How Handsome & I Met

Handsome's Version:

I did many things to impress George and none of them worked. Then we got married.

My Version:

I don't think we ever had a formal introduction. Handsome and I were in the same group of friends in high school. I remember that he was quiet, but then when he did talk, he was super hilarious. I laughed so hard when I was around him because his humor was really subtle or sometimes it was really obvious that it was subtle. I don't know how to explain it, but he was, and continues to be, soooo funny. 

But despite knowing who Handsome was, I don't ever remember having an actual conversation with him until right before his mission. A bunch of us went to this ice cream cookie place in Provo and I was with them. I was feeling pretty sad that day. College was a difficult time for me because, like a lot of people, I was healing from the heartaches of childhood and the heartaches that followed. The first step of healing is to irrigate the wound - ouch. So there I was, not knowing that I was about to step into the most emotionally difficult years of my life, and Handsome started talking to me. I don't know what we talked about, but I remember being so impressed with his clarity of mind and his maturity. And I was also impressed because he listened to what I said and I could tell he was hearing me. He wasn't just hearing my words, but he was hearing what I was actually trying to say. When he responded, I remember thinking, Wow, this boy is way more intellectually and emotionally enlightened than I ever gave him credit for. 

And then he was gone. The whole time he was gone I joked with our mutual friend, Mike Alger, that I was going to marry Handsome someday because of that conversation. I remember Mike responded, "Yeah, I'd marry Handsome too if he wasn't a dude."

So I had a whirlwind two years and then Handsome returned. Well, wait, he actually came home in the middle of his mission for surgery. For some reason I went over with some other girls to visit him even though I hardly knew him. The four of us girls and Handsome sat on his front lawn chatting. Handsome told me later that he was really confused why I was there since we hardly knew each other. Fate.

When Handsome returned I went to his homecoming talk and then hung out at his family's house to celebrate. A big group of us were sitting in the family room chatting when someone mentioned (as they always do to young returned missionaries) "Well Handsome, now you need to get married." Bubba Jackson looked at Handsome and then pointed to me as I was leaving. Handsome turned to me and said, "You wanna get married?" My face got red, I smiled and laughed nervously, and then I walked away. Well done, George, as always. 

But I invited him to a party a few months later and asked him out then. We got food and went to a BYU choir concert at the Provo tabernacle. We talked the whole time. It was really comfortable and fun. I felt so happy around him, but not giddy, so I dismissed him as a friend. Up until that point, Handsome had thought of me as nothing but an acquaintance, but after that date he decided he liked me and wanted to find out if we could be more than friends. 

So dates followed and we had a ton of fun talking and hanging out, but I wasn't interested in a relationship and he could tell. It was obvious to me that we were perfect for each other, but I had reasons for my reservations. First, I was getting over an ex-boy friend and I was hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Handsome and I got a long far better than any of the other boys, but Handsome was smack dab in the middle of discovering who he was and what he was capable of - I was disenchanted. A girl needs security, at least this girl did. I wouldn't necessarily say I was a gold-digger, but rather, an anxious-pile-of-nerves...never mind...let's just skip my emotional issues and the dating faux pas which directly resulted. Yes, it was staring me in the face, but frankly, I wasn't ready.

"So, should I keep asking you out on dates?" Handsome inquired of me one Saturday night after a particularly eventful day in the boy arena. I cringed. Is he really making me have a DTR now after I just told him about what had happened that day with some other boys? Is he really going to make me take a stand on our relationship when things had been so comfortable and safe in that metaphysical dimension of "friendship." But Handsome doesn't play games. He's kind, but he's also to-the-point.

"If you want to," I smiled. Whelp, Handsome was done. He was nice, of course, but decided the pursuit was over and he was moving on. He liked me yes, but he could see that I was confused and he wanted a girl that was enamored with him. Rightfully so. 

I texted him a week later to hang out and he came back. "Come watch a movie with me." And sat right next to him and asked if he wanted to share a blanket. He texted me afterwards and basically said that I was sending him mixed signals and he would appreciate it if I stopped doing that. I got the picture this time and we stopped hanging out and I went to Thailand, Mexico and then San Antonio for a mission of my own. 

He wrote me while I was doing the drops-of-Jupitar/finding-myself thing, not because he was hoping for anything between us, but because he was genuinely interested in my well being as an individual . He was dating other girls and enjoying life, but checked up on his friend, George, every now and then. He bought me super cute shoes one Christmas. All of my missionary companions knew the name "Handsome." I talked about him all the time. I wasn't in love with him, but I had so much respect for him and his style of thinking, and loved reminiscing about the things we did.

