I had a dream last night. You were in it.
I flew from Nairobi with a random outgoing girl called Efva Lagerton or something. She had big curly almost fro-like orange hair. Very tall and skinny. I told her I had no idea where I was supposed to go once we arrived – so she offered to let me stay at her apartment. Which turned out to be a very upperclass version of the Paper Street Soap Company. Smelled like Chanel No. 5 and wine – warm from so many upperclass kids walking back and forth in there. High ceilings, chateaux-like design and these giant rooms with the haute couture clothing in piles or giant beds where people just lied down in their drunken states.
I didn’t belong.
And then I saw you in the corner of what used to be a dining room that was now a shisha-gathering and I asked Efva if you were [name]. I tell you we should take a walk immediately. No affection, no endearing “I’ve missed you”s, no nothing. We just walk out. It’s quiet and I talk about guy-problems (that I really don’t have, I’m just really bad at making girl talk).
Anyways, the dream ends up with us standing in the corner of main street. You look at me weirdly. You kiss me goodbye on the cheek. I kiss you goodbye back on the cheek. Come on – we can kiss on the mouth – we’re friends! Ha-ha. So we pretend kiss. And then we pretend kiss some more. Until we’re just kissing. You stop. You look me in the eyes and tell me how you feel about us.
I catch the next flight to Beijing with Efva, somehow my new best friend. On the plane, she asks me what happened. And I tell her I felt nothing. Such a relief.