A Choice

A Choice
He loved her in the way that she had always dreamed of being loved. He kissed her forehead and called her sweet names. It was always a little funny to her when he did, because he didn’t look like the type to do these things. Covered in tattoos and piercings, he appeared to be playing the part of a stereotypical “bad boy”. She loved that when he was with her, he was reduced to a gentle, affectionate creature.
It was night, and they had spent a lovely day playing house. She’d made him dinner, and they’d eaten in front of Saturday night television. Now, it was time to slip into his room and sleep. Strangely enough, they actually did sleep. The couple had decided to be truly old fashioned and wait until their wedding night to consummate their relationship. Wearing his warm, secure pajamas, she snuggled into his safe, soft bed and watched him take off his shirt. His body was long and lean, and it filled her with the desire to touch him gently and sweetly.
He climbed into the bed and snuggled up to her in the most wonderful way, giving her soft kisses and whispering how much he loved her. Soon, they were both asleep, and she began to dream. The dream started off innocently enough. She was walking down a tree lined suburban street alone, but she didn’t feel alone, not really.
As she walked, the feeling increased. It was not a nice sensation at all. It was, she decided, the feeling one often has when dining alone. Even though people at other tables are engrossed in conversation and mastication, the solo diner still feels self-conscious and watched. They take extra care with their cutting and chewing and feel conspicuous and hyper aware of their own thoughts. So different is the feeling of sitting at home in front of the television, crunching loudly and drinking straight from the container.
In her sleep, she made soft utterances, but in her dream she started to run. She wasn’t sure why her dream self ran, maybe it was to get away from whatever was hindering her. It seemed to work for a bit, but the dreamer’s discomfort increased when she realized that all the houses looked exactly the same, though slightly different activities were occurring on the front lawns and inside the houses themselves.
On one lawn, children ran through the sprinklers, laughing loudly and showing no concern for anyone but themselves. On another, a couple were having a silly fight, yelling and screaming, but doing so in a way that seemed perfunctory. Still, she passed more homes. Glimpses in windows revealed people eating dinner without speaking. She watched a wife snuggled up to her husband and trying for a kiss but being ignored in favor of a television screen. She was unable to gaze into a few of the houses because bars covered the doors and windows. These images scared her very much. They were all so mundane and pointless, but they seemed to constitute these people’s entire lives.
Suddenly, she found herself facing a house that she instinctively knew to be her own. Nervous, she walked up to the door and walked inside. Before she could take in what awaited her, she awoke with a start and a stifled scream
The man she was nestled with stirred long enough to kiss her cheek, but it didn’t feel as it had before. His arms around her were no longer safe and sweet but possessive and hungry. The diamond glinting on her left hand felt uncomfortably tight. She really wanted to push him away, drive home, and curl up in her own bed, but fear gripped her. The tight embrace was unpleasant, but sleeping alone wasn’t her idea of happiness either, and she did love the man who slept beside her. Too afraid to leave, but not really wanting to stay, she opted to simply slide out of his arms and find more room for herself. This left them touching, but not clutching, and she was somewhat more content.
As she drifted off to sleep for the second time that night, her only wish was that she’d surpass the odds and live a life that was at least a little different from her dream.