dream # ___, male

"I'm not into this," I said, my voice echoing enough to raise a cacophonous choir from the hallway. I didn't realize where I was at first, but then I saw the ball zooming toward my head from brightly-colored rafters above. It wasn't until I heard its torpedo-like speed that I moved, a slice of green grazing my face, and I though as I slow-motion landed on the floor, "I wonder if I have a green sideburn now? Maybe I should face the other direction..."

Buddy giggled and walked over to the other side of the racket-ball court/room to pour himself some alcoholic concoction while sharpshinyclaws giggled madly, out of breath but smiling a beautiful white smile no less. Someone else was there, but I don't recall who it was. A man, but he was distant, not very involved. Not yet.

My knees were skinned on the waxy floor, a pain I knew should have been bad, but I didn't really feel it. Still, I knew they all liked the thrill of the game, so I pretended to hurt, and held my knees while wincing.

Laughter roared through the gymnasium, and sharpshinyclaws said something about carrying on, no matter what. The man became Jim Love, and he dragged off a greasy cigarette, eying me, craziness ready to burst from those eyes. He heard sharpshinyclaws, sucked his smoke in deeply and then, blowing it out as hard as he could toward me - a seemingly helpless me to his eyes - he said, "Yeah, come on and git off yer fat ass to play some more ball."

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