Colors of Paris ◇ Elijah Stevenson

Chapter Five.

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Dreaming in color always fascinated me.Studies have shown that more and more people are dreaming in color thus less are dreaming in black and white is now recalled different. When I think of dreaming in a sense that you see colors and their sensations that go along with them I also sense a pattern what I feel on the outside experience. Like when you are kissing someone and then you open your eyes to bright green ones pearing right back at you at the same time, dreaming you might feel a sense of warmth and homelike feeling on the outside. That's when you know it is a dream, though it might seem so real you can't and force yourself to not wake up.

Dreaming of love and romance sometimes-hardly ever- sparked my interest. Until now that is. Dreaming in color and dreaming of love go along better than peas of a pod. Better than peanut butter and jelly. Than a relgious person to their Holy Bible.

And it was because of Eli. In one swift fraction of a day and a half, dreaming that dream, I now know I liked him.

Sure he was a jerk. Actually come to think of it. He was an utter right asshole that he makes Donald Trump seem like an angel. But beyond the darkness and the confusion Eli gave me, there was also a sensivity deep inside my heart that made me like him.

Made me like his chesnut brown hair. His eyes that pierce through me whenever I look through them. His hands that seem to have the same complexity to them as his long legs and his forarms that connected to huge triceps which flipped over to average-though I seemed to think attractive- biceps. He was slender with no doubt but nothing of his slenderness could make me feel anything different about him.

His actions nor words wouldn't make me feel anything different about him. Because just the thought of him kissing me like that night at Luke's replayed over in my head like a broken record.

Truth be told, I rather not fix that broken record either.

Because I liked Eli.

Now that the tables have turned and he has told me I can't get rid of him, I feel a tightness to the heart. Like I have to guard it at all costs. I can't love a person after two days. That would be impossible, right? Oh gosh I sound like a fool by just asking that.

I wish the colors of the dream I just had would just go away. I wish the emotions and feelings I have for that boy would go. Days before this I didn't even know him fully. I only knew of him. I didn't put the name and the face together. but now it is to late to resee the face or not know him.

When I wake up the next morning afterward, I have to yawn whole heardtly. I tried to force myself to wake up but the dream I was having that had Eli in it was to memsmorizing. The colors and the feelins I had. (around 3 am I had noticeed the dream I was having prior was a a naughty one and waking up was a different story). I rather not have though. Not have them with a man-a boy to a sense- that I just met.

It wouldn't feel nor did feel right.

I get up from my bed and scrathed my auburn to dark hair. I go to my bathroom and then peer inside the mirror. After getting ready I reimise about my dream. I touch my lips and for a one thought I could swear I feel a sensational feeling they were physically touched last night too. Not days ago. But actually touched. I feel the warmth of my hands like they were held just moments prior and not just hours. I would know because unlike all the crushes I have had, my hands are cold. It's like his attidtude and overall mood has subsidded to me.

I get on my clothes fully and head downstairs to get the keys to my car. When I get in my car I see him.

In my mirror, like a flash of lighting, he appears. You can't get rid of me the voice taunts and bugs the shit out of me.