The Middle (Part III)

My eyes snapped open. I can’t believe I just… holy that was the weirdest dream I ever had. I mean, I was just imaging things. Playing scenarios in my head like Mark Tuan confessing his love for me on our graduation day. And I… holy – I just dreamt of us having a hot night. For goodness’s sake even my altered state of consciousness…

“Hey, you’re awake,” his brows raised, “I was just going to wake you up.”

“Oh, a…ahaha,” that laugh is so fake I want to strangle myself, “Th…” It was a huge mistake looking at him because the moment I did it, my dream is flashing on my head. It was dramatic and okay, hot. Really hot. “Thanks.”

“Your face is so red.” He laughed, probably thinking that the reason behind my beet red cheeks is because of sleep. Well… partly.

“Shut up,” I stood up and left him in the lecture hall. How am I supposed to interact with him right after… that? Really. I may not remember every part of it but I know it was hot. And I shouldn’t be dreaming about it. Is this the unconscious that Freud was talking about? Desires? Oh my goodness. I don’t want to have a dream like that again. I should forget about it.

When I got home, I sat beside Nana, my girl, who is watching Hotarubi no Mori e on my laptop. I don’t even know she has a full grasp on what’s really happening on what she’s watching because if anything, these kinds of movies may be made for kids but are actually meant to be watched by adults.

Just so I can get that dream off my mind, I tried focusing on what she’s watching and true enough, I was too focused on the movie to even think about the dream. I was too busy crying. But I noticed that Nana is also crying. I nudged her small frame, “Why are you crying?”

“Mommy you’re also crying.”

I wiped my tears, “I am.”

“So why can’t I cry?”

I tossed her into my lap and hugged her. “You can always cry about these things, honey. I was just asking.”

“But do you want to know why I was crying, mommy?”

“Do you want to tell me?”

“I do. So can I tell you?”

I smoothed her hair and reassured her. “You always can.”

“It’s because it’s a proof that we can’t have everything.”

Sometimes the way she thinks surprises me. She doesn’t seem like a six year old girl. “Want to tell me more about it?”

“The girl was like me, she has Gin and they have a great friendship. While me, mommy, I have you. I have the best. But I don’t have a dad,” And my heart sank as those words slipped her lips. “And she can’t have Gin.”

I tried biting my tongue to keep myself from crying but to no avail.

“Mommy why are you crying?”

“I was just…” I shook my head, “Sad for her.”

She started sobbing again, “Me too, mommy,” she hugged my tighter. “Me too.”

After our little drama, Aunt Mira joined us. She prepared kimchi fried rice and gimbap. “My package just a