There were people everywhere
confusion, drunkenness
If you’re on the street, take care
glass, fire, God, what a mess

The dogs were coming with big teeth
hurting, beating any and all in their path.
Hundreds were hiding, sneaking away like a thief
Men in their riot gear, holding their killer’s staff

People are falling, but down by the deadly scepter
Women screaming, fear clutching their soul.

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December 7, 1988

I am not writing you from the beach, as you may think, but from the bedroom.  I changed my mind when I woke up this morning and decided against it.  I just watched The Sting II.  I wish I was a con artist.  Just for the excitement and adventure. Like it seemed to be in the movie.  I would give half of my money to charity.  But like all things, give me a week and I will change my mind and want to do something else.  You know, I have always been afraid I would always live in a dream world.  I don’t. Live in a dream world all of the time, that is. Only when I am here, at home.

I should try and make it a point to be as friendly as possible.  Ah, right now, I am listening to

Ah, right now, I am listening to Somewhere in Time. That melancholy tune that keeps me in rapture every time it is played.  I changed my major to Social Science.  We will see how long that lasts, eh?

I want to write you my most valuable and secret thoughts, how did the woman in Somewhere in Time say it?  “What every woman dreams of in the most secret beaches of her heart.” After all of that, and I have nothing to tell, no secrets to give away. Just a bored and restless soul yearning to be free. I am sure I will get over it once school starts back up.

Nae’ living man I’ll love again
since that my lovely knight is slain
with a lock of his yellow hair
I’ll chain my heart forever mare’

I did not write that.  I found it in a book.  I just felt like writing it.  I can picture a wife in front of a castle that does not belong to her, clutching a lock of yellow hair, while a knight in armor tries, awkwardly, to comfort her.  Her children are running around her, oblivious to what is going on.

Oh, I can hear you say, such morbid thoughts for such a young girl?  By the way, Daniel Charmers is his father’s name.  Remington Steele, that is. No, I never stop.  Jealous?  Then come to me,

come to me my love…

December 23, 1987

I have just finished watching Beauty and the Beast.  Victor, the beast, is quoting poetry. I wish I could quote poetry.

This vacation I will read as much as I can.  Our cat Max died today.  She died of poison.  We had our house tented for termites because we are moving to the other side of town.  It made me think about the gas chamber.  How would a person sit there and know they were going to die?  I would do it as bravely as possible.  When Mata Hari was executed she was very brave about it and the guards really admired her.  They were going to tie her up, she said that wouldn’t be necessary. At first, the guards didn’t even want to tie her up.  Like the Indian in The Grapes of Wrath, he is standing tall and proud with the sun behind him and no one wants to shoot him because he has magic. I am not sure I would call it magic.  Maybe majestic?  I wonder if that is the same thing?  Anyway, wouldn’t that be a great painting?

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and we still don’t have a tree up. It hasn’t felt very Christmassy.  I was so busy with finals and school, I have not had time to think of Christmas. My dad hasn’t even called yet.  Someday, he will altogether quit calling.  Usually, it doesn’t bother me but every once in a while when I think about it I get upset.  However, I won’t worry about it until another time.  I can do that.  I can push things out of my mind and pretend they simply do not exist.  Sometimes, it costs a lot.  What I mean is I forget things and I become “blonde” but it is worth it.

I remember when I used to dream about a man who came to me and he loved me. He would only come to me when I was asleep. He would always be a different guy. I mean I would change the guy, once it was M.

Once, we were in a beautiful house and I was wearing black. I had a white horse and he had a black horse.  We would ride at night in a forest lit by moonlight riding past fairies running to catch us.

Then there was the guy from the Civil War and B., he was from the 1100s, England.  Like at the Irish Festival.  Have I told you the one about P.?  I am married in a Southern Belle costume in white wouldn’t that be pretty?  My dreams are so long and complex.  It is hard to write them all down.  So I write snippets here and there.  I probably won’t remember them next week.  Just silly thoughts from a silly girl. The end of 1987 is near, how could it have gone so quickly?

I must confess, I am afraid of the future. I know the past. I wish I could be plopped down in the 1900s, I would know what to expect.  Did I tell you the dream where  I  was part of the Black Sheep squadron? My eyelids are growing heavy my love.

Yours,

Date Unknown

Dear Sir,

You do not know me, as well, I do not know you.  I do not know why you were chosen but I do know I am still looking for you.  Please do not avoid me, nor miss me, nor exclude me, nor lose me, nor reject me for I depend upon you.  You are my life, my present, and future.  Without you I am nothing nor will I ever be anything.

I will continue to look for you, as I hope you are looking for me.

Love,