He and Mike Alger were the first friends to greet me when I returned home from my mission. Handsome and I fell back into going on "friend dates," we started singing in a music group together, and even took a road trip to Moab with some other people. Just as friends. I started going on dates with random people too and was generally miserable doing so. Not that there was anything wrong with the people I dated. They were all awesome. But I was trying to find someone that I connected with as much as I did with Handsome. My roommates were all convinced that I needed to date Handsome, but I refused. After my gallivants across the world, I had returned to a dwindling number of single friends, and I wasn't about to lose one of them by officially dating Handsome. No, the metaphysical "friendship" worked out just fine with me.

And then Handsome started dating someone.

He had had girlfriends while I was gone, but I was gone so I didn't have to watch it. One night after singing practice he walked me to the car to tell me about this awesome girl he had started dating. I acted super excited for him and made him tell me all about her. He spoke so highly of her and explained the joys of dating and suddenly I felt my blood drain. I realized that I was about to lose Handsome as a friend - something I had been avoiding for years. I had remedied the possibility by refusing to date him, because friendships tend to die when romantic relationships end. But I had never completely considered what would happen if one of us actually got married to someone else. The friendship would be over! 

It's always been my belief that personal friendships with members of opposite gender (who are not your spouse) are lame and potentially disastrous. I always knew that once I got married, my guy friend relationships would dissolve and I would be completely and totally devoted to my husband. But then I realized that Handsome felt the same way as I did, which meant if this relationship turned to marriage, then...

I obviously started freaking out...because I really, REALLY didn't want to lose Handsome's friendship! After Handsome left, I cried the entire 50 minutes home from singing practice. They weren't just little tears either. I was full on bawling. It was awful and I was actually quite surprised at my reaction. My roommates had little sympathy. They were mostly confused. "I thought you didn't like him? I thought you didn't want to date him?" "I don't! But I don't want him dating anyone else!"

Luckily for me, the relationship only lasted 2 weeks. The night I found out the relationship was over, I invited Handsome over to watch a movie with some friends. Ahhh, back to metaphysical, non-committal friendship nirvana. But it didn't last long. He started pursing another girl a few weeks later. What the heck? Didn't he understand that life would be so much simpler if he just stayed single? But we were just friends so I gave some relationship advice and let him go after the girl while I consoled myself by pursuing other guys. I went on some dates with pretty awesome guys, but they weren't really interested in me and I wasn't really interested in them. The first date always went really well, the second date was a little shaky, and by the third date both of us were ready to go home half way through. 

Then came the month that I lovingly term, "The May of Awkward Dates," aka "31 Days of Hell." One of the best things about my mission was that it took away my ability to pretend in front of people. But not being able to pretend in front of people can create a lot of awkward situations. People could read me like a book. I desperately tried to save my facades by throwing in confusing little twists and turns into my behavior. The result? Mushroom clouds of awkwardness. Basically what I learned from that month was that I wasn't happy and now I wasn't comfortable with any boys except for John. My close friends were going crazy. "Just date him!!!!" I had been praying for some kind of sign that I should date Handsome and the Lord delivered. I honestly believe the Lord purposely removed what tiny fragments of my facade were left, forcing me to  face the true George. The fact was that I didn't like the true George. It was the whole typical self-hatred thing. I wanted to be somebody else. I felt like I wasn't good enough. So in turn, I didn't want Handsome because he was perfect for George, and I didn't want to be her. 

I cried and cried one night nearing the end of May after yet another awkward experience. I prayed, begging God for some kind of relief from this nightmare. The answer was pretty clear: "George, you are a beautiful daughter of God, loving and capable." I think I really embraced that phrase that night. I had been working on it for years, but that night it sunk in pretty deep. I am cool, I thought. I'm cool by myself, without having to attach myself to something or someone else. I really felt good about myself, and I suddenly decided that I wanted to be myself. This may seem pretty stupid to everyone reading this, but to me, this was HUGE! Anyways, 5 minutes after I decided to like being me, I realized that I wanted to be with Handsome more than anyone in the world!

Problem: Handsome was pursuing another girl and he had no idea that I had any feelings toward him at all. I went to the temple the next morning and requested some divine well wishes before I confessed my undying love for Handsome. Well, I wasn't quite in love with him yet, but almost. I called Handsome and asked if we could hang out. A zoomed down to Provo as fast as I could safely go, preparing my "declaration of love" speach the whole way. I pulled up to his apartment, jolted up the stairs, knocked with fervent determination, took a deep breath, he answered the door, AND...I chickened out. "Hi Handsome." 

