The Cubicle Dream

The last fortnight that I had not seen her made me alarmingly paranoiac.  I think it was something that I said the last time (the first time I directly sent “Hi!” on her message box) I messaged her.  I can’t remember when I did that.  I just remember why.  I just thought I had to do it.  I ought to do it, if that’s the one thing that I can do to start knowing her.  But it seemed not working at all.  I might be damn hallucinating when I saw her looked at my direction the last time I saw her.  I’ll be damned if I saw her even smiled at me.  The punishment that I have to deal with the last fortnight was to adore her omnipresence in my mind. 

The days passed by. It ended with a dream about her: a dream that I wished would be endless.  Endless it wasn’t.  I should not be writing anything now on this short page of what I call a miss-you sponge if it was endless.  I hope it can carry all the things heavy that live in my heart, the sponge.  For this is only the start of siphoning off everything that I felt inside about her, everything that I hid inside that adored her.  There is more to draw off.

The cubicle dream.

Well, it really was a dream, a very vivid dream that was.  I was feeling every emotion what a real life me would have felt if it was really happening. 

I was sleeping to start, sleeping in my dream.  I was sleeping in my dream right in front of the cubicle that she used as seclusion from the stares of me when we’re in the office.  But I guess the real deal about that was just to make herself undisturbed (by the stares of me).  Maybe she got distracted and she can’t work.  Or she got distracted and elated and she wouldn’t want me to notice that she felt elated when she was distracted by my stares.  Oh boy, that’s hugely arrogant to say things like that.  You should be humble and keep everything at pace.  She won’t like that.

Shut up!

You told me. But I bet it won’t do any good.

Fine.

Okay. That dream.  I was sleeping, or pretending to be for I knew she was in that empty cubicle working.  It was weird (well, everything in dreams is weird).  Isn’t it weird to be sleeping in the office with your sleeping bag laid in front of the cubicle?  I must have been kicked out of the office no moments as soon as a manager or a partner caught me so.  But it was a dream, and weird things happen in there.  So I laid there without the feeling of uneasiness and all the negative things you feel when you’re in the arms of your working environment. 

I pretended to sleep.  Moments later she sneaks a stare at me.  My eyes began to tremble.  She was staring and walking or gliding at the same time towards me.  She stopped when we’re hairbreadth near.  My eyes shut open.  Someone cast a spell in the air and a weird thing happened again.  She was now the persona of her officemate smiling at me.  I knew her.  I talk to her when I had time to.  I think I smiled at her.  And then the scene became hazy and it had gone back to the scene where she was staring at me.

I woke up, or pretended to be waking up.  I greeted her “Good morning, beautiful,” and I woke up to the stale embrace of my mouth and reality.  The last time that I saw before I woke up was her secret smile.  Oi, how in the world have you seen a secret smile?  You’re pathetic.

What in the world do you care about for, huh?  I am you.  You should act like me.  Let us be one.  Yeah?

Okay.

And stop answering back!

You asked me.

I didn’t ask you to reply!

Okay, okay. I’ll shut it.

Thanks.

Anytime.  (Alter-ego grinning.)