On The Subject Of French Teenagers Dress
meaning of a really odd dream?
starts off im with my bf and my cousin and we go on a spooky ride…its quite odd cos we are only going up a road but it felt like a spooky ride anyway.
We return to my cousins house where my aunt is in her bed watching t.v
i don’t hang around for long and make my way to my grans.
I find my self at my grans but this weird creature is there…
It was human but it wasn’t…chalk white skin….short blonde almost white hair…piercing blue eyes that gave away madness and his hands wern’t hands…
im not to sure how to describe it…
imaging you hands have became a stump..doesn’t sounds to threatening but i seen a vision of him sticking them through someone…
I run out the house towards the train station near my grans…but when i look behind shes running after me..
I get to the station to find these small van like coaches and the german army with the british queen… I go down and somehow dressed like them…im ushered onto one of the vans with these other teenagers…
i ask if anyone ( in german) if they can speak english
the first boy replys french is the only other lanugage he can speak
but the second boy speak english…
It is him that tells me that they are escorting the queen away from the counrty due to the creatures…
The van is going along the moterway ( 80 mph we travel at roughly) and one of the slide doors is open and the boy from ealier is looking out….
he nearly falls but grabs my zipper and nearly goes out but i pull him back in…
the van slows down and i see the British army on the other side…i jump out the van and greet them and im directed to my friends who welcome me…
We then ens up at this place and we are playing a massive game of hide and seek….I see an old chruch and decide to hide there…i go in deeper till i hide under one of the pews where 2 rats emerge…i get up and decide I waited long enough but the 2 rats follow…
this dosnt bother me as i like rats…
the minister suddenly appears and i ask why the rats follow me….he only Hmm’s in thought but says nothing and walks away…
When outside everyone is lined up for a game of basketball…a boy wants to play me but i’m paired with someone else….He’s bigger taller and faster than I am and at first he is winning…
But the boy who wanted to play before joins me n helps me face the guy…
he calls another player in and evens the odds
i waken…..so any luck anyone?
Stewart McIntosh answers:
Oh my. Well, going to basics, I an only assume (based on my own research of dreams, so I could be wrong) that the ‘spooky ride’ was a shadow of something that happening in real life, like a bad patch in your relationship with your boyfriend or something like that. (Maybe your family dislikes him?) The creature is yourself, you must have had a deep hatred for yourself or guilt at that moment, the stumps would have been your powerlessness to prevent it (although I can’t explain why you killed with them, maybe you’re trying to get away from something you know you can’t?) and the white hair and pale skin would reflect the purity you lost by doing whatever it is you hated yourself for.
As for the European war against the creatures, it shows you were (or feel you were currently being) discriminated by someone of a different age, race or religion and it felt like you against the world (or everyone like you, against everyone else).
I can’t explain the queen (I think that relates to ego), the church and the game of hide and seek could ether mean quite obviously that you are struggling to find faith in anything any more, or you had a recent loss of trust from someone you thought would never let you down.
As for the rats, the minister and he basketball game, I have absolutely no idea.
Let me know if this has helped and if I’m right/wrong!
help me I am lost with this one!?
So I have been witting for awhile but I am worried cause I don’t know in what period of our time could this story happen any correction will help thanks!!
Sun raised this morning as any others opening its way through the clouds, hugging the green mountains under it, and as it raised life started down here birds start singing, plants wake up and welcome humbling bees that come for nectar, It had obviously started as any other normal morning, sunny and fresh, but for me this wasn’t’t a normal morning and when I wake up today noticed it: the butterflies in my stomach, and emotion in my troth.
Finally the day I had been waiting through the whole year had arrived. It’s was the most wonderful morning I had ever seen and the most wonderful day of my childhood: It was my fifteen birthday.
