...He don't believe in God, but he believes in those who say they do; the ones like you

This project was based on a dream I had one night. It called into question everything about myself. Who I am, what I do, and what I want. I had another dream and it made me question even more. Everything up to this point has found some time during the day to swim through my consciousness, so it's no surprise that it reappeared in my subconscious.

I've been considering the validity of my intentions with art school, my ability to acquire a job, and even my eating habits. I've been shirking responsibilities since last week. I've been waking up late every day, I've not been doing my exercises, and I've been playing into the very distractions that I know are at the heart of some of my problems. They've all come back to me in the form of a midnight reminder.

The details were not straightforward. Or they were as straightforward as can be. The point is that I can't tell. All I know is what happened and I can only surmise what it might have meant. What I do know is that it was not unlike the dream that brought me here. Once again the subject was myself and longing. And a girl.

It started with my attempts to sneak into a church. That's questionable detail number one. The church was, in fact, in session. Once I had finally infiltrated the building through a side door, for whatever reason, I ran into another obstacle. The church was letting out. In order to keep my intentions a secret, I was forced to mingle into the line as it wandered out the front door. When I had finally exited the building, my makeshift congregation began to disperse, and to my left was the girl.

She was shorter than I am, and she had slightly-longer-than-shoulder-length brown hair. Upon cursory observations, she was cute. There was something odd about her, though. For one, she was wearing a Chelsea FC jersey. The name on the back read Essien (alluding to CFC midfielder Michael Essien) and the number was 8 (strangely, though, this number corresponds to CFC midfielder Frank Lampard). Needless to say, I am a fan, and apparently so was she. And while the initial thought of the girl wearing the jersey was intriguing, it was how the girl looked that made me take notice. She looked lonely.

I took it upon myself to cheer up the sullen lass and issued her a hearty, "Go Chels!". The connection was made, but what happened next is unexplained. We suddenly appeared in a crowded cafeteria. While a line was forming at the lunch counter, I was approaching a fold-up bench-style table like the ones I sat at in middle school. On the table was an assortment of trays with an assortment of lunches. What I remember next was getting one of the last trays and being upset at the poor meal that I was stuck with. I sat down. She sat beside me, never speaking or looking above her nose, but never pulling away. I began to feel as though she was a freshman or a sophomore and I was the kind upperclassman who had befriended her.

Across from her sat two individuals from the church. One of them was an adamant female Christian. She was harsh and bellicose in the advocation of her beliefs. She seemed to me like the Parker Posey of religion. Eventually a theological debate erupted when I calmly stated my acceptance of all religions. All the while the Chelsea girl sat beside me, quiet and reserved. And I woke up.

But with the strange circumstances of the dream and the unexplainable events that took place, there was only one thing that stuck with me in a meaningful way. The girl. I had spotted her out of the corner of my eye and I had taken her under my wing. Our relationship was never defined beyond that point. Was I simply being nice to a girl who needed a friend, or was there more to it than that? And if there was more motivation to our meeting, why was she the lonely one and I the champion?

I thought about it at length and I am still left with only assumptions. At first I just thought it represented an easy situation. I literally walked into it, simply and effortlessly. It was practically set out on a platter for me to respond. This makes sense, given my aversion to complicated situations (read: college and work). But as I write this, I'm slowly coming to the conclusion that the why is more crucial than the how, or the what. And it's something that the original inspirational girl shares with the recent one.

There are times when I want to smile and hug her. And there are times when I want to pull her close and squeeze her until everything is OK. As I realize now, thats what I wanted to do with the Chelsea girl. I wanted to grab her and hold her until it was all right again. I didn't want her to feel anything but loved. Anything else would've made me ache.

Maybe I'm looking for that feeling to be returned.