Life sucked. He was bored, he was lonely, and he was
frustrated.
He’d been driving around on the freeway
for what seemed like hours, thinking about nothing but her. And her.
The holidays had been nice. They had been stress-free and
dream-free. Their families had gotten
together and he had a pretty good time. Britney’s birthday had been incredible.
They had gone to a spa and just hung out
together and he really felt that maybe this time he was rid of his dream
girl. It had been about two months and
he had had no dreams about her. In fact
now his dreams, or at least his sexual ones were
starting to be about his real girlfriend, which was to his relief.
Britney hadn’t let the memory of
his sex dream die as quickly as he had liked and for a while she was really
making him feel like the lowest being on earth because of it. So, like any normal, rich boyfriend he knew
she had been wanting a particular Porsche, so he
bought it for her. And then she dropped
the whole dream thing. It was forgotten
and she never spoke of it again.
But it bothered him. At first he thought it was a great idea, but
the fact that he was able to buy her off troubled him. So when they went to the spa and had true,
perfect, alone time with just him and her and no hype, no celebrity, no press,
no crowds and no one else, he was relieved.
The Britney he remembered emerged and the superficial pop icon
disappeared. It had been getting harder
to distinguish the two in their public and private life.
Her birthday made him fall for her,
so hard, and he remembered why they were so good together and why he loved her
so much.
And then December ended and
January began. She left to go on tour
and though he had cried when she left him, (he didn’t know why, it was the first
time he had ever done that) he was actually happy. It was her last tour for 12 months. He was going on tour himself shortly, and him and the guys had all decided that when they finished it
would be their last tour for a while.
They all needed time off.
She had left the week before and
he had a week and a half of vacation before they had two weeks of intense prep
work for the tour. Then they were
launching into it. He was looking forward
to the Grammy’s with her and the tour with the guys. In fact, he was looking
forward to the rest of his life.
And then, then it happened. Like it always
did, right when he was starting to forget her and she was becoming a fading
memory: Bam, there she was.
He turned up the CD he was
listening to, trying to drown out his own thoughts. He kept replaying his dream in his head. It haunted him. She haunted
him.
He had woken up that morning and
immediately called Trace. He didn’t
answer. He thought about calling his mom
but was scared he’d break down to her and she’d fly out there the next second
and wheel him off to a doctor. He then
actually went to the phonebook and looked up psychiatrists. But he didn’t know where to begin.
He was lost.
He was on the verge of tears and
then when Britney had called a few minutes later, he didn’t even pick up. Instead he just stared at the cell phone
number on his caller id and waited for her to leave a message. She didn’t.
He was scared and alone. It finally hit him that this was a serious
problem, one he needed to deal with.
But how?
“Shit.” He said it out loud,
half at the situation he was in, and half at the slew of red lights popping up in
front of him. He was in the far left
lane and there was no way he was going to be able to crossed five lanes of
traffic. Less than five minutes later he
was stranded: stopped on the freeway with no where to go and nothing but his
thoughts to listen to. He tried drowning
them out, but they seemed to shout over the music and give him a headache.
He rested his head back, gripped
the steering wheel making his knuckles white and thought hard about what had
happened the night before in his dreams.
He had been staring at her all
night. He didn’t know if it was the
heavy smoke in the room or the noise but he had been having unusual
thoughts. She was talking with some
people he didn’t know. In fact, he
didn’t know most of the people there. It
was one of her parties, a college
party. He had gotten a few weird looks
but he had been with her to these places before, at least he thought. They were in his memory somewhere. A couple guys had come up and talked to him
and they seemed to know him, not in the celebrity way, but in the ‘hey, I’ve
met you before, how’s it going’ kind of way. He always felt a little out of place. He didn’t know what to talk about with these
people. They were busy talking about
football games and studying and other college things he was oblivious to. He tried to pipe in whenever they talked
about sports but for some reason he never did and could never think of what to
say.
A thought crossed his mind that
maybe this was a dream. But it was too
real. Realer than any others, even the
sex dreams. The people were real, the
place was real, and most importantly, she was
real. He didn’t get the floaty feeling
he didn’t with the other dreams. She was
in jeans and a button down red shirt with a white shirt underneath. She was talking with some other girls and
laughing with a
He pushed himself off the wall
that he seemed to have supported all night and grabbed her elbow. “We need to talk.”
“What?” She seemed a little shocked and confused.
“Come on.”
“What are you doing?” she asked as
he dragged her along. She turned to
shrug and wave at her friends.
He didn’t answer her. They walked out onto the small back patio
where a couple of guys were passing a joint.