So he took me to an antique shop and we had fun doing nothing together. We hung out almost everyday that entire week. On Saturday we watched an outdoor movie together while we cuddled in a blanket holding hands, eating sushi. He took me home and kissed me goodnight, and I've been in love with him ever since. 

Dating lasted about 2 months. We fit like a glove, so it didn't take long until we were engaged. And I'm happy to report that Handsome and I are still friends. 

Craggle's Tales of Splendor

Lilypop hobblet and cast away Joe,

Eckles and mob-stops still tickle the toes.

Droplets and goblets my cadence is free,

Wash away darkness, like gloss on the sea.

A child's voice pierced through thick blackness. The sound waves from her song glowed silver as they rippled across the water's surface and into tangled vines and cracking branches. The song's light travelled through the muggy muck and dark abyss, casting a glimmering pathway.The swampy creek was littered with mulch and wooded debris, yet the boat moved effortlessly through the clutter. Thisck weeds snapped easily against the boat's keel and decaying tree limbs and dying roots shifted from their muddy graves allowing passage to the vessel and it's young traveler.

She was perched on the bow. A girl no more than five years of age, dressed in white linen. A soft, silvery glow radiated around her porcelain figure, providing light where there had been none. Comfortably sitting with her feet off to her side, hands rested on her lap, she gazed powerfully into the misty black while her song continued unbroken. It was an ongoing musical phrase that seemed to propel the boat forward. 

Kensington billow and fair brooks stock, 

The trees are listening, but they dare not talk.

"I wanna know what all this singing's 'bout," demanded a leathery man sitting in the back of the boat. 

"Shh! Brax," one of his companions harshly whispered. "You want the whole of Cragton to come poking about?" Three men occupied the stern. Two of the men were alert and edgy, armed with a wooden staffs and metal hooks. The third was an older, wrinkled barneby, relaxed against the side, staring up at the stars, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.  

Brax lowered his voice to a panicky whisper, "I just want to know what's going on! Three days of sailing in a swamp, fighting off devilish wolves and pick'n toads. Ah, but I still don't know what we're doing, where we going, who she is, and why she keeps on singing on!" His voice slowly increased decibels until his first companion grabbed Brax's collar, and frantically whispered "Shh!" 

Brax pushed him aside scoffing and cussing softly, "Crabin, you fix off. You don't know the upside or downside of this trekin' neither." 

"I know enough to keep my mouth shut and glued-"

"Yeah, you's glued with watered muck and potato pepper."

Crabin ripped out his chains ready for a fight when suddenly the third companion's low voice reverberated through the banter.

"The singing's what keeps us undead." 

Unsatisfied with that answer, Brax kicked up a rusty chain from the floor of the vessel and wrapped it tightly around his weathered hands preparing to mutiny. But he never got the chance, because in that moment the trees came alive.

LDS Women and the Priesthood

Soooooooo, I can't believe I'm going to write this, but I only have 8 followers so hopefully I won't offend too many people...but I'm going to write my opinion on women and the Priesthood in the LDS Church. [update: It has been brought to my attention that I only have 7 followers. Thank you.]

For those who are not familiar with LDS doctrine or practice, the Priesthood is God's authority and power to act in His name on Earth. All Church leadership is directed by the Priesthood. Currently, only worthy males hold this power and authority. Although women are extremely present and play a vital role in Church leadership, they always serve under Priesthood leadership.

This is a very difficult practice for most members to understand, especially in modern society. But most members support the practice because they have faith that God directs the Church. However, a growing number of women's groups have been speaking out and challenging the practice. Most recently, a small group of women wore pants to Church in oppostition to the status quo (most women wear dresses or skirts, although the Church doesn't require it) and last October a small group of women asked to be admitted to a meeting specifically held for Priesthood holders only.

Yesterday I read a blog post that sought to explain and defend the Church's position. It is an excellent post and I reccomend reading it and all the comments that follow because it provides a lot of well thought out arguments regarding the subject on both sides of the aisle.

However, I thought that all of the arguments lacked a certain perspective and I added my own two cents...and yes, I'm a whimp and I gave myself the name "An average active LDS Women" - but I've never spoken out like this before! I think this is an appropriate subject for this family history blog because I want my children to understand my position...so without further ado:

This is very beautiful…but honestly, it is just speculation. I agree there are three movements in the church: people who speculate why God does not allow women to exercise the Priesthood, people who are trying to convince leaders of the church that women should exercise the Priesthood, and then those who are doing nothing. Personally, I think everyone in these categories is misguided.