As every morning I pulled the huge story book from under my pillow its title said: “Fairy Tales for lovers” I opened the book in one of my favorite stories “the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet” I didn’t’t read it, because I had already read it thousands of times but as I thought of my life I slide my fingers through the book pages. My life wasn’t’t a fairy tale and sometimes I just wanted it to be such, with a charming prince, fairies, mermaids, magicians, elves and even dwarfs. But my life was the just not magic fairy tale stuff in the world. I was like every other teenager, even though I live in a little blue prairie house with my five brothers and my two sisters in company of parents and grandparents from my mother’s side. The children of the surrounding towns laughed at us a lot for being such a big family, for this I had only 3 friends here, my 3 best friends and they were Anica, Justin and Claire.
Anica is a 14 year old English girl with white skin, brown eyes and black hair, Justin is a 16 year old Latin American boy, tall with gold hair and brown lights on it, his eyes are, deep blue and he is the cutest guy I have ever met, Claire is my youngest cousin and she is 13 she has light brown hair, amber eyes and she is from Switzerland. And now let’s talk about me like my friends described me. I´m a 15 year old girl from L.A I have green eyes with long eye lashes, dark black curly hair, and my name is Dana.
Since my mother couldn’t’t find a job in the United States we came to Mexico and we are now living in Tijuana just past the frontier from L.A. to Mexico.
We live in a two storage house, my bedroom is in the second floor just passed the bathroom in the furthest corner of the house, and it has 3 small beds, a wooden bookshelf, and a really small wardrobe, the walls are painted in light pink in my sisters side of the room, and in mine it’s a whole mess up of different colors, first it was orange, then purple, after that blue, and now it has stripes.
I putted on a beautiful purple dress and a pair of high heels, and trapped my hair in a French plait.
My thoughts were interrupted when Janice entered the room “Hurry Dana they are all waiting for you down there” as she offered me her hand, and I took it smiling and said “I’ll throw you inside the cake Jan…” but before I could catch her she was already running downstairs laughing and I heard her scream as I came near the first floor “There she comes mom.”
When I entered the stretch, but welcoming dining room, I wasn’t surprise to feel the hands of Jerry my oldest brother fall in my eyes and he continued to guide me inside then I heard “Happy birthday Dana!” I felt my cheeks turn reddish when Jerry took his hands from my eyes and kissed me in the chick saying “Hey I was the first with the birthday kiss” The birthday kiss was a tradition of my family the first person to kiss the birthday one would get a double ration of cake. At the moment Jerry went away from my side all my family was kissing me, It was till then that I noticed my best friends standing in the dining room corner smiling at me, after everyone kissed me, I went towards Anica, Justin and Claire that hugged me and smiled at me radiantly “Oh its awesome you are here” I said astonished “Hey we bought you something ” said Justin handing me a small package “Oh you should have” I said turning even more red “Thanks” I said as I opened the package inside there were 4 tickets for the dance at the primary school we all assisted. It was tomorrows night “Oh… I have no dress” I said sadly just trying to make up something so that I didn’t have to go to the dance.
“You will come to my house because there is my birthday present” said Anica as she took my hand and as she pulled me out of the dining room I was hoping the earth swallowed me and never returned me back.
We walked through the morning sunlight 20 minutes till we got to Anica´s house, there Justin told us that he will pick us at 6:30 Pm to take us back to my house and left towards his house. Anica´s house was really big, its walls where white, and it had a big chimney.
Stewart McIntosh answers:
I think you should just let the readers figure it out for themselves. It gives them an opportunity to imagine more, but if you really wanted to give it a certain date, I’d make it in the 2000s, or if you wanted to make it older like say 1800s, take out teenager and the time part. But, I honestly think you need to leave the date part out. Hope I helped! =)
first and a bit of the second chapter!!!!!! read and tell me striaght up what you think!!!!?
“…I am fucking done with your excuses, Corrine.” My mom screamed at me as she slammed my bedroom door and raged down stairs.
Never have I heard my mom use the “F” word with me. It’s just so powerful when a parent uses it. Us, teenagers use it as a verb, noun, adjective and adverb daily in our lives. At least I know I do.
I remember that night so well. I rarely end up remember anything, mostly because I am always trashed or high. One of the two.
