I was dying. Maybe. there was something wrong with my heart and my lungs, and my doctor said if I didn't die that day, I would start to improve, but that I would likely die. I was in the car--my partner-in-crime was driving--and feeling very weak and tired. We stopped somewhere to pick up my good friend J, who got into the front seat with us (it was a bench), put his head in my lap, and asked me not to die. The three of us went to a big outdoor picnic area, where we were having a gathering of all my friends. (Here's where I'm missing a bit.) The next thing I remember is fleeing the picnic area because a bear showed up. We were running up a mountain, through pine trees, and I was carrying somebody's child. We finally found a slender pass between two rock walls that we could barely slip through, leaving the bear behind. I was trying to calm the child, who seemed oddly intelligent for someone as young as he was. (Here's where I'm missing a large bit.) Then I remember being in an airport with my family. I don't actually remember who had just arrived. But we left the airport, and for some reason I went to this empty house that I was supposed to clean up/take care of, and I didn't. I slept a lot, ate what I could find when I was hungry, and generally hid from the world in this house. Until the day the movers came and I hadn't dealt with anything. The neighbor came over and found me in the closet, and together we started packing up the house.
Dying, running, and hiding. I wonder where all that came from.
1 comment:
Seriously, what's going on in there?
Post a Comment