I believe the reason why women don’t hold or exercise the Priesthood is because God set it up like that in 1830. End of story. But 1830 was a long time ago. And there’s no official document explaining why women can’t hold and exercise the Priesthood.

As interesting as all of this discussion is (and it is very interesting, I mean no disrespect), I don’t care what any of you have to say as much as I care to know what God has to say on the subject. And I don’t care what you all think God thinks. I want to know for myself what He thinks. If I can’t hold the Priesthood, I at least want to know why. I’m not a bad person for wanting that. I’m an intelligent, humble child of God. The answer might be: I’m not going to tell you right now…but currently, I don’t even know if the Church has formally brought up the issue with the Lord. I’m almost positive that the Brethren have been praying about it, but I don’t know that for sure, and it’s something I would like to know.

In my opinion, it seems perfectly reasonable for the women of the Church to join together and ask the First Presidency to ask God why women can’t hold the Priesthood.

To those who want the status quo changed, and women who are okay with the status quo remaining as is (which I don’t really believe is the majority of women in the Church. Yes, no one wants to be a bishop, but we’d all do it if the Lord asked us to, and we’d all shout for joy if a revelation was given stating that women could now hold the Priesthood), I suggest we stop speculating about what God would say, and start asking for His direction.

I have faith in the Lord’s living Church. I believe revelation exists today and we can have access to it. Not just personal revelation, but Church-wide revelation as well. Our Church is built on sincere questions from the faithful. That’s how the Priesthood was first established: by a question.

That’s what happened with blacks and the Priesthood. Social pressure didn’t change Church policy. Social pressure pressured the Brethren to formally ask God for an answer and He gave it.

Regarding the Church’s stance on same-gender marriage, the Proclamation on the Family is pretty clear, so good luck on that one to those who disagree. I’m not saying give up, but the Proclamation is enough for me to put that issue at rest.

But women and the Priesthood? We don’t have any formal revelation or document directing this issue or offering an explanation.

Let us appeal to the First Presidency and request an answer from God. And appealing doesn’t mean trying to get into the Conference Center during Priesthood meeting or wearing pants to church. Although these gestures are not wrong in and of themselves, and I probably wouldn’t be so interested in the subject if these gestures had not occurred, I believe that this is the wrong way to go about it. But more importantly, I also believe this is the long way to go about it. And sitting around speculating why things are the way they are without any formal doctrine to back it up is also not very effective.

Let’s go to our bishops and tell them we want some formal guidance on the issue and we want it from the First Presidency. Let’s write Linda Burton and ask. If all the women of the Church ask for this, then I think the First Presidency will respond. They love us. They want to connect us with the Lord. This is their purpose. And yes, there is personal revelation, but this issue is so worldwide, I believe it deserves a worldwide response.

The First Presidency might respond, “We have asked and what we’ve said in Conference is all we’ve got right now.” But at least we’d know. They might also respond stating, “The Lord has heard the appeal of the women of the Church and this is His response…”. And wouldn’t it be wonderful to have that knowledge?

Stop speculating, stop strong-arming Church leaders, stop doing nothing. This worldwide discussion has revealed that a lot of women in the Church are thinking about the issue. Now let’s ask God to join the discussion.

A Presumptuous Little Fleck

A fleck of falling dust can't maneuver it's course by desperately clinging to the particles of air

...unless she believes she is Star Dust. 

If this belief be held, whether in vain or in truth,  the fleck will most certainly wrangle the fates of atmospheric pressure, laugh at the moon's stolen glow, and wield the elements to bid her delight. 

For a spark of ancient majesty blazes within the stuff of stars and cannot be unlit. 

Fall on little fleck, and set your course.

An Organic Malfunction

A glitch in the system.

A hormone releases.

Enveloping sadness

Secretes, verging madness.

Despondent dejection,

A subtle intrusion,

Appears undetected

Obscured and restricted.

A muted, dull tide

Rises slow in succession

Until the god-child

Is awoken and puzzled.

"The source of this gloom

remains hidden from me."

Reflexively Mind guts

the archives of memory.

Backwardly clambering,

Searching for clarity.

Not forgetful, unforgiving

Mind uncovers all past erring.

A mistep in dancing,

Regrets proving fancy.

