I Became A Vulcan

Laurel: Age 7 + Mr. Fluffy

Have you ever had such a terrible dream that left you panting, sweating, and swarming in terror? When I was a little girl I'd have nightmares every night, and I'd always end up running to my mum's room. Jumping on my parents bed, almost assassinating my father and causing my mum to spring up at the speed of a Monster-crazed kangaroo. "Mum! Mum! They (foggy loss of memory here) tried to tickle me to utter death and then they shot me with a flaming arrow." So, I had a rough childhood and even now I still get antsy in the dark, by myself, and sometimes I can swear that I see little ugly monsters coming down from my ceiling at night; pretty awful. But as time goes on, and I grow up and my nightmares have changed. They're still a little harrowing but now they are on a totally different subject. Failed matchmaking attempts, nerds coming after me with knives because they were too geeky to match, girls in teal puffy dresses that just wouldn't listen to me, and my father screaming, 'You can't date till your fifty two years old!' .......
You get my picture. Nightmares.

Laurel: Age 17 + Mr. Fluffy

Anyway, lately, I have been having the most odd reoccurring nightmare...

I awoke (in my dream) lying on a park bench in Paris, a pink balloon tied to my hand and a box of chocolates at my side. The balloon's ribbon was digging into my wrist and after opening the box, I discovered it to be empty; naught but wrappers. The sky was gray and the sun was covered up by a storm cloud. The street was empty and all the windows were shut tight. The street was silent and I could see Fleur De Lis everywhere, an old French symbol of murder & crime. And like the turning on of a light, my sight went black and white.

I tried to call out and see if anyone was around, but my voice was gone and instead, little glossy bubbles of sparkling pink soap came sputtering out. No words just bubbles and they weren't sweet bubblegum bubbles but nasty soap. Like having your mother clean out your mouth for saying a bad word. A continual sense of punishment and the sky was getting a darker gray by the minute.

I started to walk, not looking around, just walking. Sending little bubbles out, and then popping them.  Do you know that feeling one gets when someone is about to jump on them? The hair stands up on your arms and her neck prickles. I rounded a corner and found myself at the foot of Eiffel Tower.

Up until this point I realized I had not had a positive emotion towards anything I'd seen. I was finding myself very derogatory. It was not until I saw an actual person that I realized what exactly had been stolen from me.

I heard a noise that was very unpleasant to my ears, like metal hay scratching glass. I held my ears and tried to shout 'Stop!' but all that came out was bubbles and I almost gagged on the strength of the soap. A very tall man had slid down the side of the Tower beside me and was smiling directly at me. He looked like an idiot, and his clothes were too perfectly pressed.

"My name is Christian." He said, his eyes were much too dark and I frowned at the sound of his voice.
"Go away." Inside I stopped and slapped myself inwardly. Laurel! My inward voice shouted so loudly I was sure he'd heard. What are you thinking? It's Christian Bale and he's saying 'Hello"....and you're just standing here like an idiot. Hello Girl! I swallowed and tried heard to be.....interested in this random guy standing in front of me.
"Want to go for some coffee?" he asked, apparently unaware of my insulting reply to his introduction. I snorted and replied, "I have better things to do." I suddenly realized I could talk without bubbling, but the taste was still there. Darn girl, no coffee break? 


Suddenly, like a jungle rain storm Bale was gone. I laughed and told my Inner Voice, "I have better things to do." I cannot believe that you just did that. You're insane. I laughed again and started to skip, in a blink of an eye I was  on a busy street in London.

Cute guys walking straight at me, and nothing made me inclined to smile. I'd lost any positive reaction towards life, and my hopeless romantical sappy way of being towards guys was gone. I had been deprived of my ability to have a crush and the worst part, I wasn't crushed at all. I was happily skipping. But deep down my little Inner Voice was very sad. For the Hopeless Romantic to lose her Hopelessly Romantic self is like making a Nutella sandwich without the Nutella and no one notices or cares. I had basically become a Vulcan, a total loss of affection + sunny side upness was zip. Gone like the wind.

I had been skipping along, head down, blowing soap bubbles down into the dirty black street. I bumped into a very tall person and looked up, ready to blow some soap into their eyes.
A young Harrison Ford, right off the Star Wars lot, still dressed in the nerdy attire of the shoot.

Victim 

Murder Weapon

He winked his famous wink and I should have melted but I simply raised and eyebrow. Then I promptly took out an umbrella and stabbed him to death. I wiped my umbrella on his white shirt and grinned, an evil grin and walked on in the black and white rain. My Inner Voice had shut off like a faucet and I heard the noise of a TV turning on. Then I felt sad, slightly guilty, and very much alone and a deep voice said, 'The End'. I woke up in my bed, not panting for breath and sweating, just very sad and terrified.

What a horrible black, white, and loveless world. I went about my morning task, but even as I brushed my teeth I could still feel the soapy taste. I had been forced into being a....(gasp) an Unromantic.

What a nightmare!