Dream Come True
by Shawn Yager

 

 

Brian climbed down under the bridge, where it was dark, because there was something shiny down there that he wanted. 

Now that he was down there, he was scared.  He didn't want to get jumped by a horde of angry homeless people.  He didn't want to get slurped up by raging mutated fish.  Those were the two things he was most afraid of as he was down on the embankment, shining his cellphone flashlight among weeds, broken bottles, and other assorted trash. 

He was looking for something shiny that he had noticed as he walked across the bridge.  A glint of light reflecting off the shiny thing had caught his eye. 

"Shiny thing/shiny thing/shiny shiny shiny thing," he sang as he searched.  "I am attracted to shiny things!"

There was something else about it that had sparked his interest.  The shiny-thing-part of his brain said "shiny thing/shiny thing/shiny shiny shiny thing."  There was another part of his brain that said, "Hmmm, that looks interesting.  It may be of some value.  Maybe I can sell it!" 

Brian wasn't far from becoming an angry homeless person himself.   If such an angry horde of homeless people were to jump him, they would become even angrier when they discovered that he had maybe a dollar in his wallet, didn't wear a watch, and his cellphone was an out-dated piece of trash. 

Having cash on hand was a luxury Brian couldn't afford.  He would have to scrape change  from underneath the seat cushions just to buy a cup of coffee at the elitist coffee shop that he wanted to check out.  There was always the same attractive woman at the counter.  He didn't know her name, so he called her Vallery.  Almost daily, he walked by just to look through the coffee shop window.  It was like in those movies where the dirty homeless kid walks past the high-end restaurant and stops to watch the fancy people eat and laugh.  Their mouths full of succulent meat, and delicious wine. 

He could only gaze through the window for so long before he felt that if he stood there much longer, Vallery would come out with a broom.  Shoo him away, or, worse, call the cops.  At that point, he walked off.  Of course, if she ever did come out and shoo him away with a broom, he wouldn't take it personally.

"Someday, somehow," Brian thought, tearing himself away from watching Vallery pour coffee and smile at customers, "I will go in there, and I will buy a cup of coffee and, and, not just a cup of coffee, but also a cheese danish.  Yes, some day I will go in there, and I will buy a cup of coffee and a cheese danish.  I can see it now.  Vallery pours the coffee into a mug.  The steam rises between us, making her beauty fleeting, like the moment.   The odor of fresh brewed coffee is intoxicating, and we become intoxicated by our mutual attraction.  Vallery reaches into the display counter, pulls out the biggest cheese danish of the lot, and places it on a plate next to the coffee.  She tells me how much money I owe.  Probably, I would guess, around nine dollars and seventy-seven cents, and I am right.  I willingly, enthusiastically, pull out my wallet, and hand Vallery, my soul-mate, my coffee-mate, a ten dollar bill.  She rings up my order, and gives me back my change.  I willingly, enthusiastically, lovingly, place all of the change in the tip jar, sad that I cannot leave more.  That is my dream." 

His dream continued. 

"I take my coffee and cheese danish to a table next to the window.  I watch people walk by, and I also watch Vallery do her job, but not in some kind of obsessive, creepy way.  I fantasize about how I should ask her out, and our lives together." 

It was a recurring dream that made him ache with longing.  So achievable for people who weren't one step from being homeless.  Not so easy for people like him, one step from joining the angry horde. 

Brian pinned a lot of hopes on finding this shiny thing.  

Sure, he could sympathize with the angry homeless people; he would be angry, too, if he were actually homeless.  The angry mutated fish, sure, he could sympathize with them as well.  They didn't choose to undergo any mutations.  It was environmental, brought on by human interference (of course).  The contrarian may say that the fish were just evolving, which, that may be as well.  But we all know how humans interfere with natural processes. 

Brian looked through tall grass on the embankment, using a stick he had found to help him, and there it was.  It sure was shiny! 

Reaching down to grab the shiny thing, his shiny-thing-brain said "Yes/shiny thing/shiny thing/ shiny shiny shiny thing," while another part of his brain said, "Coffee and danish/coffee and danish," and third part of his brain said, "Vallery/Vallery/Vallery!" 

He couldn't determine what the shiny thing actually was until he brought it up close enough to examine.  It was a twisted piece of metal that, at one point, had been attached to a vehicle.  Most likely, it was worthless. 

He thought of tossing it into the river, but didn't.  He thought of tossing himself into the river, but didn’t. 

With the twisted piece of shiny metal in his hand, Brian climbed the embankment back onto the sidewalk.  He was confronted by a horde of angry homeless people.

He ran in the opposite direction, until he came to the business district.  He hid around a corner, like the crooks do in the movies, and peeked to see if he was being followed.  He only saw people dressed for work in their elitist clothing.  Breathing a sigh of relief, Brian went to a nearby ATM to check his balance.  Fifteen dollars and seventy-seven cents.  He withdrew ten dollars, putting the money and the receipt in his wallet.  He had placed the shiny metal thing on the ground, but then picked it up and started walking. 

Brian knew where he wanted to spend his last ten dollars.  At the next intersection, he turned left, and walked a couple of blocks to the elitist coffee shop of his dreams.  Before entering, he stopped. 

You have to do everything from now on with intention, he told himeself, to savor what you are about to experience. 

"Hi," he said to the attractive woman behind the counter.  It was Vallery.  His palms were cold and sweaty.  "Could I have a coffee and a cheese danish, please?'

"Of course," Vallery said, with the most beautiful voice Brian had ever heard, as she poured his coffee.  She pulled a cheese danish from the back of the display counter.  Brian noticed that she had a sticker on her shirt that read "Hi!  I'm Vallery!"

"Is that really your name?" he asked her.

"Sure is," she said, as if she got that question all the time.

"I love that name!"

"Awww, thank you!"  She said.  "I love it, too.  Can I get you anything else? 

"How about your phone number?" Brian thought.  "That'll do it," he said.

"That comes to seven seventy two." 

He handed her his recently withdrawn ten dollar bill.  Vallery handed him back his change.  Her fingertips touched his palm. 

Unlike in his dreams, Brian did not throw all of his change into the tip jar. 

"Oh, this is for you," Brian said, handing her the shiny metal thing.  "It's a gift." 

Vallery smiled at him.  "Thank you!" she said.  "No one's ever given me anything like this before!"  She turned around and placed the shiny metal thing on a shelf behind her, between an antique coffee maker and a burlap sack filled with coffee beans.

Brian walked over to a seat by the window, and placed his coffee and danish on the table.  His dream had come true.

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