A toil in vain,

A shipwreck of shame.

Personality, jealously

Rivalry, negligence.

With a glance at the past

Melancholy's explained

By a fear that the god-child

Will foible again.

An organic malfunction,

Lies deeply embedded

Within the strange folds

Of biological credit.

Disappearing as quickly

As it came to existence

It slips away silently,

Carefully reticent.

Mind, secretion has ended

The clouds have dispelled.

There's no need to expound

On these memories found.

But the Mind keeps 

Explaining,

Indicting, and

Claiming.

'Til out of whole cloth

A depression is gaining-

Momentum and strength

And perversion and greed!

The god-child is crestfallen,

For she simply agreed.

Recurring Dream

Dream #1

The hot summer afternoon is thick and caramelized. Globs of minutes and crystalized seconds amalgamate into a heavy mound that grows bigger and bigger ..and bigger.... and bigger, and then the blob gives way to gravity, pulling against the sticky goo until it slides a few millimeters down the inside of an upside down plastic honey bear.

Bored, I grab the bottle and run upstairs to the hot deck and into the air-conditioned house. As I enter I am met with a laugh. A laugh that tickles my temporal lobe, but sends shocks to my pre-frontal cortex. A laugh that--

That laugh.

My blood drains.

That vibrant explosion of vocal happiness. I don't have to look to know that her eyes are closed, her head is thrown back, and her hand is set on her collar bone as if she was keeping the laugh from bursting out of her vocal chords.

I turn the corner and cards flutter into my face from across the room. I swat them away, but the queen of hearts gets stuck in my hair. "Whoops...," Caleb breathes out a laugh, shakes his head smiling, and then looks up matter-of-factly and points to them with a grin, "let me try that one again. Just onnnne second" He holds up his hands indicating that everyone should wait as he snatches each card around the room. The 16-year-old Clint laughs bashfully, rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the ground smiling. "Ahhhhh!!! Blozodianlainagian!" Andre swings into the room via a gigantic glass chandelier, yelling and beating his shirtless chest and then he jumps out the window. "Yeah, I'm excited for college," Kirsten explains to them. "But I'm afraid to talk to boys." "Do you want to hear the new song I wrote?" Clint asks eagerly, but humbly. And then she sees me and gasps--

"George!"

Her hand reaches to her collar bone to keep the emotion from bursting out of her heart. I stare horrified. The she laughs, "How's it going Georgie?

I'm horrified.

I can't breath, I can't move, I can't--

"Hey Keith, look who's here."

"Oh wow, George. How have you--"

"Okay! okay. I'm ready," Caleb jumps in between us to face them. He smiles widely and offers them the deck. "Pick a card, any card." His eyebrows bounce with excitement. "Okay...And you don't have to, uh...you don't have to, uh....you don't have to pick..."

Words dissolve around me, but my stare pierces through, spotlighting the two adult profiles.

They are not supposed to be here.

Not here at the Lindon house. Why are they here? They can only be here when Caleb is 1, and Kirsten needs to be 12.

My hand reaches to my head in confusion.

What the Crap is going on? Why did I think that they were...? Why do we live with Lane and Marcia now? If they are here, then why haven't we been with them for the last 8 years?

I look up and they hand Caleb an authentic Chinese finger trap, Kirsten's caressing a Cambodian cloth doll, Clint's plucking a Guatemalan lute and Andre's admiring his new African running sandals.

...A vacation? They've been on ...vacation?

"And Rome was just incredible. But Venice took my breath away. And the Louvre! I finally got to see the Louvre. Keith got to go once before, but I had to stay behind to take care of kids."

"I loved Moscow because I love Tetris," he interjects "I've won 3 national competitions in Chess, and I'm the current World Champion of board games. But my favorite thing has been following Star Trek Conventions around the globe." He lifts his hand over his heart and activates his communicator. "Beam me up, Scottie."

Everyone laughs, except me.

"You guys, Jerusalem was such a spiritual experience. I wrote a book about it. In fact, I've written 5 books. Can you believe that? Do you want a signed copy?"

My siblings are laughing and smiling. Andre is 5 and he keeps trying to jump into our mom's arms, but she's not paying attention. She's laughing and signing her name in books. She throws me a copy and I open the front cover: "Don't ever give up your dreams, -Nan."

I stare at the words. I stare. and stare. and stare. and then: "Where have you been?" I whisper. Commotion and laughter continues.

"Where have you been!" I shriek.

They both look up with frozen smiles..."What?"

