Last night I jumped in the car with some guy in my dreams complaining that my hair was still wet after I’d washed it a while ago. He seemed to be amazed that it was still wet.

Then I was cooking food at this little concession stand in the middle of some crowded place. I wasn’t cooking anything intricate or anything like that, just warming up macaroni and cheese and things like that. This young girl with long straight blonde hair sat down on a stool at the counter to have some macaroni and cheese. The meal cost $5 and I guess it was my own store because I knew that the customer’s money was mine to keep. The girl was obviously a regular and I asked her how she would feel about eating macaroni and cheese for lunch every day. “I love macaroni and cheese,” she said. So I knew I at least had a regular $5 that I could count on from her.

In another dream, I appeared to be in a huge and crowded building. I think an event like a show of some kind was going on. Someone there was telling me they were heading back to Europe soon. Everyone had taken their shoes off during the show, but afterward, I was singing along to a tune in my head while we all put our shoes back on and then proceeded to leave the building. It seemed like Kim might have been with me all of a sudden. The Kim that I knew back east. We passed by a huge window and could see a huge and vivid rainbow in the sky. I excitedly exclaimed, “Frau Regenbogen! That’s me! Frau Regenbogen knows her name! Sie weiß!”

So that’s it for dreams. In reality, I am enjoying the few remaining hours of peace before the barrage of landscaping and woodworking sounds come to distract the shit out of me. We set up the Windows laptop/tablet so I can hibernate in the bedroom and use it in there when the guy starts his shit. It’s been terrible. Shit starts up shortly after 10 a.m. and doesn’t stop until after dark. This has gotten way too extreme for any neighborhood, let alone a retirement community.

We are definitely going to have to complain about this guy. The question is how to do it without getting into trouble ourselves. You know how people are… no matter how right you may be, you are always taking a risk whenever you complain about someone/something or try to fight for what’s right. The problem is that everybody’s buddies with everybody here, so nobody’s going to say anything unless he literally started doing this 24/7. Although this guy is at the edge of the park, unfortunately, there are no houses behind the wall that runs behind him, and he is not close to any other streets. So he is going to know that whoever complained lives on this street, even if we figure out a way to complain anonymously.

The guy is white so he can’t play the race card, but how the hell do we know that he isn’t best buds with a cop or something like that? We know firsthand what can happen, and again, it doesn’t matter how right you may be. People have a way of reacting as if you’re asking them to kill each and every one of their loved ones slowly and painfully, and not actually making a totally reasonable request of them. It’s happened to me before and it’s happened to others as well. So we have to really think this through otherwise I will simply have to learn to live with it and hope that it backs off when the weather warms up. It’s just that we’re still months away from any warmth coming to the rescue. And who knows? Maybe this guy can stand the heat. Bob sure can.

I heard movement at Bob’s place this morning, but no loud tools or machinery yet. I’m just tired of being run from room to room in this place. Run out of the living room. Run out of the laundry room. What happens when I’m boxed in by this shit and there’s nowhere left to run to? Pull the plugs on the instruments of torture and strangle them with the cords? I’d love to, but as we know, that’s pure fantasy.

Later…

Writing prompt… If you could change one thing about your present life, what would it be?

That is so hard to really say what I would change because I have lived many years now and I’ve had so many experiences. Our lives are like one huge book where there is always room for editing. But since I am being asked about my present life, I think I would give myself a brand new thyroid that worked perfectly well on its own. If I couldn’t do that then I would make this park a quieter place to live, with less annoying daytime distractions.

Writing prompt… If you could go back in time and change one thing from your past, what would it be?

Well, unless I could have been born to an entirely different set of parents, I would have made my own parents much better parents than they actually were if I could have. If not, I would then definitely not have gone to court 15 years ago when summoned to. I had a bad feeling that there was corruption involved and that I would be screwed over if I did go, and I was. Had I listened to my gut I wouldn’t have lost 6 months of my freedom, thousands of dollars, and suffered a world of mental anguish and frustration beyond belief. Instead, I stupidly walked into the trap they had waiting for me. Lesson learned, though, on ignoring what our gut instinct tells us.

Writing prompt… What was your favorite toy?

Probably my Barbies. I could spend all weekend playing with my dolls and all their little outfits and dollhouses that they lived in as a kid. Especially during the brutal winter months when I wasn’t outdoors making snowmen or snow angels.

Writing prompt… Did you ever get lost as a kid?

It wasn’t so much that I got lost as opposed to that my family lost me. We were all at the exposition one summer, an amusement park not just with rides, but with several vendors set up selling things as is the case with most amusement parks. I don’t know how the hell my parents got into this, but they had a booth set up where they were selling cheese.

At one point I ended up in the Coliseum engrossed in watching the circus. I was under the understanding that my parents knew exactly where I was, but when I returned to them I found my mother in tears talking to the police. I guess they must have thought I either got lost or had been abducted.

Writing prompt… Who was your best friend in elementary school?

That would be Jenny. I was 9 years old when we met and she was 10. Like most kids, I was willing to be friends with just about anybody. Had I had the wisdom I have now as a child I probably would not have bothered with her because she was so bossy and domineering and just plain selfish. It was Jenny’s way or no way. I didn’t have a very strong backbone of my own back then and so I let her lead while I followed.

We were friends into our early twenties when she decided to dump me because I had too many problems for her to deal with. She was the type that could only handle those who were all fluff and sunshine. I was still young and so I resented her for this at first, but later came to realize it really was all for the best since we were just two totally different individuals and she had never really been a true friend to begin with. We did have some fun and funny moments along the way and so I remember that instead of just what a stingy bitch she came to be with very little compassion and understanding for others, not to mention a bad influence on me. She’s the one that got me started smoking, though I managed to quit in 1997.

Writing prompts… Did you ever run away from home as a kid?

I did. But it was only to the playground of the Jewish Community Center, and it was only for a few hours. My 13-year-old self finally started getting cold and realized that even though her mother was the biggest bitch on earth, she couldn’t just stay out there and sit on the swings for the rest of her life either. I would need to eventually eat. I would need to brush my teeth. I would need to drink a glass of water. I would need to take a shower. And I would also need a much more comfortable place to sleep than the frozen ground of the playground that was lightly dusted with snow.