Dreams

Everyone dreams, but some are forgotten before you even get up. There is one dream I have experienced with variations since I graduated in sixty five. I go to school and don't remember my locker number or combination. I can't remember my schedule. I go to the office and they can't help me for some reason. Bells ring and I don't know where to go. Last night I had that dream again. This time the office had been moved because of reconstruction. I went to the new office, which was small and disorganized. The lady inside was putting her pants on. Did she live in there. I shut the door until she could get herself together. She couldn't tell me what my schedule was. No computers of course. Her files weren't even there. Now, you talk about post traumatic syndrome, school must have severely traumatized me if I am having that kind of dream at my age.

When I was a baby, my mom said I did nothing the first year of my life, but sit. I didn't jabber and coo. I didn't crawl. I sat with whatever my older brother gave me. When I was one year old, my aunt, who was a year older than me, took my doll away from me, I stood up, walked over to her, and said, "My doll!" I guess up until then, everything was okay with me. I didn't have anything to "Sound Off" about. That is why my blogging is so sporadic. Sometimes I limit my comments to MySpace.