I paint things as I see them and nothing much else, often finding my best inspiration by people watching in the city. A pair of teenage girls with ribbons in their hair strolling down the pavement, an old couple sitting at a small table enjoying coffee and reading, or a dog walker trying not to get tangled in the leashes as he travels down the crowded sidewalk. I draw and paint in a modest cafe bookstore on the corner every day afterschool. Always ordering a matcha latte and sitting at a little round table by the window facing the bustling street. Sometimes, I even do homework or read a book for a while, but I always make time to sketch. I practice daily, but never draw people I know because there’s simply less pressure that way.
Lately, I’ve also been sketching my dreams, at least the ones I remember. A midnight ball in a stainglass palace, a vibrant forest with exotic birds, a traveling circus in the sky, but mostly you. I don’t know who you are, yet you seem so familiar. You’re why I remember my dreams, and I'm beginning to wish you were real.
Last night, I dreamt I was invited to attend a gala for a prominent designer of otherworldly costumes that were often worn in peculiar yet successful movies. To attend, I wore an intricate sapphire gown that must’ve been from one of them. Strangely, the fabric texture shifted into a slightly tighter form as I nervously approached the entry. Just before stepping through the vast archway, the doorman announced I wasn’t able to be admitted until my guest arrived. I grew slightly flustered for a moment until I felt a light hand on my lower back. “Sorry I’m late, darling, I was picking this up for you.” I turned to see your copper eyes flicker with amusement as you held up a thin gold chain adorned with a simple teardrop pendant. As soon as the necklace was clasped my dress magically transformed into a silk scarlet evening gown, the pendant now a shining red to match. No one seemed surprised, and the doorman politely ushered us into the flowering venue.
Sitting at my usual table sketching this out, I noticed the cafe was buzzing. Your outfit had been a classy black suit as you said you preferred to match me either way. Realizing that I never got your name in my dreams, I wondered what it would be.
The entry bell jingles, signaling a new customer entering from outside. I keep at my work until I hear them start to order. That voice, I know it from somewhere. Shoot! Maybe its someone from school. I hunch down, trying to hide my face and appear focused. The barista asks for a name.
“Callum”
Wait.
“Is this to go or for here, Callum?” “Here, thank you”
I hear footsteps,
“Pardon me, is this seat taken?” “No,” I look up,
Copper eyes
“Its you.”
“I remember you.”