The Girl Of My Dreams Prt. 2

It ended with me on a single sized bed, saying something stupid to some who had seen two of his friends leave in the back of an ambulance. His face was painted yellow to make him look more like a smiley face.
“I’m sorry all your friends are hurt,” I had said to him while he sat on his bed and I sat on mine. I had realized that that was a stupid thing to say, though I don’t remember why it was now. Possibly because it’d tempt fate. He looked at me with a benevolent face filled with understanding and grace and then he began to sing some stupid little tune better suited to send children to sleep.
“Sometimes bad things fell in my blanket.
And I’m not sure if I can take it.
But then, what I do to find myself a grin.
I put them all inside and I seal them all in.”
I don’t know most the details to this story, but it’s worth telling for one reason. Someone out there wants me to know it. She’s been trying to get through my thick skull for a while now and I feel like I should start listening.

I know that her and I didn’t met prior to the Marina. That’s what I’m calling it because that’s what feels right. It was a hotel by the water and as soon as I got there, some of us had hoped in and were splashing about. The Marina, every time I’ve ever seen it, has been under a gray sky. I don’t know where it is in real life or if it exists in real life. I keep on dreaming about it and this girl who goes there.

I knew her name for a moment. She had blonde hair, not black and she looked as though she jumped in the water with all her clothes on. She wore a dripping wet, tan foi-fur coat and black eyeliner. She looked up to me as we past on the stairs. Before I descended, I took a flyer for a tattoo shop. I didn’t read it. I ought to next time. I need to compile clues. I need to find her. I almost had her name. Someone had said t and I knew it, but dreams take place in the short term storage section of the brain. If you don’t do something fast they’re gone forever.

I want her to know that. I’m not being intentionally dense. Dreams just go there like she goes to the Marina. I want to know her name. I want to now where is. I feel as though I need to protect her. I don’t know if I’m too late. I’m getting the messages, but they might be echoes. I think that that’s why the man with the yellow smiley face sang his song. He was soothing a failed protector. Those girls weren’t hurt, they were dead. They were n body bag, but I wanted to believe that it wasn’t…
“Sometimes bad things get in my blanket.
I don’t know what to do. Don’t know if I can take it.
But then, what I do to find myself a grin.
I put them all inside and then I seal them all in.”

I wasn’t alone and she wasn’t alone. She was with friends and I was with family. I’m not sure if that’s important, but I need to remember as much as possible. It was my sister and my elder brother. I can’t remember if my young brother was there. She had another friend, one who I didn’t make any connection with. She had black hair and might have been…

This is crazy, but so is trying to connect with a dream. The girl with the black hair might have been the original girl, the one I failed. I believe she was in the body bag, being carted away. The blonde girl is the new one. She’s important because I can still help her.

The frustrating thing is, there are so many disunited details; the tattoo shop, the yellow faced man, the dripping wet blonde, the Marina, the color yellow itself, light bulbs. The paramedic had yelled something. He sounded angry with me as I tried to tell him that the girls had swam in the river.

Die Or Swim
I had thrown a girl in the river and my Aunt had shouted either Dive or swim which I think would be meaningless or Die or Swim, which would be meaningful. I don’t know which, but I think the girl I threw in was the second girl in the body bag.