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Saturday, 22 June 2013

Stolen from, stolen phone

I had a dream last night where my phone had been stolen by that awful 3rd grade teacher I had. I'd gotten a call from my then art teacher, who'd been suspended from school (on goodness knows what charges). He told me he'd paid to use my phone and when I asked who had it he told me her name. I asked him to please hold on to the phone and not give it back to her, to wait for me to come get it. I don't think he did. You see, the terrible teacher had already told me she had my phone and told me to call to get it back, except she didn't pick up. She was stealing it and pretending not to. I couldn't, however, completely rely on the art teacher. I remember making my way there, worried that he wouldn't still have the phone. I remember "hacking" (making a lucky guess at a four letter password... key word "ejes", with a j instead of a y) a pre-school computer, hoping to find information about the bad teacher there (with no luck). In another part of my dream I was at a party hosted by the morbidly obese girl I once went to school with (I'm sorry if that's a cruel description, I'm afraid it's also accurate and the only one I dare offer). Of that I just remember running up and down stairs, trying to find other girls invited. 

Sorry for being silent for so long, blog. I've had a bad case of the aunt A and it's been bad enough that I'm not even in the mood to write about it. Suffice it to say that what I told SmTn stays true: the alternate universe where I got to go home and my sister didn't come for these couple of month sounds like the better one of the universes. 

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