The encounter

Something shocking happened the other night. Anyone who does not already know I'm a scatterbrain and does not wish to know the truth - you may wish to ignore the following. Anyone who feels comfortable with the alternative arrangement, read on.

He stood in a room filled with people. Faces he knew well chatted with others he didn't. Some faces he thought he recognized yet to which he could not affix names flitted through the crowd as well. But whether old friends or acquaintances, none of the eyes of those faces glanced at him. Feeling lost, he thought it was a mistake to come to this place, but knew he must have come for a reason, even though he couldn't remember what that was.
An awareness between his shoulders made him turn. Just as though he had spoken her name, she turned at the same moment. His breath caught when he saw her face as though seeing her for the first time, like a phantom always on the edge of his vision but never there when he looked. As she gazed at him, she was all at once a stranger and someone he knew very well his entire life. It seemed the room was empty save for her.
"Rue," she breathed, her eyes softening. The word felt like a caress. He could feel the flesh pebbling on his arms. His vision narrowed and he felt as though he was floating backwards watching something happening to someone else. He couldn't breathe.
Her gaze faltered and dropped to the floor.
Seeming to gather herself she looked up and drew closer. She was too close and yet he couldn't move; his feet were rooted in place. She smiled apologetically. "I have this thing for you."
He couldn't think, it was as though he could only watch as though detached. "Uh... thanks," he heard himself say awkwardly. "I like things. But my birthday has already passed."
"Oh," she looked disappointed as though she'd expected him to say something else. She stepped back looking away. "I have to..."
He never found out what it was she had to do, because she turned and slipped away without completing the phrase. His awareness crashed back into itself and the room was suddenly full of people again.
For a fleeting moment he thought he should call after her. He didn't know why he didn't.

When I woke up, I couldn't help but marvel. Even when I'm asleep, I'm a complete idiot. At least that fact was one realistic bit in a generally doubtful dream.
I wonder what Freud would say. Maybe that love is right under my nose and I've failed to see. That, or he'd say it's some convoluted sign that I'm going to call my mother tomorrow.