Sunday, November 8, 2009

A lot of dreams lately seem to have Dad getting mad at me.

I'm sure Freud would have something to say about that.
Ok, it was summer and time for the yearly beach trip. We'd just gotten to the house, which looked a lot like the Pounder's house, but bigger, and beachier. We immediately went out and set up. The Hensons and the Orells were already out there and set up. Ned was coming in from snorkeling as I went into the water. I had my usual discussion with Reilly about using swim goggles in the ocean.
We went inside later to find Dad at the kitchen table looking worried. Turned our he'd been fired from the NSA and had to find a new job. I joined him in searching. He had a recipe box filled with little cards that had open positions and their descriptions on them. One of the jobs that he liked seemed to be running an artsy summer camp. I also expressed interest in this job. He said he especially liked it because it counted as school credits, and I was like "It does??" He angrily showed me the card and started ranting about how I never look at anything closely and that's why I'm failing at school.

The dream changed and there was some bit about Reece getting me a robot dog for Christmas.

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