While going through Dream’s vanity I finally found the courage to dispose of her old belongings, but as I got a whiff of them, I remembered...

___ 

     Yesterday, I had another nightmare.

     Just as I awoke, I saw Dream changing clothes.

     At first, I thought she was a reverie.

     How could I have known that later that day, she would be?

     Dream, she was his outlet; I was just a conduit.

     Commonsense should have told me to shut him down.

___

          Vroom, as soon as Electric knew it was afternoon, he zoomed into evening. He was making power-moves. The atmosphere was his.

     He’d been charging the whole-day, waiting for evening to roll-in. Waiting, for that sweeping-gust of power to surge through his nerves, that one which enabled him to light all dark-places. Waiting, to shine like he was meant to.
    As the sun dwindled, that time was now.

     Tonight, like any other, he was going to ‘Genesis’. His silver four-door sports-car purred as he halted at the intersection of Joule and Compliment. His foot smoothly pressed on the gas as his torso sunk-back while gliding onto Compliment.

     Hanging one arm out the window, he soaked the sun’s ever-waning-rays into his melanin. The dated brick-and-mortar architecture blends together in a blur as Electric zips down the strip.

     It wasn’t until reaching the initial bend of Providence, that bright neon-signs began to pollute the dusk.

___

     Electric the live-wire, he saw Dream as a conductor, and me as an insulator. For him, I was a grounding-force, one which crippled his vane-ambitions with paralytic-sentiment and righteous-indignation.

     Over the years he’d built up a buzz; siphoning Dream’s power, dampening her brilliance. Still, he felt dull by comparison. How many circuits had he shorted, or fuses had he blown, trying to match her energy?

___

     Electric exited his vehicle, amped.

     With a jolt, he stood up. “What up!” he shouted. Imagining flattery would appeal to her vanity, he then looked Dream up-and-down and said, “Damn.”

     With one hand on her head, and that head in a crown, Dream struck a pose as though she expected a camera-flash. “Excuse me,” she then said as she walked past.

      ‘Stunning,’ Electric thought with a second-glance.

     Clamoring, he went running to grab her.

     She retracted backwards.

     I remember thinking, ‘that’s my Dream.’ 

     Electric could no-longer flow with the current.

     His anxieties started humming.  

___

     Hastily, a segment of the shinny-yellow-countertop was caked in white-powder. The opaque-eggshell-plant-material, appeared dull until held under the light. And then, when it was, it twinkled like the night’s sky. As Electric tediously chopped it into lines, he asked Dream if she wanted one.

     She declined.

     “Nah, I’m alright,” she feigned.

     “I’m already alive!” she exclaimed.

     “I’ll wait for you outside,” she claimed.

     That is, until yesterday; when she grew tired of waiting.

     He must’ve thought Dream would bend and join him on his bender.

___ 

     He couldn’t find her outside, nor was she in the bar. He must have thought the bartender could tell him where she was. After the bartender shot-him in the wrong direction, he returned, asking more questions. 

     Learning lessons was not Electric strong-point.

___

     I never trusted Electric’s friends.

     Truth be told, I don’t think he did either.

     Dream called them peace-eaters.

     As evenings became long-winded and night descended, any-positivity was met with resistance. Those friends of his became problematic. When the laughter became cackling, static enveloped Electric’s surge-protectors.

     He grew… jittery.

     In a room of mismatched synergies, he was overloaded; on the verge of explosion. Corrosion had eaten-away his wiring.

     And, with Dream nowhere to be seen, Electric caught fire.

     Sparks flew.

___

     Eventually, he was just a burnout. His reserves had been depleted. His hard-drive; corrupted. His best-files; deleted.

     He had a virus, and his sinuses were always stinging. He spread this infection to my Dream. My love who would always sing, she got sick.

Her throat clenched.

Her breathing slowed.

Her heart stopped.

     The power-outage which followed, swallowed all brilliance. Goodbye, radiant resilience. So long, dazzling charisma. No more Electric; he didn’t survive the blackout.

     Flatline.

___

5/13/23, 4:42 PM

 

Compliment Road