Dreaming

I'm home. She's sleeping, and he's at the computer, everything as usual. I'm at home with them. Surreal, and yet so real.
Now we're at the grocery store. And as the grown-ups talk, I realize I'm 6. Since I'm bored, I leave them there, talking, and go play by myself outside, with a random stick I find. I can see the street, with its cobblestones, no cars coming, it's probably Sunday. All the neighborhood is quiet. Yup, definitely Sunday, the day people go to church and have lunch at their grandparents'. I look around, at all those houses so deeply rooted in my memories.
Inevitably, I look at V. and N.'s house, the dearest one - but the colors of it are funny. When I was 6, the house was beige with green windows. Since what I see is a white house with light-grey windows, I realize I'm 24 all over again. I'm a 24 year-old sitting on one of the steps of an empty grocery store, where there's no one waiting for me.

And all of a sudden, I see F. coming. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and enters the store. I  realize that, were we 6, he'd come and talk to me, but since we're 24, he's not gonna do it, because of his brother O.
I devote my attention to the stick again, there's nothing else to do.

He comes out, hands full of plastic bags. It's Christmas, after all, I knew that. He stops, and looks at me that way again, but this time with a tiny little smile on his lips, and a huge one in his eyes, the way he always does when he means "kidding!". Without a word, he stretches his arm, offering me one of the bags. I take it, and we walk to the car. And as he opens his door, he looks at me, waiting for me to enter as well. 

I'm happy: he's gonna take me to his house, O. wants to see me again, he isn't mad at me or anything. I laugh, and tell him I can't go in that dress I'm wearing, my pink and yellow dress with flowers. It's cute, but I wanna be prettier than that.
I run back home, down to my salmon-colored house with white gates, while realizing I'm 12. She's there, laughing at something, and he's making lemonade. Highly unlikely, unless she's sick - which is very likely. And then I see the turkey, it's ginormous, much more than the three of us need for Christmas Eve. I joke about it, he laughs and jokes too. I run up the green staircase, up to my bedroom, and I see the door, with the pink stick with my name on it.

The telephone rings, right next to me, and door, stairs and turkey instantly vanish. I wake up, confused, but by the time I get there, there's no one on the other side of the line.
I crawl back to bed, but it's gone. Somethings, I guess, are not easy to get back.