destined to dream

She was a lost cause. Woke up late, ate too little, smoked too much. Her idea of a good time was isolating herself from the benign insolance of her peers by subjecting them to long-winded descriptions of her dreams. They fascinated her. While she slept whole worlds would open up and devour her reality. Aliens played red rover with daffodils and cops were ground into delicious hambuger meat. Of course, every time she recollected a dream, outloud with her indoor voice, her friends would mutter amongst themselves. Once she was even asked who her dealer was. Her response was simple, say no to drugs. This both confused and insulted him, standing there with a freshly lit spliff wedged between his fingers and a pocket weighed down by a powdery packet. She had smiled at that, knowing in her next dream he would reappear. Possibly as a marble soldier who would be crushed by a wayward gust of peppery wind.