Another couple was furiously making out on a lounge chair and another
guy was sitting on one smoking a cigarette and talking into a cell phone. He pulled her along until they were out in
the middle of the medium size backyard, close enough to not look suspicious but
far away enough so no one could hear them.
She looked at him with wide eyes
and said, “What the hell is going on, Justin?”
“I need to know if you are real.”
She stared at him for a few
seconds and then shook her head with a far away smile. “Ok, how much have you been drinking? Did you smoke some with Dennis?”
“No. Who is Dennis? Do I even know him? Where are we?
Are we even anywhere?” He asked
frantically, looking around at the scenery.
He watched as she backed away from
him a little scared, or so it seemed. “You’re
acting crazy.”
He didn’t care if he was making a
fool of himself. He needed to get to the
bottom of this. If it was real then he
needed some explaining. He had memories
of her but not complete ones. Was
Britney a dream? Was he still in a music
group? Was he himself? “No I’m not. You’ve, you’ve been haunting my dreams and
messing up my life for the past few years.
What the hell are you?”
She laughed and spoke slowly, like
she thought he was playing a game. “I’m you’re
girlfriend. At least I thought. I mean, we came here together, didn’t we? We left my apartment together. We got out of the same bed this morning and
took a shower together. Remember?” She
narrowed her eyes and cocked her head in a very maternal manner. “What are you
getting at, Justin? Are you mad because
Trey and I were talking earlier?”
“Who the hell is Trey?”
This time her laugh was
uncomfortable. “My ex-boyfriend! Remember the guy you punched about two months
ago because he tried to kiss me, like right in front of you.”
He put his hands on his head and
ran them through his hair. He was
getting a headache. “This doesn’t even
make sense. I don’t remember any of it.”
“Baby…you’re-you’re scaring me.” Her arm touched his lightly and he jumped.
“I’m scaring myself.”
Her look was now sincere, a little
frightened and worried. He thought maybe
he should just play along. What would
happen? Maybe it was a dream but when he’d
wake up she’d be there. Hopefully she’d
be there. But what
about Britney? Maybe he was
insane. “Do you wanna go home? We
can. I know you feel weird at these
parties but everyone likes you. I mean,
I kinda feel weird when I go to your famous people parties.”
He took a deep breath. At least his reality hadn’t been ripped from
him completely. “Ok, so I’m still in Nsync.”
“What?”
Or had it? “Wait, I’m not? Shit.”
“What are you talking about!? Of course you are!”
“How did we meet?”
Her arms were across her chest
now. He knew she wasn’t cold but she looked
it. He hated seeing her like this but he
had to do it. He knew of no other way to
figure out this mess of his head. “Through Trace.”
Trace? That’s not how he remembered meeting
her. Maybe, maybe she was lying. “Trace knows you?”
“Justin… Oh my
god!” This time she looked pissed
off and narrowed her eyes threateningly.
“Ya know,
you’re annoying me. Are you
playing games?”
“How’d we meet? Tell me.”
She sighed and looked up at the
sky for a minute before looking down at the ground and putting her hand on her
forehead. “At that
party a couple months ago.
Trace’s new girlfriend, remember? Helen, and I were
roommates freshmen year and she invited me and some other girls out to LA to
hang with her for a week since her and Trace rented that nice house for the
summer. We all went out to a club and
you were there and Trace introduced us.
You’ve got to remember this baby.”
He grabbed her shoulders. He didn’t believe her. She was making it up.
He was insane.
“What happened to my blow
out? What happened to us making love all
weekend and you listening to classical music and sitting on the porch?”
She pulled away from him looking
down at his hands that were gripping her upper arms. He could see the tears in her eyes but he didn’t
give a damn. He was tired of it. He felt he could strangle her. Her voice was tiny, “Justin, you- you’re
hurting me. Stop.”
“That’s how I remembered we met! Don’t
lie to me!”
“I hate classical music. And my apartment doesn’t have a porch. I have a tiny balcony. You know this!”
“Where are we?” He let her go and looked around the area,
turning in a circle. He recognized
nothing.
“
“Where?”
She paused for a moment and looked
around like she was searching for the answer.
“Uh, Vir-Virginia.”
“You aren’t real!” He gritted out, charging towards her.
She threw up her hands and gave
him attitude. “Ya know what? Fine!
You’re freaking me the hell out.
I’m going to get a drink.” With
that she turned around with him still stalking towards her.
“Wait, wait!” He ran towards her and whipped her around.
“What!” She yelled at him, ripping her arm out of his
grasp.
