In the gynecologist’s office, can’t remember the complaint. She says, “just a minute” comes back with an older partner, big guy, older, glasses and lots of grey hair. He has me summarize my last few visits to figure out what my level of understanding is. by the time I’m finished, there’s like 6 docs in the room, looking sympathetic, and Old Guy says, “how many pill packs are left on your Rx?” “four” I tell him. He says come back then, and we’ll see how things are. maybe we can change your script. “Why” I say, “it’s working fine.” And the faces get even more serious, all of them looking at each other, none telling me anything. I ask to see the report. Still staring, no one moving. I’m getting angrier and angrier, making eye contact, one after the other, asking for plain words. Old Guy, finally, admits what I already know by this time. “too numerous to count” which makes no sense of course, but it’s what they’re giving me. Ask for a tissue dx, nothing. ask to see the report, nope. ask for location, primary, no, no, nope. they leave the room and I’m left to go home and say goodbye.
me and a long haired, dimple-smiled sorta grunge burn out version of Graham Patric Martin, and we’re back in high school. And I’m in all my honors classes, and I’m a good girl, you know, and he’s kind of a garage band type. and i’m at the book fair with the teachers, looking at his curriculum, and my curriculum and i get a mental image of him of strong, doesn’t care, does what he has to to get what he wants. quiet, thoughtful, channeling bernie rabinowicz. and one day he smiles at me, and pulls me in his arms and he’s so strong and it feels safe, and i don’t care what anyone thinks, i’m his. and i go to his apartment, meet his parents, who are kind of drunken wastes, and he takes me to his room. he shares with his little brother, two twin beds, with an enormous yellow and blue striped flag on the wall with all his bad posters, and he comes out of the shower with his hair dripping and he looks so hot with his arms and his abs. he kisses me, and i am melting, and i sit in front of him, leaning back against his chest , and his arms are around me, and we talk till i fall asleep with him wrapped around me. I wake up in his bed, and find him sleeping on the couch in the living room while his parents are getting ready for work.
Sarah Y. and Jim T. presenting science fair projects and my mother in the audience screaming (singing) for them to introduce themselves even though the principal already did and it’s pretty obvious who’s the boy and who’s the girl.
Sarah practicing her physics project in the hall of the school and posting it on you-tube with an opening sequence of her badassery walking down the hall with the boys behind her, Law and Order style.
Harry and Ron running down the highway to escape destruction and mayhem and leaving Ginny to play dead on the side of the road. Lucius Malfoy comes by to rescue her (in this dream he’s her dad.) There are cars honking and smoke rising and people screaming everywhere.
Me and Keith and Steve sitting at an enormous oak table in a medieval-like dining hall playing some guessing game with cards and a shoe box. I am sitting on the table watching them play and we are drinking exotic beers.
Jen and Brad in a hotel room and Jen with a cat bite and I’m suturing her up on the bed. There’s one of my kitchen chairs in there and its too tall for me to sew comfortably and I’m looking in the supply room for a swivel stool, and I get all distracted by stuff in the store room, then Betty Lou comes by and reminds me to hurry up. So I get back in the room and they are all freaking out because she is spurting but it’s really just arteriolar but they’ve already called for a doc in their panic. So in comes Lisa Gagliardi, lays down a ski jacket on the floor, anchors some Rube Goldberg set up to the collar of the jacket and sews her little bleeding arteriole to the jacket to stop it.