"We thought you were dead! We had a funeral!" Silence. "It's been years! and you were on vacation? You've been on a vacation! We're your children..." I pause anxiously searching for their remorse. She stares back at me and her frozen smile melts into confusion. "You left us!" I scream and then start sobbing and gasping for air. "Other people had to take us! You made other people take your responsibility so that you could have fun! I'm so embarrassed, I'm so ashamed!" Choking on sobs, I can hardly speak. "These kids needed you! ....I needed you! You left us! What were you thinking?!" I throw my hand up onto my collar bone to keep the pain from bursting out of my chest.

Her stare turns blank. He grabs his wrist and feels his watch. My siblings stare at me horrified.

"Well, anyways we just wanted to stop by and say hi and give you some souvenirs, kids. I hope you liked them." She starts laughing. "You guys have really grown up!"

"Yeah, Clint you look just like me now," he says smiling happily. Clint turns to him with deep, sad eyes.

"K, Keith, we've got to catch our next flight. We will miss you guys so much! Muah! Muah! Love you!"

"Bye." Caleb offers with a half smile and a little wave, cards dropping from his clutch. Yellow sunshine follows them out the door leaving behind grey walls and shadows. They leave and the front door shuts. Click.

Everyone stares.

I launch the honey bear bottle and it shatters against the closed door. Time splatters in a sticky mess over our clothes and sticks between our fingers.

...and then I awake.

Dream #2:

"You didn't know that?" Mike stares at me with his mouth half open in disbelief. "Yeah, Keith is still alive."

Honk-Honk.

He looks over his shoulder, and turns back with a smile. "Whelp, gotta go." He throws open the door, his soccer bag swings against the doorframe and gets caught on the door handle. He jerks it and toy semi truck falls out a pocket and lands onto the weather stripping.

The door slams noiselessly, and a floating thought bubble falls gently to the ground displaying the word: "Crash!"

Lane walks anxiously into the entry way and throws open the coat closet pulling out coats. "Are you going to Marci's piano concert? We have to leave in 5 minutes."

He tosses black velvet coats out of the closet and they float across the house, looking for their owners.

"Is my dad still alive?"

"Huh?" Lane turns slightly from his task, positioning his good ear to hear my question.

"I thought my dad was dead!"

He turns suddenly and stares at me intently. "What do you mean?"

"Mike said my dad is alive! Is that true!?"

"Well, barely." Lane turns back to the closet and continues throwing out velvet coats.

"You LIED to ME!!! Look at me!"

Lane turns again, "What are you talking about? No one lied to you."

"What do you mean no one lied to me?! I THOUGHT MY DAD WAS-"

Suddenly my gaze is caught by an abandoned nail sticking out of the  drywall - the remains of a hanging memory. It was where words to Lullaby hung, but over the years the letters fell off one by one until the canvas was blank.

"George," Lane walked over, "We never took him off life-support, so technically he's still alive. But in all reality, he's been a vegetable this entire time-"

"A vegetable? Don't call my Father a vegetable!"

"George, this is why we didn't tell you. Knowing your mom and your dad both died gave you the closure you needed to move on with your life. It was the best decision we knew to make."

"How often do you get to seen him?"

"I've only seen him a couple times since the accident."

"He's been alive 10 years and you've only seen him twice?!!!"

The image surfaces in my mind. Donned in faded yellow robe and pink pajamas, shriveled in his wheelchair, staring at nothing for 10 years. He stopped listening for the sounds of his children, because they never came.

...and then I awake.

Dream #3 - framework only

Ring, ring.

"Hello?" 

"George, this is Lane. Your father just died. We need to start funeral arrangements. Please come to the house so we can discuss more."

Click.

"Who was that, George?" asked a familar aquaintance. 

"It was my uncle. He said that my dad is finally dead," I explained nonchalantly. 

"I thought your dad died in that car accident 12 years ago?" the friend inquired. 

Confused, I search my memories.

"No, he's been alive. He had pretty severe brain injuries, but he can still function. He talks a little bit, but not very much. He just sits and watches TV all day. At least that's what I'm told. I've never been by to visit him." 

"Where is he staying?" the familiar aquaintance asks.

"Yes, in a rehab home, just down the street from here."

"Why haven't you ever tried to visit him?" they ask.

"I don't know. I've been busy. I forgot about him," I shrug.

The aquaintence stares at me in disgust, "I can't believe your dad has been alive this whole time and you forgot about him. What kind of a daughter are you?"

...and then I awake.