Dreams are weird

(I've never kept a true journal... so I'm sorry to all of you that are stuck listening to my thinking-through-writing.)

The other night, I had a dream about a girl that I haven't seen in almost 10 years. Being as hopelessly romantic as I am, it seems that we had a lovely dream relationship and we even shared a pleasant dream kiss. That's all that remained in my memory. I woke up this morning, went to work, and couldn't stop thinking about why she would suddenly show up in a dream.

I was a weird kid in grade seven (weirder than now...), but though she generally didn't run in the same crowd as me (I didn't have a crowd), she was never outright mean to me. I remember her actually waving to me one evening as she and her mother drove by. I thought it was odd and unexpected, my mom suggested that maybe she liked me (gotta love mothers). I didn't have a crush on her, at least from what I remember, but the thought rattled around in my head for a few days back then and then, it seems, buried itself in my memory until last Tuesday.

I wonder where Donna is now.

P.S.
I now remember her looking (at least in my eyes) like a young Cameron Diaz. Maybe it was the watching of "The Holiday" that triggered this. Either way, I maintain that dreams are weird.

... there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space!

(My sister and I watched "The Holiday" today)