I am sure if my real dad was present that night, he would have defended me. He’s an award winning pot head. Living his own life up in Washington. He left my mom because I was born. I was an “accident”. Ever since he left, my mom took it easy on me. She spoiled me and I took advantage of her kindness and threw our life in a blender. Sometimes I think this world would have a been a better place if I wasn’t born. I actually give credit to my dad who didn’t want me as a child….
For the very first time, in 17 years, my mom was acting like a “mother”. Christine, my mom, threatened me with words whenever I got myself into trouble. She would then give me the “Don’t-do-it-again” glare, followed by, “Go to your room.” That, I do not understand. How is “Going-to-my-room” a decent punishment. Well I took that for granted, because now she is beyond sending me to my “room”. She is sending me to New Jersey. I much, much more prefer my room.
The San Francisco Airport could easily qualify for a zoo. There are all kinds of people here. People who run like crazy, eager to get on their specific flight, and then there are people who wait in line, moving at one centimeter per minute. I look around me as I follow my mom to the Wendy’s line. I only had 45 minutes left in heaven, California.
My mom leaned against the counter, squinting her eyes, getting a better look at the menu above the cashiers head. It’s so amusing when they serve you your meal, and it doesn’t look anything like the pictures posted on the menu. Photoshop is taking over this world, I swear.
“I’ll have a salad and a cup of water, please.” My mom ordered. She faced me. “What would you like, Corrine?”
“A time machine.” I muttered under my breath. She ordered me a salad also. Was I speaking French? No, I wasn’t. I wanted a god damn time machine.
We sat down. I poured the ranch dressing over my salad, took a bite.
“Corrine, I hope you’re not disappointed.” My mom said, taking a sip of her water. There was an awkward silence.
“Don’t worry, I am no where near “disappointed”.
“Well that’s good to hear.”
“I don’t think you would want to know how I am feeling.”
“Look…Corrine. Sometimes it’s necessary to make certain choices.”
“I just don’t see how sending me to Jersey is going to change me, that’s all. Might as well send me to Mars, if you please.”
“Corrine, you need to grow up.”
“I have been growing up in front of very eyes, mom. You just never have the time to see it.” I get up, throw away my empty container of my salad and start walking towards the Hell Gate (Gate 43). My mom follows.
My mom breaks down as soon as we reach the Gate. I cannot handle it when people cry in front of me, especially my mother. She deserves much, much more than me. I’m just a tool, used to mess up our life.
I bite my lip and hug my mom. I adore the smell of her perfume, I adore everything about her. Her attitude, her humor, her cooking style, and most importantly her pure heart, that never stops loving me, no matter how many times I hurt her, emotionally.
“Say hi to aunt Jess, and be safe…” She says, as her tears soak my right shoulder.
“I’ll be okay.” I can’t recall the amount of times where I have told her that I would be okay, and I ended up being so “not” okay.
I let go of my mom and start to walk into the tunnel. I turn around, I take one last glimpse of my mom. We have the same dark brown hair, same tan skin, same straight teeth, same light brown eyes. I have my dad’s nose, that is it. Most of my features I got from my mom.
Sometimes I wish I was just as “good”. Just as “nice” and just as “forgiving”.
I ask the flight attendant lady where my seat is located. She smiles and points to the right. “Right over there, Miss.” I make my way toward my seat. I hate how people stare at me as I pass them. I am not an endangered species, nor a celebrity. What is so interesting about me, anyway? Just a normal teen, making her way to her seat. Damn owls.
My seat is located by the window. I am fully satisfied with that.
I set my bag in front of my seat. I get cozy, and I stare out through the window.
One last look at “trouble-for-me-ah”.
Stewart McIntosh answers:
Eh…i don’t know…maybe…you can. Tone it down some?
How can I best make myself look like an abused woman in order to get into the only homeless shelter in town?
