Childhood Dreamin'

While I was in the tent, I had a dream. About my childhood. I guess when your life is flashing before your eyes, you think about things like this.

It was a fairly ordinary Saturday morning. My Dad was serenading my Aunt Margaret while she was writing her latest novel.

I'd walked right past them and hopped on my bicycle. They had no idea where I was going. It was always like this, I think.

I went to my favorite fishing hole -- no, not at the park like most folks, but I liked to go to the cemetery pond, with the statue of the Grim Reaper and the adjacent catacombs overlooking everything. Most of the time I was by myself. I liked it that way, because I would be undisturbed.

When I came home after dark, I ran up to daddy, who was waiting to scoop me up in his arms. "Daddy, daddy, guess what? I caught my biggest fish ever!" It was a 0.3 kilogram goldfish that I later put in a jar in my room.

"That's great, princess!" He knew that I'd liked to go off exploring the town, and even though mom didn't like it for the most part, he let me do it.

Just before bed I went into my Aunt Margaret's room and pulled a book from the shelf. She had all kinds of books -- mysteries, dramas, romances, adventure novels. I had long ago outgrown the children's books mom, dad, and Aunt Margaret read to me as a toddler, and had even outgrown the kiddie books they had at the library and at school, so when I was able to read on my own (my dad says it was while I was still a toddler, before I actually became a child) I chose to read the grown-up books. I was hooked on Sims' Treasure Island and Simmiver's Travels. Simmiver's Travels were my favorite, though. I would read that one in bed, too.