The Man in My Dreams – excerpt continues….

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3

My phone has been ringing since my eyes flew open, but this time, I’ve finally allowed Lisa Stansfield’s song, Change to snap me out of these thoughts that have started to depress me.

“Hey, girlie,” I said being grateful that my best friend could bring a smile to my face.

“Hey, you, are you up yet?”

“Yes, I just woke up.”

“Well, good, for you! Now, get your ass on the plane; I’m here all by myself, but really I don’t mind. You know it pays to know the right kind of people because this suite is fabulous!” Micah said, this being her first time in New York City for reasons that did not involve an audition. “You know what I don’t understand is, why you aren’t here yet? I can’t really have fun yet.”

“Micah, first of all, my flight isn’t for another three hours, so I cannot get on the plane, but I, umm,” I took a deep breath and said, “I, ah, I need to tell you something?”

“Ok, what’s wrong with you? What’s been wrong with you? You’ve been acting so strange lately, and now you do sound, I don’t know, out of breath…what’s up, ah, wrong? You know I worry about you!”

“I know and I’m glad you do, but I, umm, oh, God; I keep having dreams about a man, and I’m in love with him!” She doesn’t say a word, but she’s breathing hard into the phone. “He makes me feel,” I exhale; now, it’s my turn to breathe into the phone. “It’s like my world will end if he doesn’t love me back. He’s, he’s everything to me.”

“Wait, what? What did you just say? Carmen, how long have you dreamt about this man?”

“Oh, I don’t even know; it’s been at least a month or so.”

“Hold the hell on one second; you’ve been dreaming of a man for over a month. You love him, and you didn’t bother telling me? What the hell? I know we’re better than that! This is crazy!” Micah says becoming angry at me like I’m leaving her out on purpose.

“I, ah, I didn’t want to say anything because I thought after the first few they’d just go away.”

She says desperately, “Oh, my God, is he, is he, making love to you?” She stops talking all there is, is the sound of distance between us.

“Oh, God, yes, yes, he’s incredible. He makes me; I don’t even know the right words here to describe how he makes me feel.”

“Damn!”

“I can’t seem to get enough of him! He even sings to me, badly, but…”

Damn, do you know who he is?”

“No, I’ve never seen his face it’s all blurry. I see all of him, but…”

All of him? Damn,” is all Micah can say.

“I have had to change my sheets four times this week because of the sweat and; this is so embarrassing, the dreams they are so real. I mean, I can feel him and what he’s doing to me. The dreams are getting worse; they’re scaring me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, my,” she says sighing. “Well, for his sake I hope you never meet him. I could only imagine what you’d do to him if you did!”

“I know what you mean. I wish the dreams were real. I wish, I wish,” is all I kept saying, “I wish…” I said getting really pissed again.

“You better watch it you know dreams have a way of coming true,” Micah Jones said; she’s my very best friend, my light in my dark places. “I mean that happens only in a Disney movie of course, and the last I checked neither one of us lives in a Disney movie, but if he’s making love to you, this can only mean one thing.

“Micah, I don’t know about that; it’s just a dream—right?”

“I know, but…” she stops.

“But what?”

“Well, you know what they say, what Dr. Redman would say; that your dreams are just manifestations of what you really want. I mean why can’t it be possible?”

“Because they are just dreams, but I’d rather live in those dreams since everything is possible there with him.”

“Oh, I wish I could have that kind of dream.”

What?”

“I know I shouldn’t be jealous and more supportive, but I just…oh…I’m jealous,” Micah says.

“What?”

“Well, I mean,” she exhales, “I just, well, oh, never mind; if those dreams are anything like you say shouldn’t I be jealous?”

“Hell to the naw Bobby!” I say doing my best Whitney Houston impression. “They are dreams Micah you have a real man remember.”

“Yes, and I love Brad you know that.”

“Ok, then, please, you really need to stop; remember what you told me about how Brad makes your toes go? I should be the one who’s jealous! I can’t get a real man, a grown man.”

“Yes you can! You just don’t any man,” she being right and not now dreaming as I’ve been—any man just won’t do, “but I can’t believe you; only you would remember that about my toes.”

“Yes and shall I go on about those toes?” I say finally laughing myself to tears. I’ll never forget when we saw Boomerang, Micah leaned over to me and said, ‘that’s what I want in my husband; his ability to make my toes do that,’ referring to Eddie Murphy’s character, Marcus, and what his toes do after he finally gets Robin Givens character, Jacqueline, in bed; and this was before I ever really knew Micah was even seeing Brad or had any desires of being married. I say, “Marcus daaarrrrllllliiiinnnngggg!”

“I hate you! Now, I want to watch that movie; you think the concierge can get it for me? I doubt it’s on any of these movie channels in here? I need help with this,” Micah says now completely lost in Boomerang.

“You need help that part is true anyway…” she cuts me off.

