The Transition I would truly admire chivalry from people nowadays. Mostly- well, because it is a forgotten virtue.

To be honest no one wants to be, or really cares to show that side of themselves. It was then that I put my thoughts aside for a moment and noticed that the day was beginning to fade. My anxiety was getting the better of me. What if I wont be able to do it again tonight? I say to myself quietly as I walk down the paved sidewalk of Cambridge Street. My pace quickened. The street, with its usual hustle and bustle, is eerily calm in a way that makes my bones quiver. Maple leaves from some nearby trees get tucked off their branches, finally free, and scatter around my feet in a tornado-like frenzy. Not that autumn really has this effect often, but I suppose its possible that everyone just wants to get comfortable in their warm homes I near my apartment, closer, a couple more meters to the stairs andI notice a shadow behind me. Not my shadow. One, that is, somewhat more A blur of motion and the attacker is on me with a clumsiness that isnt easily forgotten by those around him. Oh god, no. Friggin almost shat my pants you freak! I yell at him as I disengage his arms from around my waist and jab him in the gut so as to say back-off. I hate it when he does this. What happened to a lovely, Oh? Hey Kite! Oh my freaking God I havent seen you in so long! How was Russia? Was it as fantastic as all of the e-mails you sent to me that I never read or replied to? he says sarcastically in a way that makes me just want to punch him in the face. I was hoping his flight had been cancelled. So? he continues, What was that about? Did you really think I wouldnt be mad and freaking depressed that you werent replying? I even called your mom thinking you died or something! You know- Just stop okay? I say quickly, he was beginning to give me a headache, I told you before you left that I was okay with you traveling to Russia. But from that point on I thought I was clear with you Kite? I add that last bit earnestly hoping he catches on to what I was saying. Kite was good-looking, I have to admit. Damn it, I had dated the guy for six months before he went to Russia for a year. For the six months we were dating I felt so good about it, like I had finally made a good decision. Then I found out that he went to Russia in hopes of reconnecting with some friends. That was it. I let it go. It hurt but I survived, and apparently Kite managed to survive the flight. So much for my hopes of a plane crash, better luck next time.... Youre saying that were finished? He enunciates slowly. We were finished when you decided not to tell me what Russia was all about. I say curtly in frustration. Despite how loud I talk to him, I know that he wont even hear me. My bets are: hell end up at my doorstep, like a dog wagging its tail, waiting to go to Rideau to watch a movie as if I had never said anything at all. I shove him out of my way, looking back only once. When I do look back it, it hurts like the first time. His face, under his mane of gold-ish hair- is very sad. His eyes, a deep brown, unsettle me in a way that makes me look away immediately- slamming the door shut behind me. Breathing hard I realize that Im almost crying. I might lose a bet with myself. I hate it when I cry, it makes me feel weak. I try shaking it off before I go to pass my landladys rooms but to no avail. The tiger strikes.
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My goodness! she exclaims, Are you hurt? Can I get you a band-aid? Yes. I am, but no, I dont need a band-aid. It isnt that kind of hurt. But before I can announce my thoughts, she scurries into her apartment in search of the first-aid kit. I hurry after her. She is so nice but disturbingly fast for her age. Its quite unnerving. Dominique! No! Im okay, stop rushing around like a rabbit, Im fine. I shout to her from her living room. She comes walking out at a slower pace, realizing there isnt a dire need and that Im not actually dieing at the moment. Her questioning face clearly asks me, What happened? but before she can say anything I say to her, Dominique, you shouldnt worry about me but if you have to know, my classes at the university have changed, Im just frustrated is all. I shrug. Well, if thats the case then why didnt you say so?! she says to me softly, Well, no harm done then is there? Would you like some cookies? It might cheer you up, nothing like a good homemade cookie Id say. And mostly because you look like youre made up only of bones. She throws that in with a disdainful look on her face. The way she looks at me then makes me look at myself. I am not bones. Clearly I am just more fit than the obese nation of today. Probably also because Im a tad bit taller than everyone else, which, would make me seem thinner, especially for Mme. Pleurette who only stands at 50. Chuckling I retort, Ill take one if it makes you happy Dominique. She runs off again, very fast and is back in what seems like no time with a plate full of cookies and two glasses of milk as well. The smell is tantalizing and my mouth wants very badly to drool. Obviously I dont. Wow! These cookies smell so good I say to her as I take a glass along with two, of probably the best tasting cookies in all of Ottawa, Mm-mmm. You definitely have to give me the recipe! I exclaim, Seriously, these cookies are just, wow. Crumbs fall onto my green denim jacket. Oh-ho no, I will not, these things keep bringing you back, if I just gave you the recipe Id never see you. What a beautiful girl you are too! she says to me sweetly. I should go; I dont like having too much kindness, especially since I lied to her. A pang of guilt goes through me and as soon as Im finished my two cookies and milk, I take two more and roll them into a napkin. Id better go Mme. Pleurette. Its beginning to get late. Stop lying! Its only 8:00pm. I need to be rested for my classes tomorrow. As for the cookies, thank-you so much; you were right, I do feel a whole lot better. And I smile hoping it looks more convincing than how it feels. You know not to call me that, just Dominique, or even Dom, she says sternly as her eyebrows crease, And dont you worry ma chere, I didnt want to keep you too long. I just wanted to know how you were doing is all. Dom says as she escorts me to the door and pats my cheek, Good-night Siobhan dear, sweet dreams. Dom, I say equally as stern as she, Just Chevy, please. I walk up the staircase wondering, will my dreams be sweet, and as I near my door, I give up my last hopes in chivalry. If chivalry really existed, I would have experienced it by now. I think. As I unlocked my apartment, the anxiety that I had had before tonights fiasco, returns. Will I be able to dream again tonight?

