nepenthean's Diaryland Dream Diary

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homesteaders

it started out where i was shopping with my dad in a container store/home goods/etc. kind of place. i don't remember what we were shopping for, but when we got home he found my remark about the house being beautiful, odd. i'm sure i found it beautiful because it wasn't really our house!

the dream changed radically after that. i was living on a homestead with my husband and children, or some children, when someone was injured and i had to go for help. i mounted my pony with a little difficulty and rode for a short time, desperately clutching the carrot on top of the saddle so i wouldn't fall off. the horse dropped me off at a camp where wealthy white girls were sold into slavery, and i saw some of my own friends at the mercy of the majority. i knew i had to do something about that as well, so i did what any coward would do: i ran home and yelled at my kids about something else. the poor things were lined up on the edge of my bed, crying with me as i expounded on the importance of family history and "family furniture." what was i talking about? i was sure the bleeder back at the homestead was dead, and i was afraid these kids would be separated and sold into slavery. lord almighty! bad times.

12:28 p.m. - 2005-11-02

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