Nightmare On North Pine Street

(Or maybe it’s “Inception”.  Either way, somebody is screwing up my dreams and I don’t know what to do about it.)

So Alessandro and I have officially decided that we’re gonna get engaged once he gets a proper engineering job and saves up enough money for a ring (please hold your excitement and congratulations for the post where we actually get engaged and I have a giant-ass diamond on my finger).  What’s bothering me though is that someone I haven’t seen or thought about in YEARS keeps showing up in my dreams like Freddy-stupid-Krueger.  Like I don’t know this person anymore, I have no idea what they’re doing with their life, I don’t even know what they look like now.

(In fact, he could actually look like Freddy Krueger.  Maybe he was in some type of fire incident that involved him killing little kids and the townspeople taking their revenge?  Or he could look perfect and handsome, exactly as I remember him but now grown up so perhaps better.  The point is I have no idea and shouldn’t even care because I am happy with the person I’m about to spend my life with SO WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME???????)

The story of this person infecting my life begins with myself at the tender age of 12, attending my first track practice of the year in early March. I actually took a year off from my little private school to see what public school was like and was only on my old school’s track team because the public school didn’t have a track team for 6th graders. I had also finally gotten out of my awkward stage, grown 5 inches, and (if I do say so myself) achieved quite the little body in six-grader standards. Plus, my bangs had finally grown out from the year before which taught me a great life lesson about never ever getting bangs ever again.

The first day of practice was freezing cold and even my heavy sweatshirt and thick sweatpants couldn’t keep out the piercing wind. I met one of my friends on the hill overlooking the track to chatter about nonsense and current 6th grade gossip when I made the unfortunate mistake of looking down onto the football field. 200 yards away (maybe, I have no ability to judge distance) I locked eyes with the single most perfect human being I had ever seen (he even put 2005-era Chad Michael Murray and Ashton Kutcher to shame). While my friend rambled on about whatever it was (I wasn’t listening), me and this demigod continued look deeply (and from far away) into each other’s eyes and I couldn’t feel the bitter cold anymore. I interrupted my friend asking, “Who is THAT?!?!” She looked down at the young man also standing with a friend and said, “That guy? Oh that’s [yeah-right-I’m-not-saying-his-name-I-know-who-reads-this-now-and-you’re-probably-all-laughing-at-me-cause-you-know-exactly-who-it-is]. He’s friends with my brother.” My very first words regarding this person was my reply: “I’m going to have his babies.”

(Sixth-grade-Alanna was quite the little minx and very brazen. She also had recently learned what sex was due to her newly-found public school education and something called “health class”, otherwise unheard of in Catholic school.)

My friend got all excited because this type of news was her oxygen and she continued to support me through the years of ups and downs from my perilous unrequited love.

Flash forward to 9th grade (since then, I’m still crushing hard and have reentered Catholic school), the first day of high school, first period Latin class: I’m wearing my “cool” new uniform and am feeling all grown up, ready to take on the world and let the real learning begin because nothing could distract me from my pursuit of higher education. I was pretty nervous so I wasn’t actually looking at anybody as the rest of the class filed in. When it came time for our teacher to assign seats, she said, “Okay, [I’m-still-not-saying-his-name]? Switch seats with Alanna, that’ll be your desk.” I didn’t think anything of the name since it’s pretty common and got up to let this person take my seat. The kid behind me gets up and our bodies touch as he passes by me in the narrow aisle and I almost faint because the boy I’ve been obsessed with for 2 years was totally within kissing distance not 5 seconds ago. My brain stopped working for what seemed like a short time but was apparently a while, and I wasn’t roused from my standing-coma until the second, “Alanna? Your seat is behind [this-is-getting-embarrassing-but-as-you-all-know-I’m-too-candid-for-my-own-good]. Isn’t that funny? You two were sitting in each other’s assigned seats totally by coincidence!” He turned around and smiled at me (fully aware of the crush I’d been harboring for him all this time) and for the rest of class, I didn’t hear a word anyone said except his, all of which made me blush to the point where my face was the same color as my hair.

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This is our only picture together.  What a cute couple lolamirite?

I continued to be in love with him until November of my 11th grade year when I made the conscious decision to fall out of love with him. I changed up all the ways I walked in the halls so as not to see him between classes, I stopped going to lunch and study hall (he was in all of mine because the universe has a sick sense of humor), and I avoided all school events he was likely to attend as well as stopping going to church because our families always went to the same mass. Eventually, I stopped thinking about him and met my very first boyfriend. That year, my crush graduated and other than a couple times watching Penn State football games and a few Christmas masses, I haven’t seen him again.

Until about a month ago, that is. And not in real life either. Just whenever I go to sleep.

I’ve actually tried staying up days at a time, but when I finally fall asleep, the dreams are longer and more vivid than ever. I have no idea what’s happening but it needs to stop. It’s actually come to the point where I wake up and am surprised by Alessandro being next to me instead of him. Maybe I should re-watch the “Nightmare on Elm Street” movies and see how those kids handled it. (Although I’m pretty sure they all either killed themselves or got locked up in insane asylums. If I stop blogging, you guys know where I am.)

Alanna and Freddy Kreuger Nightmare of Elm Street

So why is this happening?  Can somebody dig up Freud to help me?  At this point, I’d kill for a night of tossing and turning over ghosts or killers.  High school is truly to be feared…