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There was a swingset outside, and I got onto one of them to swing.  There were other people around me, some of them kids.  I remember watching as someone wanted to swing in a dangerous way.

To our right, in the distance, was a field and beyond that, some kind of school and playground.  There was a fence at the bottom of a small, grassy hill behind the swingset.  To our left, another field extended.

There was a little boy nearby who I watched closely.  he was using some rocks to play dangerously as well, either hurting himself or hurting animals.  When I approached him, I advised him to play more safely, especially as a very long, thick worm was approaching us.  I told him not to hurt it.  But as it encroached, I made for us both to back away.  A rattle snake appeared.  It was clear that we were both in danger.  I guided us away but he was still bitten.  There were many snakes suddenly.  The snakes were able to fling their venom as we made our way across the field.  I had to carry him at one point I think.  I also bumped into some childhood friends.

I recall it being very stressful to avoid the snakes, and that there was someone nearby who was trying to apprehend them by applying their thumbs to two spots on the backs of the rattlers, near their heads.  It was a very dangerous trick that didn’t seem to have any affect at all, and was grossing me out to watch, since the rattlers head changed shape so fluidly, as if it didn’t have any bones.  The boy was bitten more than once I think.

When I went back, I told the daycare workers about the boy’s bites and that he needed to see the doctor.  I had already been on the list, and was taken off.  There were two, adult, Asian workers and other children all around another swingset, closer to the school.  I went into some little booth or hut and helped some taller, Asian, young guy with bites or blemishes on his back.  One especially needed attention.  He complained that he usually used needles, but laughed as he did so.  Then he left and I didn’t see him again.

Somehow, I was in a restaurant suddenly, embedded deep in an old daycare.  there was a very cute little Japanese waitress whom allowed me to sit in a booth in her busy restaurant.  She was all bubbles and happiness, glad to hear from me.  I went away from my booth to encounter some people I recognized from elementary school in a hallway: Christ K. and Keith, and perhaps a couple others.  I remember looking at Chris and thinking about how he had recently had to kill someone and that it was not the only time; he had killed two people, with a gun, in his life, due to exceptional circumstances.  I wondered how it was that he could continue on like he normally did, having killed someone.

I went back to talk to the Japanese girl and saw that my booth had been filled.  She and her friends interacted with a lot of laughter and affection.  It became a point that was mentioned, how I did not have friends like that, and actually had a lot of strange encounters instead to deal with, including having murderers for “friends” (friends in italics on purpose, as Chris doesn’t really talk to me).  She acted surprised.

I forget now, but I also recall being with her and with a few others as we exited the building.  We came out through some kind of portal or other doorway that I’m not familiar with, into the back courtyard of the daycare-esque building.  Tall grasses had overgrown everything, including a blue-grey mosaic on the ground, laid with thick slabs that were arranged in a decorative, circular pattern.  I wondered, and asked if she was familiar with it.  She seemed to slow her bubbly nature down when she saw it, and got lost in a reverie, as if thinking hard or otherwise affected by it.

I then remember being in a car, driving along a narrow roadway over some water.  I was going with some people I knew, perhaps Julia or my family.  Anyway, my phone rang or I got a text from someone who asked me where I would be staying in the next couple days.  I said that I had no plans.  The boy on the other end said that was good news, because he might have to enlist me and another boy to stay overnight at his restaurant, which was failing, and would need attendants if it was abandoned.  He called it, “Mick’s”, or something.

When I got to the restaurant, we were all surprised to see that it was busy and had apparently been redone.  We were lead inside immediately and brought to a very small, round, white table.  As I was walking down the hall towards our table, I got a text from Steve: “I was awake”; it was a cryptic message that I interpreted to mean, “I was awake when you told (the Japanese girl?  In the morning?) about the murders of Chris”.  I have no other clue what he could be talking about.  Steve sat at one end, and I sat on the other, next to empty chairs on either side of me.  I thought Julia would sit in one, Jen (Steve’s wife) would sit, and Jen’s baby would be additionally seated at some point, too.

I have memories of a dream taking place in my old apartment, which I shared with my Mother’s Ex.  He was there in the dream, as was my mother and my little, half-brother.  There was an issue about me not being able to find my uniform for combat sports.  I was growing very frustrated and was climbing over a lot of junk in my room, pushing aside hangers full of clothes and in general, found the place to look like some kind of forgotten, back cargo storage area of a failed clothing store.  My mom was yelling in the background, frustrated.  I also couldn’t find my shorts?

I interacted with my mother’s ex briefly.  he was showing me how he had left me two containers of food from a restaurant he had been two; one was a cinnamon bun or two, and one was a container of tomato-sauce-and-spaghetti.  I was busy while he told me about it, and he noticed; he said, “You don’t sound so enthusiastic” or something like that.

I also remember but don’t remember when, that an alter of mine had said something had “changed”, and I can vaguely sense that they meant that things had “changed” in their opinion of Julia because of something she had said.  Can’t be sure.

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