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sarah, my father, and a brief vision of hell

No new entries on Sarah's page. But she changed her picture. I stared and stared. Her hair is red again. Was it red the last time I saw her? I think so. It's longer now, down to her shoulders, maybe past. There was a comment from L. responding to Sarah's dream, about the house they grew up in--the one they were still based in when I met them ten years ago. She was blonde then.

My father left his voice in my answering machine Saturday. It wasn't until the following evening--yesterday--that I gathered the courage to return his call. He and his wife have to pick her sister up at the airport next month and might visit the city. He said they might stop by secret motel for a visit. This is alarming news! I don't handle visitors very well. I told him I might visit the valley sometime next month and will certainly see him then if I happen to be unavailable when he comes to the city. Yes, I am a horrible person.

I received a brief vision of hell this morning while I was preparing to leave for work. I imagined an afterlife in which I'm stuck with J., my sister S.'s husband. It's just J. and myself in this little diner where S. and J. used to take me and my parents whenever we visited them in Atwater many, many years ago when I was still a teenager. There are no other patrons or staff in the diner. Just J. sitting across from me, sunlight in the windows. I'm waiting for breakfast but our orders never arrive. And J. talks about nothing but cars and I have to listen forever and ever. I'm looking around for the waitress, and J. just babbles on and on about fanbelts and engine coolant and complicated mechanical repairs, forever and ever. I didn't DREAM this; it was just something that started playing in my head after I was already up and preparing for the impact of Monday. I don't know what made me think of it.

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