an argument for the pointlessness of crushes.

Two nights ago, I dreamed about a boy I know…a boy I have had a (most likely) irrational crush on for a few months.   I run into him on the patio at the Doug Fir (note:  this guy does not live on the West Coast).  We are talking and I am trying to be aloof.  I am silently talking myself out of liking him.  “I don’t care if it’s ironic, I don’t like tucked-in shirts. ” Suddenly he mentions that he does not have a girlfriend any more.   

Super fast forward (literally…there are no steps in between)…we are in a room at the Jupiter Hotel and things are getting hot and heavy.  I’m almost too excited.  At one point, I think to myself, “I can’t believe I’m seeing him WITHOUT A SHIRT!!!”  
One entire wall of the room is comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows.  I can see a very modern city skyline, filled with blue glass skyscrapers.  However, I’m barely paying attention to the view. 
He’s lying on the bed and I’m straddling him and I’m practically on the verge of fainting because I can’t believe this is FINALLY HAPPENING…and then I hear an indescribably loud noise.  The building shakes.
A glance out the windows confirms my worst fears:  airplanes are falling out of the sky.  The skyscrapers in the distance are crumbling into sand.  I can hear people screaming and running…and then just disappearing.
I woke up terrified, momentarily confused about where I was.  
I should add that most of my apocalyptic dreams begin at the Doug Fir.  

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