A Dream - Cover

A Dream

by Donald Griffith

Copyright© 2004 by Donald Griffith

Fiction Story: Accounts of a dream

Tags: Teenagers   Romantic  

Note: This is not a true story, but it is a dream that I had about someting that happened a long time ago. No sex to speak of, but I thought it was pretty interesting, Enjoy


My wife was gone for the weekend helping her sister decorated a bedroom for our nieces new born baby, and I was on line doing some research for a project I was working on when I got an "incoming call alert". I usually let the call go to the voice mail, but since I was ready to call it quits for the night, I answered the call. "Hello"

"Hey Greg, it's Roger, Roger Johnson, from the old neighborhood."

"Hi Rog. Wow it's been a while. What, about ten or fifteen years at least?"

"Yeah, about that. Last time I saw you, it was at your house on Spring Road in Station Island. I stopped by there a few weeks ago and, well I found out you had moved way back. I tried looking your number up in the phone books, tried the people search on the Internet, but kept coming up empty. I remembered that you were, and I guess you still are, married to Rick Olsen's cousin. I stopped by the police station to see him, but they said he retired a few months back. I asked, but they wouldn't give me his number, so I left my number with them and they said they would get it to him. Well, about fifteen minutes ago he called me and gave me your number. Hope you're not mad about that."

I listened to what he said, and something didn't seem just right. "Well, no I aint mad, but with all the trouble you went through to get in touch with me I am sure it wasn't just to say hello. So, what's up?"

"Yeah, it's more than that, but I really don't want to talk on the phone about it. Can you meet me? It's really important. Say in about an hour or so?"

I looked at the clock on my desk and since it was still sort of early and I was home alone with nothing else to do, I thought what the hell. "Yeah, I can meet you. Where do you want to meet?"

"Can you come to my house?"

"Ah, yeah I guess. Give me the address, and directions."

"Well, first off, I live just across the state line in a small town called Poplars Cove, just off the interstate. It'll take you a good hour to drive it, but don't worry, I'll cover your gas for you."

"Holy shit Rog, you live way the hell up there? Couldn't we, say meet half way or something?"

"Greg, I wouldn't ask this, especially since we haven't been that close for the last few years, but believe me this is important. It's just, well it would be better if you were here, and well I can explain it better in person. How about it, can you help out?"

I wasn't sure just what the hell he was up to, but since it was a nice night for a motorcycle ride, and since I really had nothing else to do, I said I would.

Exactly one hour and ten minutes later I was pulling into the driveway of the address he gave me. Seconds later, I saw him coming out of the front door to greet me.

"Hey Greg, thanks man. I owe you big time."

Without much conversation, he led me around to the back of the house to a very sharp looking four-season room. Just as I was about to enter, I could see her sitting at the patio table wearing a smile that I hadn't seen in forty years.

"Hi Greg. It's good to see you again and so happy you agreed to help."

I guess the confused look on my face let her know I hadn't the foggiest idea of what she was talking about, and turned to Roger. "You did explain things didn't you Roger?"

"Ah, no Jessica I didn't. I thought it might be best if it came from you."

Seconds later, Roger turned and walked back out side leaving me awkwardly standing there looking at the first girl to steal my heart, and I had to admit I felt

like a teenager again on his first date. My palms were sweating and her aged, but still pretty face had a look of great concern. Clearing my throat I stammered. "Jessie, that's if I can still call you that, is there something wrong? You mentioned something about my help. Just what is it?"

"Greg, remember the big fight we had, and me acting stupid and breaking up with you?'

Little did she know that was something I could never forget. I mean when the girl you loved more than life itself rips your heart out and refused to ever talk to you again, could anyone forget? Especially for the reason we split up. We were at a party where we both experienced the effect of wine and pot for the first time. A little blitzed and high, left our resistance down and that night we made love, the first time for either of us. Emotionally she had trouble with what happened, and she felt I didn't feel the same way towards her and a

 
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