I should talk about this more, but I'm tired and have to work in the morning, so I won't.
For some reason -- the weather? The need to walk everywhere to watch both the Golden Gopher volleyball and men's basketball teams? My lack of sleep? -- I kept re-thinking all day yesterday (Friday) of a dream (and I really do mean that, even after I describe it to you) I've had for a long time. Namely, that I was adopted. Specifically, my parents flying out to Los Angeles (where they left me at a church or something) to find me. I would be all bitter, and yet they would insist that I fly to Minnesota to see the entire family and to reconnect. And knowing that all they want to do is parade me around and make themselves feel good about finding me, I lash out, verbally and then, on my last day there, physically. I never find a family, you see, and I end up being molested throughout my childhood. And so I blame my folks for ruining my life from Day One, and all I do the entire weekend I'm up in Minnesota is yell at them, throw things at them, and, finally, beat them up.
I should explain more later. Let's just say that I've felt like an outcast from my family for a long, long time. What prompted me to ruminate on it? No clue.
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