Old school
When we finally left the building another girl was outside, waiting. I remember thinking, What have I got to be afraid of? and taking her arm as I exited. She was young, thin, with short blond hair that she wore up and back in black cloth. Her dress I noticed was also in black and white, consisting of a thin blouse with no sleeves (white) and a pair of black leggings that went only to her knees. Over this she wore a sort of thin black sweater.
It was cloudy out, and gray. We passed a man on our way to my house, she and I engaged in a delightful conversation that meant absolutely nothing, but was comforting nevertheless. Her unconcerned laughter kept reminding me of her. Her face was small and pretty, and wore that same look that she would wear when gazing up at me in ephemeral adoration. The man I think was President Clinton.
At my house I asked her to make us some tea. The sun suddenly broke through and I found it was still midmorning, whereupon I awoke.
I can't stand tea.
Dreams
I was with some girl whose proximity I took great delight in, but whom I could never really have. We'd found an old and abandoned industrial warehouse/factory/thing, where, inside, we discovered the remains of classrooms. Classrooms and schools, it appears, had not been in use anywhere for decades. There were at least four of us, I don't know who. We danced in the huge college auditorium that later probably doubled as a pretentious corporate library-lounge. Whatever. We played at writing wisdom on the blackboard, to impress one another, you see, and took to retrieving moldering books from the shelves and reciting verse and quotations from memory, since no one really knew how to read anymore. I eventually fell to flirting with the girl full time, otherwise bored.