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I was in a baskeball court with lots of friends. We just finished performing something I think, because we were all sweaty. My friends were all in red and I just remembered that I have to change clothes. When I got changed I went to the parking lot infront of the court to put my stuff inside the car. I went to the basketball court again and stood behind the basketball ring. Near me, in a stone bench, a guy was drawing something. I couldn't tell because it was kind of blurry. The guy was average but I couldn't see his face. It was very blurry, like a bad camera shot. But what I could tell was he had a warm smile. The guy then extended his hand to me and lifted me up. and I could tell he was taking me somewhere, somewhere I am familiar with but do not know. It was an abandoned building near the court and there was a sofa there and we sat on it.Just the two of us. The guard of the building didn't even mind us, like we were never there. Some of my frinds were there and they were having fun with the elevator. It was weird because it was like the guy beside me knew them. It was also weird at the fact that my friends were too happy. Then one of my guy friends went inside the elevator for fun.Then it closed. I got goosebumps when I saw a sign that it was out of order. I asked the guy "Hey, the sign says that the elevator was out of order. Did you know that in the first place?" the guy just kept on smiling and ignoring me. Just then my guy friend got out from the elevator and started looking ang acting creepy because my othedr friends are screaming but they couldn't find a way out. I yelled at the guy. "Can you please help them?!?! They are my friends!!!" I couldn't do anything because they can't even see or feel me. The guy continued to smile,this time at me. The smile that made my heart skip a beat was the smile i came to despise the most.

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I was in an abandoned building with Mohammed Alsharif and this couple (whom I don't actually know but I seemed to know in the dream). The four of us were going to go somewhere and I ended up outside in the car (a yellow convertible) with the couple. The guy was driving and he started to drive off without Mohammed. I protested and the guy said something to the effect of 'screw him' and then said, 'He shouldn't lag behind.' I got highly offended and demanded we go back. The guy refused; I argued; he refused. So, I told him to let me out. He woudn't. So, we argued about that until I told him this was kidnapping and got my phone out to call the police. I was deposited on a dark, rain-slicked skid row street. It was very dark and I started to walk back to the apartment to find Mohammed. I got to the upstairs doorway - a kind of doorway without a door to a landing with cracked and abused plaster, the cement floors covered in dust and debris - and he was there. "I'm so sorry, I said. "No problem," he shrugged in classic Mohammed fashion. "No, it's terrible. They were going to leave without you." "It's okay." Again, quintessential Mohammed casual shrug. "They're assholes. I'm so sorry. What should we do now?" I asked, thinking we would make alternate plans for the night out. He smiled in a cute, coy way and blushed as he shrugged his shoulders. I got the hint and smiled and blushed and looked down at my shoes. As I looked back up, he put his arms around my neck - very gently, very shyly - and leaned over to kiss me. It was gentle at first, but as I became more receptive, he got bolder. At one point, I gave a little whimper while he was kissing me and lips still on mine, he smiled and repeated my whimper mockingly. In this torrent of polite and demure passion, the boldest I could force myself to be was to press a hand to his chest. His hands never ventured beyond the back of my neck.

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