Sweet Neon

I keep having dreams about this girl named Rebecca. She wears dark-rimmed glasses and has short brown hair worn in a bob. She has a smile that makes you feel like the only person in the room. She loves reading obscure underground novels and writing first-person narrtives in her spare time. She also has a nasty habit of whoring herself in unmentionable ways for college money. One day she winds up a wee bit preggers and everyone she hangs out with abandons her. This sudden abandonment causes Rebecca to slit her wrists, killing them both.

Throughout the dream I find myself falling in love with Rebecca, despite the fact that we've never met anywhere outside of this dream. Even after watching her do the things she does, I can't help myself. I'm sorry that I can't go into too much depth here - the details of the events that took place are simply too disgusting to share.

In addition, there is an unmarked notebook that gets passed from person to person throughout the duration of my dream. It holds everyone's most interpersonal thoughts, fears and dreams. Each entry is typed, making the notebook legible for everyone to read.

Rebecca's last entry: "Tonight the stars are less bright. Death is coming, so let me go. You can't love a ghost."

Throughout the dream Rebecca and I find random quotes written on scraps of paper scattered everywhere we go. Neither of us have any idea who they are written by, but after comparing handwriting conclude that the quotes are all written by the same person, possibly a time traveller. One quote that sticks out in my mind was found by Rebecca, crumpled-up and left on the basketball courts after school.

"Life is a series of losses. They build up over time and make us who we are. Just make sure you pick the right losses."

When I awoke I wanted so badly to add to the notebook, but seeing as this notebook does not exist outside of my unconsciousness, I grabbed the biggest marker I could find and wrote my sentiment on the nearest bare wall. When I came home I dyed my hair the darkest colour I could find. A darkness that would put the night sky to shame and suffocate the brightest halo.

"Angela . . . the bridge burns itself."