Smooth Sailin'

The ironic thing about my life was that the defining moment of my childhood happened the summer before third grade, in Indiana, on a subconscious level. That's when they spirits finally gave up the game they were playing, and told me what "the catch" was to my promised wonderful life story. After we moved, I wouldn't talk to anyone at the new school (It also came up later, "you will appear crudely drawn." "Huh?" "Like a stick figure." "What?" "Stick figure." of course, that made no sense to me at all, how weird. They meant they were doing something to my aura to make it appear weak, so people wouldn't want to pick on me). Anyway... I was embarrassed, that was a situation I didn't even think of. The only two things I could think of, were homelessness which made no sense, and headgear. That's the subconscious mind of a little kid for you. They told me this in my sleep, and then said, "Let it process." And the joke was smooth sailin', of course, to point out this transition is smoother than you would expect, from excitement on moving to a new house, to horrible rancid disappointment. It almost seemed like I new that was happening, which makes no sense, I know, but it's true. The dream I had, there was the number 8, to represent age 8, and me dancing as Ruffapalooza or whater that weird kid character I saw one time on Nick at Night as a kid was called. It looked like I was doing aerobics by myself, which was a reference to us as kids (my friends, Patty, Debi, and Kristen) thinking doing aerobic exercise like what would you call it? Jazzercise, I guess, looked stupid and dumb. Then... Age 16. Ruffapalooza drinking alcohol. Then... Age 23. Ruffapalooza on the street, getting high on heroin. It was a nightmare that didn't seem to go anywhere at all. That's why I call it a nightmare that lacked emphasis. Actually, clearly, that situation made no sense, so.. I remember it though, is the thing, it came up recently, in discussion with Ian. Actually, the psyche seemed to be reexamining the processing of that particular nightmare or annoying dream, on a level when the psyche is older and better developed. It was during the day though, was the thing. It kept coming up randomly in my head. What was the other issue that maybe needed therapy? Actually, nothing needed therapy was the thing, except for my dad's tickling of me. Patty and how she insisted on us watching Maury, as the four of us kids were falling apart. No playing kid games. We were growing up, so Patty insisted on us watching Maury.