I've been dreaming
off and on
ever since sunrise
I woke up late
from a dream of her
She was skiing and stopped to play checkers with me
I was late to work
because I sat at a stop sign for five minutes
dreaming I was still at home
eating breakfast with her
I zoned out at 10:30
dreaming of the first time I met her
and again at 11:12
dreaming of the last time I saw her
Then at lunchtime
I was stopped in mid-chew
by a dream of when I took her flowers
after she broke her leg
stepping in a gopher hole
I had another dream at 2:30
that we were in our 80s
surrounded by kids and grandkids
I almost hit a car on the way home
because I heard her voice whispering in my ear
I burned my dinner
while dreaming of the third time we kissed
After that, I
let my food get cold
while I dreamed of a wedding that never happened
And I was doing the dishes
when a nightmare of her death
left me icy cold for 15 minutes
Throughout the rest of the evening
I relived those moments when
almost on a whim
I decided to break up with her
and damned myself forever as God's Own Idiot
and now the phone rings
I answer and it's her
She picked up my number from an old friend
She lives only a few towns away
"Let's get together" she says
"I've missed you so much"
I'm dreaming again
I must be dreaming
I must be

While many people would define Dream Girl as their most desirable star or perhaps a girl they lust over from a distance, I do not. My dream girl appears in my dreams, strangely enough.

She changes her appearance to a greater or lesser extent with every dream. I always identify her as the same girl, She never appears to me as different people. She sometimes looks similar to a past girlfriend, but mostly she appears as follows:

Her hair is almost always past shoulder length and varies from straight Japanese black to slightly curly blonde. She never seems to be less than 5 feet 6, and doesn't ever augment her height with big heels. She is never thin, and is often quite curvy with big hips and breasts. Noder's note: I'm just describing her how I dream her - She's not real and I know that

Her face is often hard to remember; more often I remember being captivated by all of her, far more than the face alone. If I had to describe her face, it would be somewhat like Sandra Bullock's, although that could be me trying to pidgeonhole her. Her eyes are always striking, no actress or model's eyes come close. Her eyes are piercing and expressive, if I say something to hurt her I can see every bit of damage in them.

Unfortunately, I cannot find words to describe her voice :-(

Nura Nal is Dream Girl's real name. Dream Girl comes from the planet Naltor. All the inhabitants of the planet have the ability to see the future with 100% accurancy. Most of these visions come in dreams, although they can be achieved through going into a trance.

Dream Girl joined the Legion of Super-Heroes and soon after had a vision that seven of the members would die in an explosion. She misinterpreted the dream, as they were actually robot doubles of the Legionaires, so she resigned soon after.

She joined the Legion of Substitute Heroes for a while, but later was rejoined the Legion in disguise under the name Miss Sterious, when Supergirl was forced to resign due to a Kryptonite cloud surrounding the Earth.

After proving herself a capable Legionaire, she revealed her true identity and was accepted into the Legion again under her own name.

She is romantically involved with Star Boy and is the sister to White Witch.

"Good afternoon."
I make a small effort to smile, I wonder how sincere I really look.
"Oh, Hi."
Ugh, she's taken a piece of Hot Cross Bun from the taster box before speaking, I hate that. She covers her mouth with her hand, and I can see her eyes are smiling, but only at herself. She does that bob-the-head-from-side-to-side-and-roll-the-eyes thing people do, as though they're trying to chew with their whole head. You're chewing, I get it. Now she's making the "just a second" gesture, but I've hardly noticed any of this; I've realised that I know this girl.
"Take your time."
PLEASE don't take your time. Oh thank god, she's finally finished chewing.
"Could I have a danish square please?"
She's pointing at them, pointing from the wrist; usually that annoys me, but she makes it graceful somehow (does she practice these things?). It's a hot Autumn day, but she's dressed like she just stepped in from the streets of Reykjavík. I've always liked it when women show less skin (I'm shocked to see so many girls not covering up their ankles these days, it's disgraceful).
"Sure."
I reach for a paper bag, but it won't separate from the others. I glance at her for a moment; I'm still trying to figure out who she is.
"That's $2.80 change, then. No, wait, just $2.80." I start mumbling. "You know what I mean."
Idiot. You're just lucky your face can't get any redder, or you'd look like a pimply tomato.
She chuckles as I pass her the danish and she passes me a $20 note. She has quite a deep voice, relatively speaking; I've always liked that in a woman (Squeaky voices are like nails on a chalkboard to me). I'm fumbling with the change, the $2 coins are right in the back corner of the drawer (whose bright idea was that?). I've taken to working out the change in my head, rather than letting the till tell me (I'm a regular Will Hunting, I am).
"OK, so that's $17.20 change."
My fingers brush her palm as I hand the change to her.
"Thanks."
I finally realise who she is. She's my dream girl. I've known her for as long as I can remember, but I haven't seen her in 6 years. I'm not sure exactly how old she is, but I suppose she must be in her early-mid-twenties by now. She wasn't my dream girl 6 years ago; but after I stopped seeing her, I thought about her constantly for a long time. Sometimes I would find myself speaking to her when I was alone in my room. You're just crazy, that's all. In my mind she became perfect, and she was all I wanted. Many times I imagined what I would say to her when I saw her (something devastatingly charming), and now she was right in front of me.
"Have a nice afternoon."
She turned and left, and I said nothing more. I should've said something, I could've at least called her by name, but I didn't. I wanted to watch her leave, to see her hair sway as she walked away, but I was already moving on to the next customer (the man with Palsy who buys a date scone every day). I didn't even think about her for the rest of my shift.

Maybe it wasn't even her, maybe I was just projecting onto some stranger. What would she be doing in Armidale anyway? As last I heard, she was in Sydney, at university. Maybe she was just passing through? Who knows. When I got home, I asked Mum if she could describe her for me (I once told Mum about my obsession with her, which was a bad choice). It all matched; the height, the hands (slender and dexterous), the age, everything. She was somewhat different to how I remembered her, but only in small ways. Her hair was wavy where it once was straight, and she had a rounder face than I recall; but my memory is less than perfect. I told myself that I was wrong, that it couldn't be her, but I wasn't convinced.

In a way I'm glad she didn't recognise me, because it would've been unfortunate to lose my dream girl in exchange for a real one.