Rain

Usually after I woke up I can't remember any of my dreams, but this one I remember very clearly.

I was sitting on a street that went out both ways, straight ahead and behind me and left and right. It was like a plain that disappeared at a certain point because of the rain and fog. Unprotected I sat there, with the rain slowly washing me away. Out of the rain and fog came Angie in a red dress. It was like the dress didn't know it was raining. It floated away from her body like waves. Her hair did the same thing. After staring at her for a while I tried to get up to join her, but I couldn't. It was like the pressure of the rain was keeping me down, but some how she knew how to fight against it.

My eyes are wide open as I stare out the window. Something I haven't thought to do until Angie. She said that very morning she finds time to sit and look out the window for some inspiration. Doing this makes me think of her. I can see us in my side yard, sitting and talking. I can't hear what were talking about, but we seem quite caught up in each other.

. . .

The hall way is silent and empty as if it were Saturday. I sat cross legged at my bottom locker. I wasn't planning on going to English. Well, my body wasn't planning to. My head and my body work differently then most people. My body controlled my head. I guess it's because my mind is blank and my body got use to it. One day it decided to take over, so here I am, on the floor. I couldn't explain it like that when Angie walked by though.

"Lance? Are you okay?" she asked. I looked to my left and saw her. Stunned that it was this easy to find her I just said,

"Why are you out of class?" She only stared at me with a puzzled exasperation on her face.

"Why are you asking me that ? You're the one that's just sitting here."

I apologized and turned my attention back to my locker. I thought she had left from the silence that played once again in the hall, but at last she spoke,

"Do you want to come over after school?" she asked with hesitation in her voice.

"We hardly know each other." I stated, still looking at my locker. More silence.

"I just thought that you would want to see the paintings I described to you."

I turned around to face her.

"Where's your house?"

. . .

I looked around Angie's room while she was talking to her mother. It was completely different from my room. The walls were a dark purple, which is way better then lavender. The room was a small square. There were two windows, each on different walls. The window in front of me views the backyard, which has tons of different flowers in neat rows. The window to my right views the side yard and the road. Her bed is a darker shade of purple then her walls. Its sideways against the wall, so that she could see out into the street at night. That must be creepy.
On the wall across from the bed is a desk that almost takes up the whole wall. You could tell it was old, for it was dull and peeling. The desk was a mess, papers were scrambled about, there were pens with no caps, tape rolls with no tape, and books underneath it.
Across from the backyard was a walk in closet with a sliding door.

Angie came in and apologized for the mess. I nodded my head. She walked past me to the center of the room. There she stood talking about something. I didn't know. I wasn't paying attention to that. Everything black out expect for her. The way her eyes moved frantically from left to right, her hand motions that involved her whole body, and her rapid mouth. This experience lasted for a second.

"I told my mom you were here to do homework." she exclaimed.

"I don't have any." I told her. She smiled