  Went for a Sunday afternoon drive this evening, such getting lostness has not happened since the Days of Chad. Saw a sunset, saw horses in the distance, bought some quiche and ate it. Spent an hour outside, talked to my parental units - another fabulously exciting day off.
Have a staff meeting today, at the unholy hour of 8am. Yuck. We all work backshift, so I don't imagine any of us will be all that chipper. Unfortunately, it's the only time any of us aren't working, so, here we are, dazed by the spelendor of the morning. Maybe I'll be chipper...ah, who am i kidding? I'm never chipper, let alone before noon. We're learning how to make four different types of nachos, and Mama is addressing grievences she has with the staff.
Ought to be a long meeting. On the issue of Fate - been having dreams about this girl. She was the terror of my elementary years - I'm not even sure she has any idea how much my life was affected by her. In my dreams, we are the age we are now. And I'm usually at her house. We're talking, we're helping each other do things, get over things, we're close friends. I've been having dreams like that for six months. But, she's always been in my head, one of my writing excercises was about people who affect me, and I wrote a thing on her.
here goes: Most of my childhood centered around avoiding her barbs, her verbal and physical attacks. She was always much much taller than me, darker than me, and her hair was extraordinary, because, unlike the midrange muddy that almost everybody around home had, hers was a real black. Not just dark brown, when the sun hit it, it had a blue shine. I look back, and seem to think that she was beautiful, but I only watched her face for danger signs. I was in trouble if her lip curled to the right. It happened for only a flash, that curl, then the words started. I was a sasquatch, a nose picker, a weirdo, a freak, I didn�t go to church. She was physically intimidating, everyone I knew was smaller than she was, and so, more than half the class was under her control - a knot of people, trying not to be the object of her irritation. Her hair was always styled, even in grade six. She wore interesting clothes. She didn�t talk in class, except to her lessers, two cronies, if grade six girls with 80s crimped hair could be considered as such. They often did the picking if she was not feeling up to it, or was busy with something else, since I was always on the wrong side of things, picking on me was a surefire way to solidify her favor.
The first time it got physical I tried to go around her in the stairwell. She reached for me, and I wasn�t fast enough to dodge. She pulled me into a corner, and slapped me, with her huge hands, her painted fingernails, her rings, all fast moving towards my face, I was so scared, I froze completely, fists curled tightly under my chin, eyes shut tight.
The slaps didn�t hurt, not that I remember, but many and fast they hit me, over and over again, until someone ventured into the stairwell. She was gone before I opened my hands. Yeah. She was entirely fucking scary. I stood up to her eventually. Just before we went to the big school, to grade nine. I told her what her future would be. To my horror, it came true, to the letter.
Haven't seen her since she dropped out. And then, the other day, I was talking to a friend who lives a few hours away. This guy, Brewmaster, works with her brother. She lives a few hours from me. She's in contacting range. Do I open that can'o'worms because of my dreams, or do I think to myself "Concidence," and never, ever, ever even think about getting in touch with her? Is it entirely peculiar that I think about my dreams as much as I do? These are the questions, kids. Great. It's six am, and I'm now offically tired. The truly rotten thing is, that frigging staff meeting happens at eight. BAH! I wentto bed at midnight, woke up at two, again at four, and stayed up at four because of some nasty dreams and excessive warmness. I don't sleep. I nap excessively. 
