a dream I was walking. Inside my apartment complex, only it wasn't my apartment complex--it was different, but it was mine, somehow--you know what I'm getting at, don't you? So I was strolling along and then I took off running. I don't know why, but DreamMelissasaurus thought, 'Let's run,' so we did (DreamMelissasaurus and I). We ran to the opposite side of the complex and we thought it was our home so we went up the stairs. Only the stairs weren't ours. Apparently, our stairs were normal wooden stairs, but the stairs we were on, they were colourful. Decorated. Streamers, glitter, the rainbow. The works! We went up them. We slipped and slid. I can't remember, but I think DreamMelissasaurus was wearing socks. We fell a few times and thought, 'Well, maybe we should turn around and go,' but we didn't. A hand came out to us. It was a nice hand. Most importantly, it was connected to a boy. He was nice. Nice-looking, too. So we took it, DreamMelissasaurus and I, depending solely on our carnal instincts of the overly sexed teenager and thinking nothing of logic and reality. In fact, I--real Melissa--thought this was real. And I was thinking, 'Here's to the start of love.' DreamMelissasaurus and I took that boy's hand and we fell into his arms, into his house, which was large and spacious and full of what my personal dream house would be full of--glass and paintings and colour, pillows and bedding and comforters full of feathers, food and aroma and life. DreamMelissasaurus said, 'I love your house. I love your backyard!' And DreamBoy said, 'Well--it's not mine. It's my parents'...they took this house so we could have the flowers in the back.' And lo and behold! Behind us was a windowpane that stretched round the entire household, and out of it were bunches of tulips and daisies growing on the lawn below us, a few stories down because we were, of course, in an apartment. DreamMelissasaurus gasped. 'I remember those! My dad flew me around this way to tell me this was what our backyard was going to look like.' DreamBoy smiled. 'Does it look like this?' DreamMelissasaurus then blushed, red like candy. I myself stopped breathing. 'I don't think so.' After that, things were a blur. DreamMelissasaurus and DreamBoy talked. DreamBoy had a sister, of whose name is unknown. She was fairly cute and fairly annoying, as little sisters go, but she was not a crucial plot development in the story. She was in the background, with DreamBoy's parents, with the rest of the house, with the rest of the apartment complex. They were unimportant. There was only this. DreamMelissasaurus put the blur on pause. She said, 'I have to go.' DreamBoy, with his lost-detailed eyes and his lost-detailed hair and his lost-detailed beautiful smile, said okay. He said, come back. DreamMelissasaurus said she could come back tomorrow, and DreamBoy kissed her. Or maybe he did not--nobody can remember. We went home, DreamMelissasaurus and I, and left DreamBoy behind. We left behind the flowers and the house and the warm bed we had lain in, the arms we had been held in, his little sister, the apartment complex. We flew somewhere--or maybe it was not flying, maybe we were running. It was a sad decision, but I had to wake up. back