Dreaming Of A Dreamcatcher

Part 1 - Who are you?

Wake up! 

Seriously... Wake up!

What... why?

Because you're sleeping, duh. 

So?

So, it's time to wake up.

I repeat... why?

Um, breakfast?

I'm not hungry.

School?

It's Saturday.

TV?

Lame.

Fine, go back to sleep then. See if I care. 

Wait, who are you?

Um, I can't tell you. 

What, why?

You ask that question a lot.

I like to know things, is that a problem?

Right now, yes. 

Too bad, who are you.

Hey, look over there! 

"Where?" I asked, looking around wildly, before cursing. "Shit, she did it again." I said as the realization that I was now wide awake fully dawned on me. Haha, dawned... It's funny because it's dawn right now. Actually, it's almost Noon, but who gives a crap about time on a Saturday anyway. I say, whenever you wake up should be morning and whenever you go to bed should be night. What, don't act like you don't agree.

"I seriously fall for that every single time." I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "Every time I dream of her, she gets all cranky and nervous and starts tricking me into waking up. Who the hell does she think she is?" If your asking if I'm sitting on my bed, looking grumpy, and talking to myself, then yes, I am. 

I got up and looked at myself in the mirror... that was a mistake. Is there a girl alive that actually looks good first thing in the morning? If so, I'd like to meet her and punch her in the face just to make the world more equal. Just kidding, I'm not violent, at least not without good cause. 

Twenty minutes and a shower later, I finally felt awake and presentable enough to go downstairs and watch TV. I flipped through a few channels before stopping on the Food Network and watching Bobby Flay cook an imaginary brunch. Imaginary, because we never actually see anyone besides him eat it, and he only takes one bite anyway. I mean, who gets that food? Does is get thrown away, or do they at least give it to the crew. If so, I know what I want to do when I grow up. I wonder what qualifications you need to be the person who gets to eat Bobby Flay's left over brunch. 

Today he was making some sort of pizza with a poached egg on top. My mouth watered when he broke the yolk and it oozed all over the place. My stomach started cheering when he took a bite, and then it got angry when it realized I was only watching and not sharing in the meal. "Time to eat, huh." I said, turning off the TV and wandering into the kitchen. 

I spent about ten minutes trying to figure out what I wanted to eat. I was super hungry but for some reason everything sounded gross to me right now. Do you ever have those days? Like, I wanted milk but I can't drink milk without cookies or cereal or cake and those all seemed way too sweet for my first meal of the day. Yes, I said it, too sweet. Sue me. 

Meat was more my style, but I didn't feel like cooking because I sucked at it other than a few happy accidents. Whenever I made dinner at my house, my parents called it an experiment. I had a few hits when it came to them, but more than likely I'll screw up and get so mad I don't even finish cooking. Yeah, I rage quit on dinner. 

Right now, I am rage quitting on breakfast or brunch or lunch or whatever time it was now. It would be easier to walk down the street to the diner on the corner, except I had no money. Well, that wasn't true, I had three dollars and that could get me like a bagel or something, but I didn't have money to eat anything on the menu which meant I'd have to stare at it forever until something seemed both tasty and reasonably priced. Still, it was a better bet then what I was doing here. 

I got dressed in a pair of dark jeans, a white shirt, and I jammed my still wet hair in a messy bun. 

"Okay world, it's feeding time!" I yelled, laughing manically as I locked the door behind me and walked off like a boss.