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2004-02-17 - 5:38 p.m. Stupid Scarlett O'Hara I've had a strange dream. Okay, it wasn't that strange, but I reacted rather strongly to it. A few weeks ago, I breezed through Gone with the Wind like a starved bibliophile, taking in everything I could, and did, in a week. (I think I read it too fast.) If you've never read the book, or, less likely, seen the movie, good ol' Scarlett O'Hara spends much of her time yearning for Ashley Wilkes, a pretty blond guy she has nothing, Nothing, in common with. Just before the war breaks out, he was to be engaged to Melanie, his cousin, but Scarlett threw herself at his feet, telling him that she loved him before then. She was massively rejected. This, and all the other fun facets of her relationship with Ashley and Rhett 'I-Don't-Give-A-Damn' Butler, has been churning in my mind for a while, so maybe it was inevitable that I'd dream something along those lines. The scene: a wedding that did not happen because of the rain. Me: in the Scarlett-role, third half of the book, in which she is shunned by all her friends, but pre-throwing-self-at-about-to-be-married-man. The guy: A boy I knew, and loved, back in middle school. I still swear that he liked me, back in the day, but the last time I saw him, my senior prom where he was escorting a friend of my, I'm glad to say that he just felt like a friend from back then... But, at points, I can't really say it was him in the dream. He, the guy in the dream, was just a generic guy I felt for. All around, people are giving me dirty looks, probably because I was the reason the wedding wasn't taking place that day, but they all decide to leave for the day. I threw myself at the guy, telling him to marry me, but he yells at me, telling me that he can't and I'm an idiot to think he could. I hide for the rest of the day inside, worrying about the rain on my books, (this part is not the part I want to type about, by the way), but at night, I decide to get dress and go outside. He's out there, almost waiting for me, it's not raining anymore. My male family members were out there, though, watching us like moral sentinels. I don't know, but it was creepy. We talk, and then, FINALLY, the part I want to type about... I ask him what happened between us, or something equally... whiny, I think, as I look up at him from my seat on the porch. He sits down in front of me, rests his arm on my knees and takes my hand in his. Immediately, those three places start to heat up, as if he really was there, holding my hand, his arm over my knees. Part of me Knew this was a dream, which made me freak out even more, which made the reaction even stronger, I think. Then, he tells me that, while I was away, in Asia, for months, I never once called him, sent a letter, and otherwise did nothing to keep in contact, which slowly, but surely, caused me to panic and sweat. By this point I knew it was a dream, but I couldn't escape what was happening. My heart started beating faster. I was getting warm all over from the anxiety. I couldn't even hear what else this dream man was saying. "It was my fault." Finally, after I don't know how long I was like this, heating up more and more, covered in sweat, I made myself get up and walk away for relief. Okay, more like roll onto my back and pull away the covers, but that was what it translated to in this half-dream. People had finally returned from where they came from, and my female family members told him to let me be, so he didn't follow me as I walked around to the back of the house for fresh air. In the end, the fact that I reacted so... physically to a half-dream, I don't know. But I would like to officially blame Gone with the Wind The Past - Guestbook - The Future, Too |