1) Running into the glass-breaker and her mother in a bakery; I am eating a croissant and avoiding their eyes; her mother asks me where the bathroom is.
2) Spiders crawling out of spider veins.
3) Sunflowers.
4) My dress missing, the cake unordered, the music not playing, the flowers not blooming.
5) Joe telling me a joke but forgetting the punchline.
6) Dave having heart palpitations.
Some things, though, I'm not sure if I dream, or if my mind just seems to have dreamed.
The little siblings: Madeline, Tommy, Kenny. I imagine them swinging double-dutch ropes, and mom (sweet, sweet mom) yelling out ready, set and then running and jumping in those ropes:
Cinderella, dressed in yellow, went downstairs to kiss her fellow, made a mistake...
7) And snakes, too; sometimes I dream of snakes, but mostly of missing trains, not remembering the track or waiting tables and not remembering the order, of being in the high school play and not remembering the lines, of not remembering it seems...
I think that's what I fear most: not remembering. If only I knew what it is that I don't quite remember.
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