My wife regularly berates, emasculates, and abuses me- mentally, verbally, and even physically, because I don’t hit women, even when they’re throwing plaster coffee mugs at my head, (filled with scalding hot french roast, btw). She’s destroyed my personal property, sabotaged my career and estranged me from friends and family. Now I’m homeless and living in a new area, but the only homeless shelter in town caters to women only. I even explained my position and my situation to them.
My idea is to shave myself all down and dress as a woman. I can say I don’t have any I.D yet- hubby burned them all before I ran off. I just have to make myself look properly abused, the bite marks on my arms from my wife probably won’t look very masculine to these people- I’m thinking I need a black eye and a fat lip, then I can just muss up my wig and I should be good to go with a bed and a bowl of soup for a few nights.
I need Ideas though, I haven’t gone drag since I was a teenager and back then it was easy because in real life I was a long haired rocker.
Any help would be much appreciated.
Stewart McIntosh answers:
Every city has homeless shelters, but show up early the line could be long considering the economy and the weather. This way you can still wear drag. I don’t think you know the trouble you would be in if you violated one of the battered women’s shelter. I know I worked in one. These women go to great lengths to be safe. They would see right through your ruse.
I think my wife made a bad impression at this church we attended the other night; how do I handle this?
I mean, we thought it would be good to get back into church, so went last night to Bible study, and afterward got invited to a restaurant with several church members, including the pastor and his wife. I’m thinkin’, “man, I sure could go for some KFC”, so agreed to go along, but we ended up going to some snooty place with some French sounding name, *Chez Merde*, or something like that. I was suspicious, but didn’t say anything.
Well, it starts off, everyone orders salad, and when they ask what dressing I’d like, I say, “Well, doesn’t tater salad come just one way?” I then discover that this place doesn’t have no taters in their salad. I’m starting to feel nervous, like I might need to fight my way out of this joint. Anyway, the waiter then asks what I want to drink, and I say I sure as hell could go for a Bud. Well, everyone looks stricken, like I just asked to see his wife’s cooter, or something, and the waiter says they only have imported beer. What the hell was going on?! American beer is all you’ll find in our trailer, and that’s all I’ll drink. I notice everyone else at the table just ordered tea or coffee.
So, after that things go more or less okay, and I’m real polite, letting the church people know how fcuking glad I am to finally find a church home, how I miss church ever since I got out of prison; it was real easy to hear the gospel while I was doin’ time, since the ministers came to you. My wife, she was speaking up how she was real proud of me, that I was a lot less perverted than I used to be, that I hardly ever bought a Hustler anymore, but stuck to Playboy, and that you’d always find a Bible next to my stack of them on the coffee table. I thought it went really nice, after that rocky start.
So, we’re leaving, and chatting in the parking lot, and the pastor says he’s not really a NASCAR fan. I was just struck silent. I began to wonder if this was even a Christian church, and not one of them fruity New Age deals. I wasn’t reassured when he said he didn’t watch football, but was a big soccer fan. WTF???!!! Come to think of it, I’m not even really sure if he was a man, since he didn’t have a goatee or any visible tats, and when I gave him a friendly punch on the arm, he winced and I swear-ta-gawd tears came to his eyes. Still, I thought, “I can overlook these things; it ain’t their fault that they weren’t raised right.”
My wife, though, must’ve made a real bad impression on them, because when we was sayin’ how much we enjoyed the church and socializin’, the pastor and the church members standin’ around look at each other real nervous like, and say that this actually was the farewell service, that they wasn’t churchin’ no more. When I pointed out that they announced at the bible study what the topic for Sunday’s sermon would be, they said that a lyin’ spirit must’ve passed through, ’cause there weren’t no service after this Bible study. I know they was lyin’, but I want to know why.
All I can figure is that when my wife said I was only pervin’ over Playboys and Hustlers, it offended them. This may be a church that only likes Penthouse, like the one I went to when I was a teenager. What do you think? Should I have my wife go back and apologize and run out and get some Penthouse mags to show I’m in one accord with them, or what?
Stewart McIntosh answers:
LOL, clearly it’s one of them fruity New Age deals.
Jack you are a master of the form.
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