Free Write 5/7/17

Brothers

When I think of siblings (plural) I think of the song “Daughters” by John Mayer.  I’m not trying to be ironic or clever, it’s the truth- I can’t get over how part of the premise of the song revolves around mothers being daughters, and daughters being loving people. I feel like siblings follow this premise, in a way too, because sisters, brothers, and brothers and sisters can be friends too- best friends.  I have a sister, a younger one, so I know how it feels to be friends with a sibling, but I have never had the pleasure of having a brother.  I wonder what it would be like to have a brother- someone to be there to stick up for me, to give me advice, to help me with my homework.  If I had a brother, I imagine he’d have red hair, like me.  I imagine he would have intense eyes, like mine, that he’d be taller than me, even if he was younger.  I have imagined so much about this brother of mine, that I would like to write a short story about him, so here it goes:

Sometimes I have weird dreams, crazy dreams, where I am in places I don’t belong, places where there are a lot of people surrounding me that I don’t know. The other day my brother was telling me about his Speech class.  He told me that the teacher has a great sense of humor, one that lights up boring classes consisting of speech after speech after (non-memorized, notes on index cards) speech.  He told me the girl he had a crush on was in the same class.  He told me about how it was an extraordinary class, like no other.  The other night, before I fell asleep, I thought to myself how I would give anything to attend this class of his, my big brother’s Speech class, so I fell asleep, and my wish came true.

When I opened my eyes, I was sitting in a desk that was plastered with black and blue pen graffiti.  Across the room the walls were covered with motivational poems- one being “What is right is not always popular and what is popular is not always right.”  I didn’t know where I was or what was going on until I saw my big brother Sam sitting to my left.  I became hysterical at the thought of me being in his class, and in his school, so I jumped up and asked him in a loud voice what was going on.   But he ignored me.   It seemed like he didn’t see me, instead he was looking down at a Math book- probably Algebra, because last night at dinner he was complaining how he had a big test on quadratic equations coming up.  Sam was in the corner of the room, and I was to his right.  To my right was his friend Brian, and he was studying, with his head ducked low and his hands over his ears, it looked like he was deep in thought.  Class started when the teacher told someone to put their headphones away.  The teacher said today they were to continue with midterm speeches.  Sam went first- he gave a PowerPoint speech on how to write the perfect research paper.  Right before I was about to fall asleep and find myself in some other dimension where a third state of consciousness is possible, Sam’s speech ended.  Then a boy that had red hair, kind of like Sam’s, gave a (more simple) speech on how to make the perfect smoothie.  A few minutes later, another, and then another, and then another, speech was given.   And finally class was over.  The bell hadn’t rung yet, so I just sat and watched as people socialized while it seemed like the teacher didn’t care.  The boy who made the smoothie stood in the center of the room, and dribbled a basketball that came from some unknown source; he weaved it between his legs skillfully.  Then someone made a joke about the Simpsons, and the boy that reminded me of my brother said, obnoxiously, “No, Willy, we didn’t see that episode of the Simpsons.”  A girl and a boy were involved in a side conversation, and I noticed that the girl had a fleece sweater from the Gap on, a kind that I also had, but I think hers was a different color than mine. The one I used to have.  Did I purchase the sweater before or after my dream?  Don’t know.  Have I ever been more fascinated in an academic setting?  Probably not.  It was all pretend, but my brother was being himself, and that was the only thing that seemed real.