Maybe its not a dream

I pinched the back of my hand with my nails, I was sure I could feel it. The smell of diesel fumes as I left the theater was stronger than I remembered, though I was pretty sure I hadn't actually been outside the care home for a while.

And, man did I feel strong. I flexed my muscles and grinned like a loon. An elderly couple (actually significantly younger-looking than the real me), paused and looked aghast at me.

I quickly hurried on up main street.

Everything seemed authentic, the license plates on the traffic indicated nothing newer than 1985. I glanced at styles. It all fitted. Well, I guess, it was my mind setting this up, so it would know what to do to fool me. I thought about tests for lucid dreaming. They say if you spin round quickly in a dream your brain hasn't set up a scenario behind you, so the dream collapses.

I whirled and saw the theater then back to the street. I whirled again faster, two more times. Each time the scenario seemed perfect.

"Hey look. Asshole thinks he's wonderwoman!" said a teenager in a bunch of four or five teenagers coming up the street. I turned and walked the other way ignoring their comments.

It began to rain and I recognised the sensation of getting my hair wet, even though I hadnt had hair for such a long time! Fuck - what was going on? This seemed too real!

I realised I was getting a little cold, and wondered what to do now. I resolved that I was going to have to go on the assumption that this was real. I passed a small club, and looked in. The styles and haircuts were appropriate for the era too. The music playing was Raspberry Beret? I tried to think - was that 1985? Felt like later, or maybe the song just aged well. I pulled out my mobile phone from my pants and checked the date. Yeah, July 6th 1985, and put it back.

Wait a minute. How did I have my cellphone. The fucking thing wasnt even invented yet. This was a weird dream.

Where did I live? Shit. The house I lived in most of my life wouldn't even be built yet. I guessed I must still live with my parents!

I passed a bookies deep in thought, then stepped back and looked at it again. Surely I couldn't. I pulled out my wallet and checked my cash. - $75, put it back. Most of the horse races were pointless for me - I couldn't know who won. But the big events... Yeah. I quickly checked the cellphone again. It was tennis season over in England. I stepped inside.

The atmosphere was foul and smoky. It was amazing how I was getting used to these old sensations, accepting them as reality.

A gum-chewing latina behind the counter eyed me idly.

"Double on Navratilova and Becker for Wimbledon please".

"Ok", she looked up her tables on that morning's printed odds. Wow - no internet. How did anything function? "I can give you 40-1"

"Cool, $50 please".

She did a double take, then shrugged, wrote the slip and took my money. I did the arithmetic 40 x 50 = $2000. A lot of money for a youth. I would pick up my winnings the next day I thought confidently.

I made my way idly back to my parents' house, and still was shocked when I saw them. They weren't though. I had only been gone a couple of hours for them after all. To me they had been gone for dozens of years. Now here they were fairly sprightly 40-somethings. They didn't look happy to see me.

"About bloody time! That girl of yours has been on the phone every five minutes!"

"Beth?"

"Who else?"

Shit! I almost exclaimed in front of my parents. Even now that was something I was hesitant to do though.

Just as I spoke the phone rang with a loud bell-like jarring sound, completely unlike a contemporary ring tone. Dad just glared at me. I went out to the hall where it sat and picked it up. "Hello?" I said cautiously.

"Its me Beth,"

"Uh hi,. I", I started. not knowing what to say. I had fucked things up royally trying to get into her panties in the back seat of the cinema and I knew it. She was about to rip my head off on the phone. I closed the door to the living room so my parents wouldn't hear the worst of it.

"Look Billy, I'm really really sorry I left the cinema so quickly," she said.

"Huh?". I said non-plussed. This wasn't what I was bracing myself for.

"I'm really sorry", she repeated. "I don't want you to think I'm some sort of prude who won't, you know. I'm sorry I spoiled our date. You just took me by surprise a bit. I'm really sorry".

"Uh, that's ok".

"Its not. I just want to say if you're not mad at me or anything if you want to do anything like that tomorrow that would be great. I won't run away again. I mean if you want to go back to the cinema that would be ok. I'll pay this time. Or you could come over to my place. My folks are away for the weekend."

"uh, great". I was caught on the back-foot. I had no idea what to say."um, I'll come over to yours, uh..., tomorrow afternoon?" I just remembered I should visit the bookies first and pick up the tennis winnings.

I looked at the big cream plastic handset attached by a curling cord to the base in befuddlement as she hung up. I made my excuses and disappeared off to my room aware of the most massive erection I had experienced in decades. I hoped I would be able to use something similar on Beth tomorrow, but meantime I would make my own entertainment and thoroughly ruin the packet of tissues in my pocket thinking about her. It was a shame I didn't have the internet I thought.

Sated with my first orgasm in years, I drifted off to sleep on my old bed.