Out of three million hits, I open a random article on the first page of results and begin to read.
Since the days of Aristotle, experts have been looking into the meaning of dreams.
I can’t say I ever have.
But it's not an exact science. Much like the weird and wonderful variety of dreams, there are also many schools of thought in the thinking and studying of dreams.
Some people must have way too much time on their hands.
No one can truly say they have the right answer, but today’s leading experts in the field have offered assumptions—their best guesses, as it were—on the meaning behind specific dreams.
That’s not really what I asked, but hey ho.
George Mallard, a licensed psychotherapist and dream analyst—a quack title if I ever heard one—believes dreams play a substantial role in our lives. Many therapists believe that dreams are compensatory—
Now, that I can believe. It’s not like there’s an abundance of sex going on in my life right now.
—and that dreams are not random or meaningless but have a purpose, which is to bring that from the unconscious into consciousness. In fact—
I close the webpage with a big fatnope.That’s a can of worms that is neither safe nor sane. I don’t want to know what thoughts my subconscious is trying to bring to the light, especially not where Archer is concerned.
I know all I need to know about that man!
I know he irks me more than anyone else ever has, and that’s saying something as I must have one of the most annoying brothers in the world! I also know he’s irresistible to womenkind, and that despite his whorey ways, women flock to him. But that’s the evolution of you, driving women into the arms of men whose biology sings our siren song.
I click the maximise button, my laptop screen filling with the image of another handsome man, and the booking form request for next Saturday, which is only half complete. With a small spike of discomfort, I close the webpage, relegating it to internet history before dunking the remains of my Kit Kat into my tea until it’s good and soggy. The truth is, Archer might be a horrible person, or he might be the nicest man in the entire world, and while it’s also true thinking about kissing him makes me feel all kinds of shivery, none of that is important. Because all that matters, all I should be focussing on is if he’ll agree to my new plan for Saturday.
If he knows what’s good for him, he will.
6
Heather
‘Twice in one day.The gods must be smiling down on me.’
In order to bestow a withering look on Archer, I stop my contemplation of the salads on display inPret a Manger, the yummy sandwich shop chain conveniently located close to all good London office buildings.
‘And by that reckoning, I must’ve been Imelda Marcos in a previous life.’
‘Because you like shoes?’ He attempts to master a budding smile, his gaze flicking down to my navy blue and cream Mary Janes that are more Miss Marple than Miss Sex Pot. Not that you’d think so by my body’s reaction.
Allof the tingles inallof the places.
‘No, because I’m being punished for prior misdeeds.’
His smile deepens, though he dips his head as though to spare me the sight of it when I get the odd sense of wanting his smiles to only ever be for me—and I want it more than I want the roasted squash salad I reach for in a sudden tiny freak-out.Remember what Allison said. Think of it as a cautionary tale, I tell myself. And not because she’s the expert on what’s good for me but because there’s always a witch who issues portentous warnings in all good fairy tales. Not that my life is a fairy tale, but there will be an element of make-believe in it next Saturday.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.’ It sounds like a complaint as I grab a bottle of juice before joining the queue, hoping that the distance between us might give me a little clarity.All that thinking and googling in my office has me on edge. Should I ambush him now, or can I summon the nerve to put it to him over a drink after work?
But I’d have to invite him first.
And then he might get the wrong idea.
Or laugh in my face.
‘Is that your version of do you come here often?’
‘You wish.’ Two more words from my own mouth, escaped with little thought.