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With my fingers crossed, I hope to god that Ill be able to control my dreams. Just because my life seems more out of control then usual, doesnt mean I am not strong. I have a will. I will find a way.

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Whats wrong? Im asked by him. But who is him? My dreams are the strangest things. Sometimes I wonder if the clarity that I have in them means that I am capable of intense cranial activity, or that Im crazy. One way or another, they are a reprieve from my life that is often times hectic. It doesnt really matter to me whether Im crazy or not Okay, it matters a little bit, but I just cant help it. Simply, I take immense pleasure from the imagination that is stored in my head. Dreams are so much better than watching a movie; better than reading a book- its your own entertainment. It is an entertainment where you are always included regardless of whether you are yourself or not. You see through the eyes of your imagination and are at the mercy of its whims. The only problem isyour dreams can be unpredictable My brow furrows as I come to the realization that Im actually dreaming. I am dreaming of that which is of great importance; namely me sitting on a bench. This is great; absolutely meaningful Where exactly my imagination has placed me- I cannot tell. A singular bench, situated in perhaps the Gatineau Hills? The voice- clearly masculinestarts talking to me again, Are you afraid? Why are you asking me all these questions? My dream self is compelled to ask a question in return. Several moments pass allowing me to begin to wonder whether the voice was a random glitch of some memories stored away; and then he continues, I brought you here, because you had questions you wanted answering. The silence thickens; the birds that had been chirping softly earlier begin to ebb. In the forest of moss and leaves in every direction, the colors are much more vibrant now than before. The anticipation builds; maybe he can help me Like any dream that I experience, Ive narrowed down the most common process or stage; calling it the Morph. The Morph consists of two dream pieces- one which is near the end of its screen time, allowing the next to begin changing the current ending of the previous. It is perhaps the most confusing interval of dream stages, and most dreamers cant maintain their logistical thought process; blanking out. Forgetting The green moss covered trees start to vibrate; they shift- and move. I close my eyes for what seems to be only a second- knowing that if I allow myself enough time to breathe and calm myself Ill be able to transition properly. I cannot afford to blank out, hes still here- I can feel it in the air. Yet, the inevitable happens and I do in fact blank out. It was just before actually blanking out- that the masculine voice began to hum. A face appeared then, one I had not seen before. Find him. He can answer your questions.

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Rule number One had always been that the dreams in themselves could not coincide with reality; but the question was, what if the rules have been broken? The moon was shining into my bedroom as I bolted upright.

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