(no subject)
I dreamt about an old friend last night.
I was sitting at my computer, looking at
faelyrist's profile, when my mother came in and told me that we were going to an independent bookstore in upstate NY, by my grandfather's house. We went, and it had been turned into a Borders. So, we were looking around and all of a sudden, I turn around and Jessie is there, dressed in different shades of pink. Her hair is in one of those very messy buns on top of her head.
I walk to a different part of the store and keep browsing, but then she's there asking my mother if we can give her a ride back to school. Mom agrees, and we all get into the car. I can't look at Jessie, I can't speak to her, I just sit. The car gets a flat tire just as we get to her school, and Jessie invites me out to see the library while my mother waits for a tow truck. I cautiously agree.
As we're getting out of the car, she grabs a pink Razr out of her little pink bag and tries to make a call. My mom asks her, where did you get the phone? She answers, my father gave it to me! There is something wrong about that answer, but I couldn't put my finger on it in the dream. During the walk to the library, I try to talk to her about what happened between us, but she won't, throwing foolish accusations at me to shut me up.
We get to the library, and she's showing me around, and it's a silly little library, but I notice that there's some information about the great estates on the Hudson Valley here, and I ask her if I can do some research. She introduces me to the head librarian, a French-Canadian man with bad teeth who is very suspicious of me. I go down into the stacks, (a place that was obviously a root cellar, two hundred years ago,) and notice that this is where the police department and the nearby military base keep all their extra patches and medals
Just then, I hear voices above. One is saying, "She'll get the promotion if she puts on the patches!" Another is saying, "Good, I didn't want him to become a general." The librarian says, "We have to catch her!" And they all run down the stairs. I'm not interested in the medals or promotion, I just want to look at the books. But as I'm running around the center aisle of books, trying to get away, I hear one of them behind me and one of them in front.
Then I woke up. And as I did, I realized what was wrong with Jessie's statement that her father gave her the cell phone. He's been dead for four years.
I miss her. I could be myself with her, I could let go in a way that I can't with anyone else. We knew each other before we knew ourselves. But she wasn't, in the end, a very good friend. All I wanted was a good friend. Someone who was there for me for a while, out of her busy life. I'm not a happy pill. I resent being treated like one, especially by my oldest friend.
I was sitting at my computer, looking at
faelyrist's profile, when my mother came in and told me that we were going to an independent bookstore in upstate NY, by my grandfather's house. We went, and it had been turned into a Borders. So, we were looking around and all of a sudden, I turn around and Jessie is there, dressed in different shades of pink. Her hair is in one of those very messy buns on top of her head.
I walk to a different part of the store and keep browsing, but then she's there asking my mother if we can give her a ride back to school. Mom agrees, and we all get into the car. I can't look at Jessie, I can't speak to her, I just sit. The car gets a flat tire just as we get to her school, and Jessie invites me out to see the library while my mother waits for a tow truck. I cautiously agree.
As we're getting out of the car, she grabs a pink Razr out of her little pink bag and tries to make a call. My mom asks her, where did you get the phone? She answers, my father gave it to me! There is something wrong about that answer, but I couldn't put my finger on it in the dream. During the walk to the library, I try to talk to her about what happened between us, but she won't, throwing foolish accusations at me to shut me up.
We get to the library, and she's showing me around, and it's a silly little library, but I notice that there's some information about the great estates on the Hudson Valley here, and I ask her if I can do some research. She introduces me to the head librarian, a French-Canadian man with bad teeth who is very suspicious of me. I go down into the stacks, (a place that was obviously a root cellar, two hundred years ago,) and notice that this is where the police department and the nearby military base keep all their extra patches and medals
Just then, I hear voices above. One is saying, "She'll get the promotion if she puts on the patches!" Another is saying, "Good, I didn't want him to become a general." The librarian says, "We have to catch her!" And they all run down the stairs. I'm not interested in the medals or promotion, I just want to look at the books. But as I'm running around the center aisle of books, trying to get away, I hear one of them behind me and one of them in front.
Then I woke up. And as I did, I realized what was wrong with Jessie's statement that her father gave her the cell phone. He's been dead for four years.
I miss her. I could be myself with her, I could let go in a way that I can't with anyone else. We knew each other before we knew ourselves. But she wasn't, in the end, a very good friend. All I wanted was a good friend. Someone who was there for me for a while, out of her busy life. I'm not a happy pill. I resent being treated like one, especially by my oldest friend.