My dream last night:
I was at Rite Aid, shopping for who knows what. There was a mother and a daughter there, shopping for underwear. I remember thinking that the mother looked younger than the daughter although her hair was graying. It was in ringlets and hung to her shoulders. She was beautiful. She was telling her daughter that only prison parolees got underwear from Rite Aid. Her daughter laughed. They continued talking – about men, I think. I remember getting out a small notebook and taking notes on their conversation. They didn’t notice. At some point though, I felt the need to talk to them. By the time I did, the mother was gone and the daughter was replaced with an overweight, bald woman. I told her that her mother was beautiful and that “She looks so young!” but as I said it, I thought, I think I have the wrong mother-daughter duo. The daughter was ecstatic. “You should tell her that,” she said. “She’s got a bad body image. It’s her fault – she sleeps with a Ken doll every night. I sleep with a teddy bear. You shouldn’t surround yourself with six packs. A teddy bear has a gut, you know?” I nodded, because even though I thought she sounded crazy, she made a bit of sense.