There was a girl with fiery red hair--the hair would most likely be considered fake if it had been in real life; it was the shade of Courtney W.'s dyed hair (that note was for my own benefit; imagine a red apple)--and tan skin in this dream. She wasn't exactly popular, but she wasn't a "loser," either. I in no way shared any relation to this girl at all. I did not even recognize her, except from time to time when she and I would pass each other in the hallway.
Then one day, she asked if I wanted to date her. My response: "Sure."
It was nothing, absolutely nothing, for me. I had accepted her offer because I didn't want her to be sad, not because I had any attraction to her. After all, I am a heterosexual female both in the real world and in the dream world, apparently, and I don't particularly like the thought of me dating girls. Not because I am homophobic, but because I am not homosexual.
The second day of our not-so-affectionate relationship, I realized what I was doing. Not only was I dating (something I have all but forbid myself to do) . . . I was dating a girl. And I was neither bisexual nor lesbian. What had I done? Why had I done this? Now I would have to find the nicest possible way to break up with this poor girl.
When I seen her, I asked her what her sexuality was, and, looking down at her phone so that she could text one of her friends, she said that she was bisexual. I did not have time to respond in anyway.
The girl that I dated in my dreams is someone I recognize from my computer class. She and I are not friends, but we're not enemies either; purely acquaintances.