Dangerous Compassions

Deaf hitchhikers, lost friend, how to get a pretty scrunchie

I woke up from a dream–Ming and I were in the shortbus, and we saw some hitchhikers.  They were two women with short hair, butch-looking, wearing jeans and I’m not sure about their shirts, but they looked similar to one another, white ladies with dark blond hair, probably in their 30s.

I rolled down the window and asked, “Where you headed?” to the nearest lady, and she had a little sticker stuck to her finger.  She handed it to me, and in little handwriting, black ink, someone had written, We are Deaf.

But by then I had noticed the dog, a huge St Bernard, the size of a couch!

I told Ming, “They are Deaf.  But they have a huge dog!”  Ming seemed very positive about giving them a ride.  I was not wanting the huge dog in our vehicle and wanted to ask if the dog was well-behaved, but I didn’t have any paper.

It was vivid and seemed realistic, like these people are really out there waiting for a ride, and I can still see the handwriting.

I was remembering a friend.  I used to go to the 99 cent store, and they had scrunchies for a dollar–I thought it was a three-pack, but now I wonder if it was a two-pack.  I got this scrunchie that was stripes of different purples, so pretty.  I love purple.

But it was with other scrunchies that were not to my liking.  I remember one that was gray and black striped, and those aren’t my colors.  One was neon orange.  But to get the pretty purple scrunchie, I had to get the ones I didn’t like.

So I gave those ones to my friend who also had long hair and used scrunchies, but probably she would have liked the purple one best, like me. 

That friend, I loved her so much.  She was one of my first friends with kids.  I loved her kids also.  It took a lot for me to let them in.

We had some good times–at the park, getting food, by the river.  Bad times too, like at the doctor and when the little one was throwing a fit because she didn’t want to leave.

I had a dream about her also.  She was about to take a belly dancing class and was very happy.  I asked how the kids were, and she said they were good, at a birthday party.

I thought she would be my friend all my life.  I miss her.  I was in it for the long haul.  She stopped wanting anything to do with me.  I see bits of her husband’s news on facebook and feel voyeuristic.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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