“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, pulling out a chair, turning it around, straddling it.
“Yes. I mind,” she said, going back to what she was writing.
“You’re even more beautiful than I thought you’d be.”
“No kidding. Now that you’ve seen me, go bother someone else.”
“Spunky, just as I thought.”
She stopped writing, looked at him and said, “Did you just say, spunky? No one says spunky. No one.”
“You’re a writer,” he said. “You love to read, you love dogs, swimming…”
“Long walks on the beach and cherry pie, right?” she snapped.
“Not exactly,” he said.
“What’s your damage?”
“Excuse me?” he said.
“What is wrong with you? What do you want and why won’t you go away?”
“Okay, this might sound a little strange, but–you’re a dream.”
“Right. Now you’ve told me your story, so go away.”
“It’s not just you. Everyone here is someone’s dream. Where I come from, our dreams become realities and they manifest here, on this planet. I dreamed you into existence and I know everything about you, because I made you.”
“You should turn that into a movie for TV.”
“So am I.”
“The violence and insanity you live in isn’t because you are all violent and insane, it’s because a lot of people where I come from, are violent and insane and their dreams produce those things in this place.”
“If only we could use that as an excuse for being a flawed and demented, hateful and disgusting species.”
“You can. Use it as an excuse, I mean, “since it’s true..”
“So you dreamed me. I’m not real for any other reason. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Exactly. You’re real, but only because I dreamed you.”
“The guy over there,” she said, nodding to her left, “the one with the red windbreaker and blue glasses, is someone’s dream?”
“What about the animals?”
“They live here and they were all happy and life was good, until our dreams started manifesting into reality. When that began, we didn’t control them and other beings were angry and said we had to dream you into one place. So, we chose this planet, not realizing the damage we would be causing. We’re really sorry.”
“If I kill you, will I disappear?”
“I don’t know. I’m not supposed to be here. We aren’t allowed to look for our dreams.”
“So why are you here?”
“You’re all I ever think about.”
“What will happen to you, if whoever it is, finds out you were here?”
“They’ll stop me from ever dreaming again.”
“And then what will happen?”
“I’ll die, of course.”
“And take me with you?”
“Again, I have no idea.”
“So you may have put my life at risk by coming here, but you came anyway.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, starting to write.
“I didn’t think you would, but it’s the truth and I’m in love with you.”
“You’re in love with your dream?”
“How did you get here.”
“I dreamed myself here.”
“If someone kills you while you’re sleeping, will you stay here, or die in both places?”
He thought for a minute. “I don’t know.”
“Is there anything you do know?”
“I know that I want to be with you.”
“But I don’t want to be with you…ever.”
“Wait,” he said, surprised. “You don’t?”
“I don’t know you and I’m madly in love with someone.”
“Didn’t you dream that part?” she asked, smirking.
“I did not,” he said. “This means that you have independent lives of your own.”
“That’s not supposed to happen.”
“You need a better story.”
“It’s not a story, it’s the truth.”
“How is this possible?”
“Are you real while you’re here?” she asked.
He looked at his hands and turned them over. “Maybe.”
She took out a gun and shot him through the heart..
His eyes widened, he looked down at his chest, then slumped forward, over the back of the chair.
“Hey, Bobby,” she yelled. “We have another one of those creepy people who think they’re from somewhere else., dreaming us. Sorry about the mess.”
Bobby came over with a broom and dustpan to cleaned up the ashes. “No problem. They always get it backward. At least there aren’t any bodies to get rid of.”
“Good point,” she laughed. “They really do think that they’re the ones who are dreaming us.”
“Do you ever wonder if someone is dreaming us, like we’re dreaming them?” he asked, thoughtfully.
“All the time, Bobby. “All the time.”