I wish I could remember it.
I was walking to my sons appointment earlier and I remember a fragment of a dream I had – but no more than a fragment.
Essentially I’m walking away and I see a tattoo on my arm from a second-person perspective, as though I were following myself from behind at a distance. Then I thought of Pastor Rice and his homophobia statement, and was transported back to the Rochester SDA church. He was asking questions about things that were essentially bad like “who watches secular t.v.” and “who plays videogames” – half the people were liars since they didn’t raise their hand. Well finally he asks “who here has a tattoo”? Suddenly Ryan Upson is sitting right next to me with his hand raised, and as is mine. We’re showing off out tattoos to each other when I can feel someones judgmental eyes burrowing into me like I’d done something horribly wrong; it was Ryan’s brother Jason, who was putting me down without a word. Even though he was a few pews behind me, I could feel both his presence and detect his thoughts; then again I was usually able to read him well anyway… back when we were friends.
Sadly that’s all I can remember. Truth be told, I do want a tattoo. I think, other than the obvious correlation to the events that occurred at camp meeting, this is more about the fact that I want to be who I really am without feeling judged or persecuted. On the one hand I don’t want the church coming after me; on the other hand I want to be who I’m really meant to be, despite what others think.
The problem is I care what they think.