Evelyn 12
I wake up early, before the alarm in Mum's room rings. Time to think about the dream. On the surface, easy to place, simply a man in our congregation. Very quiet, keeps to himself. Only things known about him are he came from Israel and is employed in the prison service.
And yet the dream was so vivid and so realistic. I ponder what it means to me, decide it's a warning. Go slow on the diary, don't overdose, it'll be powerful.
Over breakfast, I casually say, "Mum, I've had a chance to think about it. I'd like your help to ration out the diary."
She looks happy to hear this, then, "what made you think that?"
"It'll be really powerful, like say an adult drinking espresso or straight whisky. Too much at a time could be a real problem."
"Well dear, what pace do you think is right?"
"Give it to me after breakfast Saturday, I'll give it back by lunch. Gives me a week to think about each half day part."
She smiles, "I tossed and turned half the night, trying to figure a way to say exactly that. I'm relieved to see you're a sensible person. Very grown up for your age."
By now, I'm sure the gentle reader is overcome with curiosity, as to what juicy military secrets are enclosed therein.
None, if that's what you seek, look up Prof Goldstein's "History of the Commandos."
The Major wrote nothing secret. It was his feelings about his personal and professional life, his struggles with bureaucracy.
For me, it marks a watershed, a start into the adult world. Now I understand much better what awaits when I grow up. I start examining my strengths and weaknesses carefully, comparing against career requirements.
Brent's cousin transfers into James Bay Elementary. He's only half as much a geek, so when I get the chance I grab him.
Oh and the dresses, my aunt the journalist had a talk with Mum. Must have been tactful as Mum didn't kill her. The upshot is the aunt will take me clothes shopping before next school year starts.
That seems to be the way with Jews. Anyone getting too eccentric is gently dragged back toward the norm.
And yet the dream was so vivid and so realistic. I ponder what it means to me, decide it's a warning. Go slow on the diary, don't overdose, it'll be powerful.
Over breakfast, I casually say, "Mum, I've had a chance to think about it. I'd like your help to ration out the diary."
She looks happy to hear this, then, "what made you think that?"
"It'll be really powerful, like say an adult drinking espresso or straight whisky. Too much at a time could be a real problem."
"Well dear, what pace do you think is right?"
"Give it to me after breakfast Saturday, I'll give it back by lunch. Gives me a week to think about each half day part."
She smiles, "I tossed and turned half the night, trying to figure a way to say exactly that. I'm relieved to see you're a sensible person. Very grown up for your age."
By now, I'm sure the gentle reader is overcome with curiosity, as to what juicy military secrets are enclosed therein.
None, if that's what you seek, look up Prof Goldstein's "History of the Commandos."
The Major wrote nothing secret. It was his feelings about his personal and professional life, his struggles with bureaucracy.
For me, it marks a watershed, a start into the adult world. Now I understand much better what awaits when I grow up. I start examining my strengths and weaknesses carefully, comparing against career requirements.
Brent's cousin transfers into James Bay Elementary. He's only half as much a geek, so when I get the chance I grab him.
Oh and the dresses, my aunt the journalist had a talk with Mum. Must have been tactful as Mum didn't kill her. The upshot is the aunt will take me clothes shopping before next school year starts.
That seems to be the way with Jews. Anyone getting too eccentric is gently dragged back toward the norm.
posted by afghangirlscifi @ 8:07 AM
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