A Very St Paul Dream
Current mood: breezy
This Luna bar I had for breakfast says it's 70% organic. I've concluded that the remaining 30% is composed of congealing raw sewage.
Anyway, the dream right before I woke up today was centered around St Paul Lutheran. At least it was, for the most part, comical, and not a re-hashing of the anxiety dream that I've been having since I got sober.
Keep in mind, most of this dream will only seem amusing or interesting to the folks here on myspace who were at St. Paul with me during grammar school, so be forewarned.
It was the last day of 8th grade and the scene was the chaotic parking lot full of parents and students about to depart for summer vacation.
Patti came running up to me clutching a hot lunch menu, and was screaming and flailing her arms about with excitement, as evidently, she'd never seen a hot lunch menu before. She was eager to circle the various menu choices for the month that she looked forward to eating. Too bad I took the wind out of her sails and pointed out that the menu was for the month that had just passed, and probably called her a "dumbshit" in the process.
Mrs. Moeller, the 6th grade teacher we all hated in reality, gave us all A's in Religion because she was dying (which she did in reality some years later). Yay, us!
Cathy approached me in the parking lot looking for her 2 kids, which was strange since she was in grammar school, and I marveled at the fact that she wasn't wearing any eye makeup.
Mr. Rittmueller, our 8th grade teacher, made each of us a tin mobile that had tiny pictures of everyone who's ever been in Menudo hanging from the aluminum strips. SCORE!
My mom and Patti's mom came to find us to take us home. I shooed my mother away and told her that she's always negative, mean and I didn't want to be seen in public with her. (Not far from how I felt at 14, actually!)
Besides, my mom was mad that I'd gotten 10% off on my English paper because in one paragraph, I'd mixed verb tenses in one of the paragraphs. While it sounded fine when read aloud as vernacular, and I was employing license, my mother scolded me for having an English degree and not being able to properly construct a paragaph. "But that's what I do when I blog!," I told her.
(So interesting in dreams that portions of our true, real adult lives are weaved into our characters in the dream, i.e. Cathy having children or me having an English degree, or my mom being grumpy.)
Amy T. went around showing everyone the big white stuffed autographable fabric bear that she wanted everyone except me to sign. Thanks for nothing, bitch!!! :)
Now hopefully, Luke's experience of "School's Out Summer 2008" will be less dramatic, Menudo won't remotely be involved, and his grades will be better than mine.