Thursday, March 1

Very Suspicious

I will be living in a small, rundown cabin on the south end of campus next quarter. It used to belong to someone's grandparents; they are either dead or they don't know someone is letting me stay there.
Inside there are two stoves, one that looks like a small electric cooktop, and another which looks like it could be the kerosene stove my grandparents described from their first home in Alabama. It is encrusted with black grease, and I decide to test it out to see if it still works. I turn the knob on the righ burner. Nothing happens, except it makes a single loud pop. I lean in to listen for the sound of gas and it pops again. I realize it's probably a really stupid idea to stick my head next to a popping stove and quickly turn the knob off. I smell for gas in vain, then stupidly repeat the process. When finished I decide I should leave the cabin, expecting it to explode at any moment.

In the parking lot below I meet some schoolmates, and the orthodontist is implied. I think I was supposed to go in months ago, and the flourescent lighting was especially suspicious.

Driving through Normandy Park in the wrong direction I try to eat breakfast at an undergound restaurant with Alex, but instead I find myself on stage, at the dress rehearsal for my dance recital. I am in the class of three and four year-olds, dressed in a yellow tutu, and singing to Mary Poppins. I don't remember ever taking this class, and I hope my body will remember what it suppsedly learned. It does. I tap dance along with the rest of the (very old) four year-olds, fly around stage, and sing loudly and off-key.

Now I stand in my grandparent's kitchen. I walk across the room towards my grandmother, who is making cookies, but as I approach she doens't get any bigger. I stand behind her and she only comes up to my belly button. Her hair is very soft. I think she must be dying. She walks in one direction to the living room and I go around the other way. I say confusedly to Laura that she must have shrunken, and my grandma nods uncomprehendingly from her seat on the comparatively giant sofa.

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