“Anyway is right! Now, get out of that bed and get to the airport. Your dream man is going to have to wait, but my wedding dress will not,” I laugh at her and her own dream man; I think about Micah and Brad they are like fire and ice. I don’t even know when she had time to meet him; I’ll have to ask her about that because I don’t remember her telling me how or when they even met.

“I will, but I have to go for a run. I need to clear my head, regain some type of control. I’ll see you at 1:30, and Micah, please don’t be late,” I said sounding like I was begging her. Micah could only tell the time if you wrote it on sheet music.

“I wouldn’t want to clear my mind; I mean, I dream of Brad, but it’s only about numbers and dollar signs. Dang, he needs to get it together,” she says. Brad is a senior accounting manager at Novogradac & Company in San Francisco.

“Micah that is enough,” I say. “You’re only dreaming of numbers because Brad won’t let you spend money. Remember the house he’s going to build for you?”

“Yes, yes, I remember. This is why I hate calling you.”

“Why because you love me,” I say with a smile on my face.

“Like hell I love you,” she says giggling. “Seriously; you know, I love you! Now get going, and to prove you wrong I will be early just in case you get a pilot with a heavy stick,” Micah says laughing so hard she hangs up on me.

After I collect myself, I throw on my sweats and grabbed my iPod. I head out for my morning run; it was already minutes before seven, goodness, where did the time go? My flight is at nine and DFW is a nightmare. The song on my iPod changes and right on cue Anita Baker starts singing. Now, this is appropriate, I can’t help but sing along, “Baby, believe in the mystery, like it used to be; we were more than lonely drifters in the dark. I can remember the sun inside love held us tight, oh, I need to feel your magic here tonight instead of it tearing apart.”

I stopped running; I ended up bending over—I could no longer breathe. By the time I made it back home, I was bent over again feeling like I was going to pass out; not from the run, but from the words of the song and how I wish those words were true for me and my very own mystery. I had listened to this song at least ten times; it was like Ms. Baker was there singing just to me and him.

“Hey, sis, wow, you look like hell,” my older brother says.

“Huh, what did you say?”

“What are you listening to,” he says laughing trying to change the subject.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he smiles, “but to answer your question Anita Baker’s Mystery.”

“Cool! I love how you love music from the good old days. I think you grew up in the wrong decade.”

“Maybe, maybe I did grow up in the wrong time, but I’d blame my older siblings for this music that I love so much! I mean you all played good music all the time what am I supposed to do, listen to, besides this is real music! There are very few artists today who dare to try to be original.”

“You are so right! I heard some song the other day about busting windows out your car. I could not believe my ears, seriously, this song a hit with a stolen beat and repetitive lyrics. What happened to originality? What happened to the real songwriters,” he says shaking his head in disbelief, “like, when…” I wanted to ask him like when what, but he just started looking at his car keys.

“And you’re laughing at me for listening to real music?” I say ignoring the way he’s now looking at me.

“No, I’m just so glad you do,” he says. “Oh, by the way, dad is looking,” he says and now he has this concerned look that has become part of him lately when it comes to me, “for you; I, ah, came by your room this morning, but you were, umm,” he’s searching for the right words, but he changes the subject. “So, when are we going on a run together again; it’s been too long,” he says. Oh, sweet Jesus, he heard me this morning—God help me.

“Ant, it hasn’t been that long only a few months,” I said trying to act as if I’m not embarrassed, so glad I just ran; it’s so much easier to blame my red cheeks on that.

“So, six months is now a few,” I look at him like he’s crazy; surely it’s not been six months, and I know that confusion was written on my face, “six months Carmen, it’s been six months.”

“God, ok, I hear you! Sorry, I’ve had a lot to deal with, I’ve been busy,” distracting away my life is more like it. “How about we start over when I get back from New York.”

“Let me think about it.”

“Anthony, don’t act like a spoiled brat—God,” I say moving closer to him. “Anyway, dad’s waiting right, and I have to get going,” I had to change the subject away from what why I’ve been hiding away from my family for the past six months.

“Right, so, what time is your flight?”

“At nine,” I answer looking at his Caspian metallic blue Volvo S60 Convertible.

“Well, have a good time; oh, and tell Micah the next time she blows into town I better get a song or two out of her,” he says smiling.

“Maybe I’ll join her at the piano.” What am I saying? I must be high! I haven’t played the piano in five years.

“Oh, yeah, wait…are you serious? Now that would even be better! Carmen, I miss your music. Ah, I hope you think about playing please,” he says standing behind his car door, just looking at me as I bite my lip. “Anyway, let me get going some of us actually have work to do,” he say laughing trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, Carm, can you find me some new Yankee stuff; I need new gear,” Anthony and his Yankees—the former NFL running back that prefers baseball; the irony in that is almost too much.

“You’re sad, but yes, you know I will hook you up. See you Sunday, I love you,” I say to my brother now I’m invading his space hugging him. He is the only person other than Micah that I can truly talk to these days.

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