dreams: March 13, 1999

too scared to take a risk with Phoebe

Phoebe and I are climbing a ridge next to a river. We're going to take a risky innertube trip downstream together. Other people (friends) have already gone and are waiting for us below. I'm too scared. I let her go and just rest in a hot tub in a small room up high on the riverbank.

choosing my flavor

I'm in an ice cream store that is very small. It feels like it's in the South side of Ashland. I'm trying to decide what flavor I want; I can't make up my mind. I keep getting samples. Mom is the woman who is working here, but we act like we don't know each other. There is one huge vat of ice cream that's a swirled combination of all the flavors, but they have distinct areas that are each their own. I spoon bites from the different flavors while looking at the corresponding names from a list. The names are types of emotions and smells. I think I just want plain vanilla.

Then I'm with Maraya Kennedy. The two of us are alone, sitting together. There is whiteness all around us. We are trying to decide what to wear.

we're all in it together

I'm sitting at a really high point watching lots of students participate in an event that counts as part of an evaluation toward their classes. We're on the roof of a building (Parrish?), and I can see Parrish Beach below us. They're in groups trying to make kites that they've constructed to fly. I'm with a professor (Bill Gabriel, from AHS), and as we're talking about what we see as we watch. One group is really united, working hard and having fun. Katie ___ (Swattie from my Lyric Poem class) is in it. I say something about her, and Gabe tells me that she and I were in similar living situations growing up, as her dad was an active alcoholic for ten years.

Then I'm sitting in a locker room. A friend is sitting next to me: a cross between Corey and Will Mackintosh. We're on a step between rooms. He has a big bowl between his feet. A girl is with us. We are all talking. There is a picture painted onto one of the lockers above me. It's a young black woman's face; she has very short hair. I tell my friends that she used to go to Swat, and that she was a lesbian (eco?)feminist. We talk about it. (Apparently all three of us fall beyond the definition of heterosexual.) Corey/Will almost throws up, getting nauseous again, putting his face in the bowl. Oh, that's why he's here, I realize.

- FIN -

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