eyedreamism_ii eyedream I was sitting in the lounge of the café, letting my eyes wander into space and feeling the steam of my cappuccino curl upwards and around, warming my face and fogging up the lenses of my amber glasses. I occasionally paused to take a sip, but without any particular necessity. The man who made this place was a master of ambience (or as others would put it, vibe). Cell phones were not only banned, but the type of people who owned them were discouraged from entering the atmosphere. Nobody here had any long-term goals, nor short-term wants; they had no variables or policies or designations, and there was an appalling lack of synergy. This place was solely for the dreamers who would inevitably spend (or as others would put it, waste) an afternoon staring into nothingness and preferred to do it with others who understood the sanctity of this activity (or as others would put it, inactivity). My slack was tainted, however, because I was becoming increasingly irritated by a good-looking young man who had let himself in, sprawled good-naturedly on the couch opposite my round armchair, newspaper in hand—he was not a regular; no regulars at the café had any interest in the outside world’s political melodramas, nor in long columns of stock quotations, nor in terrifying editorials about the type of airborne disease that is always accompanied by an initial symptom of paranoia. The young man fingered his paper innocently, but he looked over the top of the pages at me in a mischievous way, a smile playing over his eyes. At first I averted his gaze, then out of sheer exasperation I met it, annoyed with myself that I had acknowledged his presence. I opened my mouth to snap at him, but before I could, he said in a low drawl—“Does God have a sense of humour?” “What is this?” I asked sharply. “A riddle, or a pick-up line?” “An honest question,” he said, lowering his paper fully so that I could see that he was looking at me coolly, no hint of the impish little boy I had thought I was facing. “I don’t know,” I said irritably, “I’m agnostic.” He shrugged mildly, not displeased. “Have it your own way, then.” “Oh, Christ!” I said, rolling my eyes and maddened that I was falling for such an obvious ploy to make me curious about the source of his question. “Why?” He lifted an espresso to his lips, taking a long sip, and then carefully set it down on the coffee table between us. Then he spent a half minute meticulously folding his paper and pushing it into a canvas satchel beside him on the couch. Finally he met my eyes again. He took a long breath. “Why what?” I struggled with my rage, knotting my hands together before finally inhaling and exhaling deeply. Very slowly, I said, “Why…did…you…ask…if…God…has…” “Because,” he interrupted, smiling again, “I wanted to know your thoughts on the subject.” “Well then!” I stammered stupidly. “I don’t suppose YOU have any thoughts on the subject, then!” “As a matter of fact, I do.” He said, leaning back and taking another sip of his coffee. I waited for his answer, but he said nothing, only grinned at me. He was reaching in his satchel for his newspaper again. Despairingly, I realized that he had no intention of saying anything else. I tapped my foot on the floor. “Well, what are they?” “What are wh—” “Your THOUGHTS, for chrissake, what are your thoughts on the subject?” He shifted forward, looking me in the eyes intensely, and then said in an urgent voice, “I think that God has a sense of humour.” Then he eased backwards again, calmly, as though satisfied with this accomplishment. “Why?” I asked. And then, remembering, “Why do you think that?” Again he shifted forward, like an absurd holy man wishing to bestow some precious drop of wisdom. “I’ll tell you,” he said. “But I must whisper it.” I sensed a possible prank coming but leaned forward despite myself. He also leaned forward, turning his head to my right ear. “The platypus.” he whispered. I jolted, laughing out loud. He looked wounded, then smiled despite himself. He extended a hand, poking me in the ribs. I yelped. “What was that for?” I shouted, knowing that the soft delayed movements of the other café-goers would be stirred out of their dreams because of my clamour. “You should move back after saying things, as I do.” he said. “Then you will never be assaulted in the ribs by someone attempting to shake your hand.” “You moron,” I said. “If you had extended your arm less in the first place, you wouldn’t have assaulted me.” “Interesting theory,” he said, “Just so crazy it might work, as they say. Touché. Shall we try it?” “Try what?” I said. “The theory,” he replied, looking at me as though I were an idiot. “Which one?” As he began to get annoyed with me, he jumped, realizing what I had done. “You use my own sword against me!” he cried out, applauding me in approval, his face stretching into a delighted grin. “Well done! Well done indeed.” I extended my hand, poking him in the eye. He smiled. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, gingerly rubbing his eyelid. “My name is Ethan.” blushes 030711 ... endless desire any larger of a smile right now would not fit on my face, or anyones, for that matter. well done well done well done. the second i saw the title, i came running. you are brilliant. 030711 ... watcher wonderful 030711 ... eyedream I was so terrified that this would ruin the original eyedreamism. It didn't ruin it for me, but you never know with audiences. Sometimes they throw unexpected tomatoes. sits nonchalantly 030712 ... birdmad i like it. 030712 ... watcher throws a tomato of appreciation 030713 ... ferret takes a tomatoe, stares at it, stares some more, "wow, this tomatoe is really interesting! look! a bug! eww!" pulls bug off of tomatoe, looks at eyedream, looks at tomatoe, eats bug..... oops! 030713 ... sixteen i like it as well. Have you seen dogma? that platypus thing in there reminded me of it. 030713 ... watcher wonders why Ethan had a newspaper 030810 ... screwing for virginity ::applause:: i have the biggest grin on my face i have had in weeks. that was great. 030811 ... p.s. that is my dream café. 030811 ... misstree i actually read these in reverse order... i like this one very much, and you'll have to take my word on that as i must cut my comments off here. 030811 ... oldephebe eyedream - nice peice of writing. witty, wry, subversive, a nice bit of transcribed reparte. I wish my conversations, or preludes to the platonic or intimate went so well really liked it 030811 ... User24 love the cafe, I need one locally! the character interaction was addictive, I really needed to know what was going to happen, was this a story about the girl, the attractive guy merely a distraction, or was the focus elsewhere entirely? in the end, I was pleasantly suprised at the link between this and eyedreamism, I await number three avidly, and do hope you'll induldge us a third time thankyou. 030815 ... Whitechocolatewalrus deliciously wonderful 031118 ... e *smiles* 040331 ... ethereal *smiles* (again) 040331 ... magicforest This one will undergo the most dramatic changes, I am afraid... 040331 ... u24 changes? 040628 what's it to you? who go blather from