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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Middle school dream

In my dream last night, Terence and I had an argument about Patrick Gordon.

Terence was swearing that he knew him, and that Patrick was an assistant DA in San Francisco.

ďWhen?Ē I shouted.

ďBack in the 80s. When I was playing rugby. I met him through some of the other footballers.Ē

This made no sense to me in my dream, because Terence was 21 when he played rugby, and that would have meant that Patrick Gordon, at 20, was the youngest assistant DA known to man. Even in my crazy dream, this did not compute.

My dream also had an amusement park with strange rides like this one:

Livan Hernandez Batting Helmet. The outside of the ride was a baseball batting helmet, a big one because of course Livan Hernandez is a big guy, and inside the helmet were tracks with little cars that you rode in. To get to the ride entrance, you had to climb a super tall ladder and it was scary as hell. I guess the ride must have been worth the risk, because seriously folks, the ladder was at least 50 feet high and sort of precariously balanced on some scaffolding. I donít remember much about the ride except that it was disappointing. The ladder trek was more exciting.

Back to Patrick Gordon.

I think he was in my dream because of a photo Terence has on his nightstand. Itís a school picture of me from the 8th grade. I am such a dork in that photo, itís UNREAL. Iím wearing a light blue Lacoste shirt underneath a gray Fair Isle sweater. So nerdy preppy. My hair is mostly ok, but Iím wearing some hideous brown glasses with the upside down arms (the kind favored by old ladies.) Itís really no surprise that guys didnít talk to me and that I had one friend. I was hopeless.

But Patrick was always sweet to me. He was cute and all the girls liked him, and I couldnít understand why he was friendly to me. He would sometimes call me, out of the blue, just to talk. On the phone! I got phone calls from a boy in the 8th grade! From the cool boy! And Patrick didnít even act like I wasnít supposed to mention it at school. He was very natural. A couple of times, he gave me squeezy hugs at recess when no one was paying attention. Patrick had this shaggy hairdo and wore a Leviís jean jacket with fleece lining. Funny that thatís what I remember. I also remember that he had a job on the weekends, working in a service station or something, and that he had an older brother who was a quasi fuck-up stoner.

The other boys in class would either ignore me or do mean shit. One kid, Anton, pinned my wrists above my head against the wall by the lockers, and brought his face inches from mine. He asked what my favorite position was, and I was befuddled. It was just a pretext for him telling me what his favorite position was and it was, naturellement, 69. I really had very little understanding of 69 at the time, and I just stared him down. What else was I going to do? I was a 5 foot tall, 95 pound ballet nerd with boobs, and I wasnít going to let the moment end if I could help it. This was as close to being cool as I had been my entire 8th grade lifetime and I was going to milk it for as long as I could.

How pathetic.

Anyway, just thought I would share.

10:49 a.m. - 2003-02-02

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