Dear Diary,
Last night I had yet another of my bazarre [sic] dreams (well, two).
It was first of a trauma between me, my mother, and my health (human sex ed.) teacher Mr. McKnight. (First, about Mr. M. He's average height, darkish brown hair, circle-rim glasses, short beard and m
ustache, pointy nose, and yes, small lips (!!!), plus, he wears baggy pants and shirts (sweaters, etc.), which are usually casual dark colors. He went to Europe for awhile, and adores medieval things, plus listens to good music, has very good taste, a soothing, deep voice, reads books that I love, magnificent artist, and single (I think,
though it wouldn't make a difference).
Back to my dream, sometime I was in the hospital or at home looking back, but long ago (real life), I had to go to the hospital (asthma). This may be how my dream developed. Anyway, in my dream, I had under gone many opperations in that visit, and was just finding this out from my mom. Either mom or myself told me that..
..one of my opperations [sic] was so serious that I had to have Mr. M (an undercover sergeon) come and preform something called 'Open Breast Surgery'.
Now the name says nothing, because the opper. had nothing to do with my blosoming breasts, but for some reason, Mr. M. wished to keep the fact that in this opp. secret (why? I don't know). Anyway, I assumed this was why he hadn't noticed (purposely?) me at all in class. The rest was about me being angery [sic] at my mom for holding this crutial info. back for so long. Now is this soap opera material or what?
My next dream was more on the romantic note.
I had been walking in Tacoma for a long time and didn't notice that I had walked into dangerous downtown at night. When I did, it struck me. All of a sudden I saw looming figures of street gangs and mobs glowing in the bright night lighting. They were sitting and standing on a street curb [and] on the corner I could make out the sharp slope of the street, I imediatly [sic] started saying "I don't have any money" ect. [sic], but in vain, for a group of boys about my age surrounded me and grapped [sic] my arms, dragging me down a street surrounded by rowan bushes (on Day Island).
Their barracks was a small ally [sic] type thing lined with brick walls. Gray furniture was by the walls, and in the wall indents I saw cute rats with red cones around their necks, eating out of food dishes.
Up-side down chairs were stacked on desks and tables. It was a very small, narrow place and felt light, gray and dreamish. I tried to escape, by giving one of the boys a sharp upper cut with my elbow. But also in vain. And there my dream ended.
In dreams like this I am never scarred [sic]. I know if I am sweet and true, I can bring out the good in anyone. Plus, the guys in my dream were ones from school, whom [of] some I liked.
So I acted feeble and feminine.
--
Women may not be the strongest sex, but we are the wisest and more advanced (in our minds that is). That is why we were chosen to bear children. We are much more responsible.
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However some women aren't so wise, and some men are surely equl [sic] to the true women.
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