I felt the strange sensation I always seem to get when I dream. The kind of feeling that usually means I'm outside of my own body. Observing and analyzing, but not seeing. Able to manipulate events and happenings, but without my own tangible, physical presence.

I watched a shy blond walk down the school hallway alone, nervous stuttering would been noticed if anyone happened to glance his way. After gaining the supplies from his locker, I noticed how he cautiously and gently closed it as though considering the emotional feelings of the cold metal before him. As soon as he had though, a face and body towered over him, seeming to leer down at this small frame.

"Mornin', Butters." His brown eyes grinned suspiciously and impishly.

"G-good morning, Eric." "I" returned, mumbling. "H-how are you to-today…?" Cartman's largely obese body stepped closer as my dream-self attempted to make it to homeroom, blocking the path.

"Where're you hurryin' off to, beautiful?" He grinned even more as both (including myself, as intangible as I was) blonds listening to him blushed ferociously. I'd had a crush on him for years (that, and my extremely low confidence level contributed to my inability to say no to him), and now it seemed as though he was flirting with me. Why then, when he had first appeared on the scene, had I described, and therefore reacted, in such a negative way? Could I possibly be angry with him? What reason did I have? I couldn't dwell on those questions long enough to give myself a proper and satisfactory answer as "Butters" walked away from Eric with a huge smile on his face, appearing not to mind that he was now late for Homeroom with Miss Iriis.

My eyes must have been rotating fiercely behind my eyelids in my room, as the scene before my twisted and changed.

Now I was peering at one Kyle Broflovski and Misters Stan Marsh and Kenny McCormick all trying to talk to "me" at the same moment as one another.

"Don't you realize he's a fat-ass, racist, Jew-hating neo-Nazi?"

"Does this mean you're off the market, Butters-baby? Because if so, it only makes you all the more desirable."

"Stop winking at flirting, Kenny! He's not interested in what little romance you stand to offer him!"

"I mean really, Butters, what were you thinking?"

"Oh, geez. I-I'm sorry, Kyle. I didn't mean to…to make you upset…"

"Because you're naivete and innocence already made you like, oh. But not that you've got a man on your arm that boosts you to an, oooohh!"

"I mean it, Kenny, knock it off! Shut up because I'm not playing this game!"

"Calm down, baby; I've still got luuurve for you, Staaan."

"SHUT UP!"

"I guess it's fine, Butters, but you've got to be careful. Eric Cartman is not someone to hang around with lightly."

"What? Screw you, guys, me and Butters are goin' home!"

"It's Butters and I, moron! And you two don't even live together!"

"Shut up, Jew! It's my life and boyfriend; I'll do what I want…!"

Once again my dream scene, unconcerned with Kyle's angry shouts and "my" nervous pleas, faded I took this time to consider what my subconscious had replayed for my study and benefit.

Had Kyle truly been caring about my wellbeing when he'd been scolding my decision? Or was he simply hurt that I had disregarded all of the racism Eric had shown him and Token Black? Did Stan like Kenny? It had never occurred to me before but watching the scene unfold again made me believe I'd missed a few subliminal messages. And what of Kenny? Did he feel the same way about Stan and teased me simply to gain his attention? Or did Kenny really not care for Stan romantically, or was only oblivious to Stan's possible affections? The more I dwelt on and deliberated it, the more confusing it became.

The reeling vortex finally stopped and I could focus on seeing "Butters" attempting to gain the attention of and converse with Eric, but the larger was busy with watching television and not with sharing thoughts or feelings with his boyfriend.

Eventually, "Butters" gave up and silently watched alongside Eric. Although I already remembered that Eric would grunt after a moment and wrap one arm around "my" shoulder, and I would be satisfied with that, I noticed that I did not feel the same as my dream counterpart.

As the convolution started up again, I felt a wave of nausea crash over me as I was drawn into it while simultaneously an annoyingly repeated sound came to my ears…

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! My alarm clock sounded off like an angry drill sergeant screaming next to my head.

'Well,' I thought tiredly as I shut off the rest-wrecker, 'time to go back to real life.'