I don't sleep well. I don't sleep very much. Even with three zopiclone tabs in me, I only managed to sleep tonight from 1am BST to 4. However, during that small scrap of oblivion, I dreamt a dream so vivid that some part of me remains convinced that it was reality.
I dreamt that I met a girl. I can't recall where, but it was at a familiar place: school, perhaps, or the village near my house. I dreamt that she was tall, red-haired, in her mid-20s. I dreamt that I was struck by the girl's uncommon beauty, the ethereal, eternal, supertemporary quality of her deep, deep irises. I wished to approach her, but didn't know how; I stood, shaking a little, flapping my hands by the wrists like the retard I am, feeling my heart accelerate. My chest hurt, and my breaths were short and stuttering. I rubbed my face in an attempt to calm down, and the girl turned to me.
"Are you okay?" I managed a reply, of sorts. "Y-yes. I'm fine. And you're, er, beautiful."
The girl looked at me oddly, but I didn't panic. I was struck down by an ataractic calm that grew in intensity the longer I looked into her face. It was like the calm that grows from lying in hospital wards, hooked to machines, full of cannulae, and absolved of all responsibility or guilt. Everything was okay now. I knew that, as strongly and as deeply as I knew that this girl was standing in front of me. "Are you okay?" I was okay now.
I don't remember how it happened, but we found ourselves in a(nother?) building that I know — a coffee shop, a hotel, a library? It had the drop ceiling and dark synthetic fabric wall coverings of my old school library, but there were no stacks, no books, not that I can remember.
I introduced myself by name. She introduced herself as Olivia Fields. We sat and spoke freely: about Japanese cinema, about mental illness, and about religious philosophy, as I remember. I'm sure we discussed more, but it's slipped away from me between sleeping and waking.
Before I could truly make contact with the importance of her name, filed away in my mind, I awoke. I awoke slowly, seamlessly; it was as if the scene in my dream had simply shifted again to my bed. But I knew that I was awake now because I knew what that girl's name had meant to me.
I hope I dream of you again tonight, Olivia. I hope I dream of you again today. Every time I go to sleep, I will so do in the hope of seeing you again.
With that, I'm off to find where my family have hidden my sleeping pills; with any luck, I can get in a few more hours; with divine luck, I might see Olivia again.