B and G walk, hand in hand.
G: The sky is so beautiful right now. So blue and velvet. Don’t you agree?
B: (distracted) Yes. Beautiful sky.
G: It’s brilliant. Literally. It is teaching us lessons as we speak.
B: Such a smart sky, yes.
G: But when did the ground beneath us become so soft? I am afraid I might fall in.
B: It’s just sand, mind you. We won’t fall in. Either way, let’s head for higher ground. I seem to remember a very inviting looking colonial house a ways back. Although who knows if it will still be there…
G: Darling, you seem distracted.
B: Nonsense. I’m just a little winded from climbing those stairs. Seemed as though they would go on forever. No end in sight. And then suddenly, well, here we are.
G: (delighted) Yes! Here indeed! And I couldn’t be happier about it. To be here with you. Right now.
B: (under breath) It won’t last…
G: Darling, you keep whispering things that I can’t make out. It’s very rude.
B: I’m sorry dear. It’s difficult to hear over the sounds of all those birds.
G: (surprised) Oh yes. I had hardly even noticed them. Thousands. Where did they all come from, I wonder…
B: They poured forth from those bright red, undulating clouds. Let’s keep moving, in this direction.
G: (laughing) Oh darling, a second ago you wanted to go higher!
B: It doesn’t matter. It’s a different place now, entirely.
G: Honey, I demand to know what is wrong. You seem entirely disengaged!
B stops short. He looks her in the eyes, sad, then anxious. He begins to wring his hands.
B: Dear. My dearest, sweetest honeysuckle. This is very difficult for me to tell you.
G: (nervous) Why? What is it? Are you sick? I had noticed your skin turn a terrible shade of palputia earlier as we passed the rising lake-
B: (stern) No! No, it’s nothing like that. Please just let me speak.
G: All right, no need to be stern. Speak away.
B: (to himself) Speak away, speak away… So true.
G: (frustrated) Dear, your words are riddles! It’s really quite unfair!
B: I’m sorry! I just… I’m not quite sure how to tell you this.
G: (scared) Oh god…
B: If I could just make you understand that this is in no way your fault and-
G: It’s over, isn’t it?
B: (confused) What?
G: You’re breaking up with me. (suddenly angry) You bastard, you told me you loved me! More than anything!
B: Honey, I am not breaking up with you!
B: It’s not that… simple.
G: (skeptical) Oh… really. I’ll bet it isn’t. I’m sure it is ever so complicated and that it’s simply outside of your control and if there was anything you could do to change-
B: This is a dream.
G: Yes, yes. It is ever so dreamy out here and until moments ago I had been able to enjoy it!
B: That’s not what I mean. This is all a dream.
G: It is my dream. All of it. And I don’t understand why you must ruin it by-
B: (frustrated) This is actually a dream! A figment!
G is silent for a moment. She blinks. Her pupils dilate, disappear, then return.
G: Excuse me?
B: (gesturing around them) This. Around us. It’s only a dream. It’s my dream.
G: Is this an existential perspective that you’ve recently adopted?
B: This is a literal description of what is right now occurring. I am dreaming. This is my dream. In real life, I am asleep in my bed. (realizes) I left the candle burning…
G: So what are you trying to tell me? In reality, you don’t have these feelings for me?
B stares at G, sadness filling his face until it is overflowing from his pores, dripping out in cold, metallic pellets. They hit the ground and transform the sand beneath them into billions of these small, grey, metal balls.
Before B has a chance to speak, G appears to know what he is going to say. She shrinks to half her size and begins trembling.
G: This floor is cold on my feet.
B: I’m afraid, my love, that in reality, there is no you.
G: That can’t be.
B: You aren’t a person from my life. Instead, you are a prism. You are a collaboration of different women that I’ve encountered or known or loved or… dreamed of. You are everything I’ve sought in a mate. You are my dream girl. Quite-
B: (nodding sadly) Yes. Quite so.
G: So when you wake up… ?
B: You will no longer exist.
G: Not in this form?
B: Not in any form. Only as a distant memory. If even that. You see, I seldom remember my dreams.
At this, G breaks down, sobbing. The tears shriek out from her in all directions.
Nick was raised in Connecticut and now lives in New Orleans. He’s lived one other place in between. He is interested in the way in which humor and comedy allow people to deal with enormous things that would otherwise be uncomfortable to deal with. He has no pets but is appreciative of animals.