1st 1 was I was travelling with Ian, Lizzie, and some other folks. I don’t know what city we were supposed to be in. Wherever it was, it was foreign to wherever we had been before. At some point, Ian found an abandoned structure. Soon after, we were joined by a multitude. Probably 30-50 other people. Everyone wanted to explore this thing. And explore we did. I remember tring to go down into this tower, but or some raeson we couldn’t. Maybe it was blocked. Ian then saw that there were step-like platforms leading up. It was almost straight out of a video game as the platforms were falling apart just enough to look dangerous, but also sturdy enough to use. So up we went.
I don’t remember what happened immediately next except that ian, Lizzie, and I (but not anyone else) ended up in this area that was wet, dirty, industrial, and clearly not meant to be explored. What I mean is the design was not commpatible to people just wandering around. There were 2 big, open cylinders which I somehow knew were some kind of turbine/generator/reactor things (though they clearly weren’t; they were just open spaces). Between the cylinders was this cramped area we had just enough room to walk in.
Once I’d taken this all in, I realized that the cylinder on the right, its floor was flooded with what looked like raw sewage. Keep in mind I’ve never seen raw sewage and it didn’t smel like anything, but somehow I knew it was. I then noticed that there was a snail-trail of sewage leading across the middle area to the next cylinder, which had a workable way up, if not stairway.
It as at about this time that Ian noticed the same thing and ventured into the stairway-cylinder. Finding footing difficult, he actually steppe3d into the sewage about up to his ankle. I coudln’t believe he wasn’t sickened by it. I, on the other hand, was nearirng the vomit stage. Despite his crap-soaked shoes, Ian pointed out that it was not far to the top. I wasn’t about to ruin my shoes and socks, so pulled off my shoes and began the process of removing my socks. I say “process” because it for some reason took me a while. On each foot I had 2 pairs.
It was at about this time that I felt a distinct sense of danger. I knew that soon, the entire chamber we were in would be filled with sewage. I knew that we’d drown in the shit. I also knew that this would be a very unpleasant death.
I soon came to.
Not long after, I fell asleep again and dreampt of the same area in which this sewage plant was situated. thsi time, a whole theme park had been built there with the plant a central attraction. At first, I tried to get back to the plant and felt very frustrated that I coudln’t find it or coudln’t get to it. At some point, I gave up and wandered around this area where people were I think cleaning up and getting ready to go. it was near the parking lots. At this point, I saw David.
David (don’t remember his last name) wsa a kid I knew in the SWEP (Student Work Experience Program) program run by the Oregon Comission for the Blind and held at Reed College every summer. David was a visually-impaired, quite bright and charming albino. During our time at SWEP, David and I had became good friends. I regret that I let that fade when I went to college and beyond. Then again, I suppose he let it fade as well.
I saw David in the small crowd. I ralized that he was with a crowd of SWEP kids. In fact, I think he was still a student participant despite the fact that according to the timeline, he’d also be in his early 30s. After a few seconds, someone pointed me out to David. We were both very taken aback. I made some comment on it having been 10-15 years. AT around this time, others ointed out how I’d barely aged and still looked really good. (I don’t know why my brain felt compelled to compliment me.)
David and I wandered to a nearby picnic table of other SWEP alums. There was Joe, the other visually-impaired albino, much more cranky that David and who had always insisted on wearing one of those irritating moustaches despite the fact that most teenagers look ridiculous with them. And Sherri was there. Though Sherri didn’t look like Sherri. And Eric, the total, very likely retarded boy with absolutel no social grace. And, finally, Nicolle. Though this girl didn’t even resemble Nicole.
Nicole Bontte (now probably married and with adifferent last name) was I think 1 of the half dozen girls I had a serious crush during the latter half of high school. As in all cases (except Cynthia’s), I hadn’t the guts to do anything about it. In fact, by the time I had the guts to even mention it, I was already with Cynthia. I know, big fucking coward. And pretty fucking selfish, for, the only reason I mentioned it to her was there was no way I coudl lose. Had she said she’d never been interested, oh well, I was already fucking a hot Mexican. Had she said that she, too, had been interested, which she did, then I got to feel all kinds of great. Even post-Cynthia I had been tempted to hook up with her, but had never gotten around to it. And of course when I was seriously considering this, I was probably 18 or 19.
So there’s Nicole. We all comment on how it’s been so long. Nicole, or maybe Sherri, has a couple of kids now.
(I should mention that I somehow have shoulder-length hair again, which has recently been washed, therefore wet, and therefore I keep pulling it back in a pony tail. Yeah, I know. Real attractive.)
Questions and comments keep swirling around what we’ve all been doing.
The dread beings.
I’m just waiting for it. I’m waiting for the, “So, Anton, do you have any kids?” And it comes.
“Not yet,” I chuckle nervously. I realize that implied in my statement is that I tried, which, in turn, implies that I tried with someone. I await the 2nd terrible question.
“Are you married?” The question never comes. I’m sorta saved by the bell when Pam (this really irritating, really condescending blonde woman who used to work for the Comission in a completely peripheral, yet ever-present role) shows up. I don’t like Pam. I’ve never liked Pam. I want her to go away. And so she of course doesn’t. She even makes some remakr about my being in the way or some shit like that.
We all head toward the cars. I’m now feeling out-of-place as I know I can’t go with them, but I don’t see Ian anywhere, so I’m left to stand around like a loser.
Can’t go with them.
I wonder, would I have been happy had I gone with them in any sense? Had I stayed in Oregon and gotten some shit job, not gone to college and just hung out with my friends from SWEP. It wa such an anomalous social experience. I partook for 3 summers. Yet, in the time between, I didn’t communicate with anyone from the program at all. it was never out of spite, I just didn’t do it. Strange. I was, in many ways, more at home at SWEP than anywhere else. Even thoug half the kids there were retarded. As I’ve been writing this, I even realize that, at the time, Ian and I qwren’t as close as we had been and have been since. I suppose this was a low point in my teen years, in my social existnce. And now, in the dream, I didn’t even belong with the other misfits.
I think part of me really misses those days. Even though they weren’t that long. I mean, they didn’t even last the whole summer. It was probably 2 months max. So a grand total of 6 months. Maybe it was the innocence of it that I miss. We were making minimum wage and loving it.
And Nicole. Even though we never hooked up, never even kised, in my mind’s eye, it seems ideal.
I miss Rachel.
Glad I have Succinctrix to kick me around.
