Wednesday, June 02, 2004

There's this younger guy in the Media Arts course who looks like a White guy version of Gael García Bernal (and by younger, I mean, a year younger). Other than that, they're identical. And I say this because, well, he looks like the Mexican heartthrob. How did I come to this conclusion?

It all started with a dream ...

You know how sometimes the people in your dreams aren't people you usually associate with, yet during this period of rest, you somehow get involved in extremely intimate scenerios? That's the case with Media Boy.

I never even knew his name, and we were cordial whenever I went over to his Media class to use the computer. I'd crack jokes about the teacher and he'd laugh, maybe, obligingly.

Then I had this whacked out dream where I was walking with my girl friends, and he was walking behind us, and I jokingly put my arm around his shoulders and over-confidently asked, "Hey kid, how old are you?" thinking that he was must be either too old or too young for me.

"17," came his answer and I, shocked, said giggling, "Me too!"

The next thing you know, we're living together in an apartment complex in, like, Arizona, doing what people do when living together (excluding eating, cleaning and actual sleeping). I find photos of his ex-wife and children one day scattered across the living room floor, and suggest that we go visit them in the slums of Mexico.

"Will you be okay with it?" he asked.

"Oh, it'll be fun."

So we hide under this straw-filled mule cart, and smuggle ourselves across the Mexican border, speaking only when the mules are a-whinnying (or hacking, or whatever.)

That's all I remember. The next day, I go to class and Media Boy was standing there and I experience this panic attack of recognition. The word "Husband" kept scrolling across my eyes. It was the weirdest thing. So I, naturally, told him about my dream concerning our distorted marital status (in front of the class) and he, surprisingly, took it better than I had expected. As in, didn't wind up throwing a brick at my face. Actually, he looked embarrassed ... Especially when I asked for his name.

"You don't know his name? But you talk to him on a daily basis!"

"I ... didn't think I needed to. He was, 'Hey you' or 'Boy.'"

Me to Media Boy: "Do you know my name?"

"Yes. Who doesn't know Lily?" came the sarcastic reply.

He and I are good friends now and yes, he still looks like Gael García Bernal had he powdered himself with White man's makeup every morning (just a tad; he's not Irish pale or anything.)

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