Tag Archives: judge

It’s all political

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I was in a dream…. a group oriented dream. It started off with me needing to get an answer to something when I get pulled into the random room doing…. nothing. Just waiting. At first I think it’s going to be a product review, of which we do get to review a few items and eat a few snacks in between, but some slobbish mother with kids hanging off of her is not monitoring them, and ones lying on the desk in front of me (about 2 or 3 years old), one is nursing, and one looks just old enough to be able to listen… less than 5 really. I know all these kids are mixed ethnicities, and she herself is white, tall (5’7), overweight, and poorly groomed/from the projects. Still, these kids were crowding my food and stealing tastes where I would catch them. The kid on the desk in front of me had cream cheese from a bagel in his mouth, then dessert… the nursing kid was taking bites of banana or something. Throughout this whole process, the mother doesn’t bother to discipline her child, but will just say sorry and let them continue.

Eventually I get up and leave, and after demoing the products, I’m waiting for the reward. When nothing happens, I get up and wander, only to be pulled into a different and abundantly spacious room with more pencils and slide shows, looking to judge or educate or whatever. I sit with some familiar faces from the last room and wait… looking at the slide show (the mother is gone by this point). But then it happens again. I get up and leave, make it outside, then get escorted into a different room with some of the same people and wait. There’s not point. There’s no purpose. I can’t figure it out.

I remember I was outside again walking on top of a concrete wall at night and looking at the ocean roll in over some beach with a real sense of wanderlust developing within, when security makes me come down, brings me in, and now I’m in a different room but with some level of purpose. To the right of this massive power point is a woman on a podium. She’s not a teacher, but a judge. Were going over politics now for some kind of rubbish when to the end on the right is a woman who discussess the impact of the judges wishes. I get an uneasy feeling and begin to disagree. Suddenly I hear a voice, and my minds eye suddenly pans right and zooms in on a woman who’s in her mid 40’s, purple hair, african american, and she has this wicked grin on her face…. just lurking with evil intent. Suddenly my alarm is blazing and I’m lifted from my dream wondering what the fuck that whole thing was about.

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Lingering on the Edge of Consciousness

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.

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A Job for Life

I’m at my former place of employment – Yangtze, and I’m begging for a job from Moe. I feel incredibly small… almost half his height; in real life however he’s only about 2 or 3 inches taller than me. He seems somewhat kinder and fatter than he use to be, but I don’t question it. He listens attentively to me and responds both kindly and favorably; then just as he was about to give me the okay to start working, the entire Yangtze crew of waitresses interjects between me and the boss. The odd thing is I don’t know any of them, but they all “know” me. The first girl is heavy set, snooty, and has dirty blonde hair; you can tell she smokes and drinks heavily from the condition of her skin and teeth. Anyway, she pipes in to speak against me and tells Moe I shouldn’t be hired back because they all had too many problems with me. Calmly and rationally, I confronted her and told her to tell me the problems she had with me, stating “I can’t take ownership or responsibility for my actions until you tell me what I did wrong.” She was dumb struck but trying to keep her composure, so I said “go ahead, tell me what I did wrong, and then I can tell you what you did wrong.” I heard this kind of “Oooo” in the background and “psh” off to the side. Obviously I was pissed. Here I am begging for a job because my life and my sons life is on the line, and then this bitch who doesn’t even know me decides to step in and dictate my life? Who the hell does she think she is!?! Never the less they all disperse and I kind of wander around the restaurant waiting for a response from Moe. Then another waitress steps forward and decides to “inform “me whats “wrong” with me, without actually telling me whats wrong. She was my height, black hair, African American, medium thickness with her weight; actually she was very pretty. She told me I should just leave because I’m gonna screw everyone over. I told her “I dont even know you!!! Who are you to say anything?”, but she just kept telling me I suck, I’m gonna screw everyone over, I should leave, etc… She finally leaves and I walk back over to Moe. He WAS going to give me the job, but now because of the waitresses, and my less than flattering performance on saying I was gonna tell the other waitress whats wrong with her, he decides he doesn’t want to anymore. I break-down in a hard, heavy, and painful cry, trying to keep it as quiet as possible which made the intensity worse. The only thing that ran through me was the feeling that dictation between life and death was made for me and my son; we had no hope. Moe saw me sobbing and he visibly felt bad, but had made up his mind. The dream ends.

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