been chasing hopelessly for the past six months of my life. No one was there, not even his girlfriend (for once). As we danced he grabbed my hands and we smiled into each others eyes like it was real. That song by The Cure, Painted on my Heart, was playing over the scene. A cheesy movie voice-over came on (my voice, of course - Wonder Years style). It said, in that vaguely nostalgic movie tone, that even if the scene wasn't real and I knew it, we were in love for that one split second and that's all that mattered. That moment felt like it would last forever.

And that's when I woke up. I closed my eyes, trying to return, but nothing came. All I could hear was that stupid song playing over and over in my head. Next time I hear it I think I will have to cry.