“Tell me one little thing.” He gritted down at her, staring at her
face. He was furious and he knew if he
got the answer he expected, she’d crumble.
That’s what he wanted. He wanted her to crumble and leave him
alone. It was all just too much.
“What Justin?!”
He smiled and whispered, “What’s your
name?”
Shock rushed over her features. “My name?”
“Yeah. What’s your name?”
“You-You’re psycho! You should know!” she stammered and started
to shake a little.
“Just say it and I’ll shut up and do
whatever you tell me.”
“I-“
“What?”
She started to get that look, that
look that girls got when they began to choke up. She began to swallow and look anywhere but him. Her nose curled up and her breath caught in
her throat. “I…”
He laughed happily and towered
over her. She sank down into the ground
and sobbed. “See! You don’t have
one. I told you. This is all just, in here.” He pointed to his head while he yelled. “None of this is real. You aren’t.
That house isn’t.” He pointed to
the house and realized the massive party that had been there had vanished. There wasn’t a single soul in site.
“But…I am! I- I am.”
She was heaped on the ground, hands covering her face, completely
defeated.
And he was angry. She was doing this to provoke him. She didn’t care. She was fake,
just in his imagination. “Why are you crying!”
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t expect her to say
that. “Wh- what?”
“I just, I just want to be with
you. I
love you.”
He started to laugh a scared laugh
and walked away from her for a moment so he could pace. “I can’t do
this. It...it
scares me.”
“I just want to be with you. Please, don’t push me away.” She crawled to him and wrapped her arms
around his legs, forcing him to say in place or fall down.
“You’re killing me here! I can’t, I can’t deal with you haunting me.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“Then why do you make these dreams
so damn real. So
fucking real that when I wake up I’m confused as hell.”
She shook her head, her cheeks wet
and her eyes squinting as they looked up at him. He started to feel bad. She looked helpless and he wondered maybe he
had taken this too far. But that was
stupid. This wasn’t real. None of it was real. “I don’t do it. I swear.
I just do what I’m told. I love
you Justin, please believe me.”
“This is too weird. It’s not real. None of it. I can make it go away.”
“Don’t send me away!”
He pulled his legs away from her death
grip and stumbled a bit but didn’t fall.
He started walking backwards, trying to form as much space as possible
between them. “You cause me too much
trouble. What’s the point? You don’t
have feelings. You’re life isn’t being
ruined because of this. You’re nothing!”
“But, I am real.”
He couldn’t handle it
anymore. It was making him crazy. He grabbed his head and closed his eyes. “Fucking shit! I can’t…just
wake up Justin. Just wake up, man.”
“You have to find me. I’m out there. Trust me.”
He shook his head again, not
daring to look at her. “You aren’t anything.
You can’t trust nothing.”
“You can trust love.” Her voice was quiet but he heard her clearly.
His heart stopped beating and when
he opened his eyes she was standing there, looking beautiful, like an
angel. That feeling in the pit of his
stomach started to bubble up. It was the
same feeling he had after he and Britney had lost their virginity
together. It was the feeling he had
during her birthday in the northeast at that spa. It was the feeling he had whenever he woke up
from these dreams. It was the feeling
but being completely overwhelmed with someone else, of being scared that you
love someone that much that you’re
terrified of losing them.
It couldn’t be. That was sickening. She was an addiction and he could get rid of
her. He just had to show her he was in
control. He had to be in control. “Love? This isn’t love. This is insanity. Infatuation. Obsession. It’s sick, that’s what it is.”
Anger flashed in her eyes and she
shrugged, “Fine. Whatever. See if I care.”
Then the dream turned. All control was swept away from him and he
felt like he was acting in slow motion and falling, but he wasn’t moving. His eyes widened and watched in horror when
out of no where she pulled out a handgun and pointed it at him.
She smiled, laughed quietly, and
then he heard a shot.
It was then when he woke up, sweat
streaming down his face, sheets smothering him, mouth gasping for air. He jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He threw up in the toilet and then leaned his
head against the cool wall.
It had gotten out of hand. He needed help. He knew what that dream meant: she would be
the death of him. She was out to destroy
his life. He had never really believed
in ghost, but then again never doubted that they existed either, and he
wondered if that was what she was. Was
he possessed?
But then again, maybe it was just
a nightmare. People had them all the
time and it was nothing to freak out about.
Five hours later, stuck only eight
miles from the exit for his house, he was still terrified.
It was just a dream. Nothing more or less, just something his
brain was thinking about while he slept.
But the effects were real and he
started to wonder if maybe his whole life was one dream, one big joke God had
decided to play on him. His life sucked.