He was ugly, and he was short, and so she knew that this was not one of her lucid dreaming sessions. He cocked his head, arms stttretched to hold the top bar on the subway. She exited and he followed.
“Excuse me!”
She hastened her steps.
“Hey girl!”
She turned around. “I’m not a g—“
He was holding up something of hers, wearing a smirk, and he scoffed. “You left your scarf.”
“—irl.”
She grabbed it, face softened. “S-sorry. Thanks.”
She turned to leave. He grabbed her arm. She looked disgusted. “Um, ’scuse me?”
“You’re beautiful…”
“You’re beautiful,” said Jaleel. “But you could lose a few pounds.”
She turned toward him in her queen-sized bed with pink satin sheets in her huge penthouse. Her waist length hair moved with her head. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just sayin’. You should do some yoga. Or something. We can do it together.”
He said the last word louder. TOGETHER. He was buff. She could never resist him. But not in this regard.
“No thanks, J.”
She awoke in her own bed back in Hell’s Kitchen.
Ugh. Lynn did say I’d be able to do this at home now. But this isn’t what I signed up for…
“But I’m supposed to control everything, right?”
“Yes, January. In time. Some things won’t be exactly as you like. But in time, you’ll learn to control—
“Stop telling me that!”
“Sorry January. It’s protocol.”
“Protocol, huh? He should tell me I’m beautiful, not beautiful, but!”
She grabbed her coat and left the office, slamming the door, rattling the framed certificates on either side.
She was on the train again, sitting alone. Mr. Scarf entered her car. He looked at her, recognized, approached, sat, smiled.
“You again?” She groaned.
He cocked his head to the right. “You’re beautiful.”
“Again??”
Her face registered confusion.
Just then, his face started changing, distorted at first, and then…changing. She closed her eyes and then opened them and then closed them and opened them, shocked. Now he looked just like Jaleel. Just like…
But… h-how? Am I lucid?
He extended an arm.
No, this is real.
“Hi,” he said. “Jaleel.”
