In the past two nights I have had dreams involving my son's principal - Mr. Santin. (The kids often refer to him as Mr. Satan, but he is a good guy, just firm.) I'm having a hard time figuring the dreams out... so I thought I'd put them out there and see if writing helps, or if perhaps any of you have any insight.
Yesterday's dream was of me picking up around the living room in my night shirt while Mr. Santin was working on my yard. My son was with me in the living room and when I noticed Mr. Santin outside I said to my son, "Mr. Santin is outside. Should I go talk to him? Do you think I'll be OK in just this shirt?" He didn't answer but I went ahead and walked to the sliding glass door and opened it. (The house we were in was like one that I lived in when I was a teenager mixed with my great Granny's house.) I stood in the door way and Mr. Santin came over to me. He pointed at a puddle on the cement block outside the door. "You've got some flooding," he said. I looked down and just past the cement stoop was a river that flowed through my back yard. It was not a shock to me. I actually was very happy to see the river because it was clear as crystal. In my memory I saw the river as murky and yellowy-brown, but just then it was beautiful. I could see all the way to the floor of the river; there were stones and plants lining the different levels of the river's floor. I just stood there and marveled at it, and that was the end of the dream.
In last night's dream I was going to school. I walked through a neighborhood that I have been in before in my dream world, but not in real life. (It most resembles the town of Williamston NC where I lived when I was 8, but it also has a Boston vibe.) Anyway, once I got to school I lined up with the rest of the kids on a black top next to a field. Mr. Santin and a lady teacher came out to take us to class. I started walking with the other kids but then Mr. Santin stopped me with a mean look and asked, "where are you going?" I pointed forward and he said, "Don't you know the rules? It's your turn to pick up trash." I explained how I had always been dropped off on the other side of school where the cars go until today, and it was my first time in the line. The rest of the class and Mr. Santin walked away and left me out on the field to pick up trash. I knew that I was only responsible for my class's trash which was right around where we had been standing (homework wadded up, food wrappers and scraps of food), but I went ahead and took all the time I wanted picking up all the trash around the black top and the field. When I finally wanted to stop I walked to the teacher's lounge where I knew I was supposed to get a rolling stand and some art supplies. The stand was taller than me, like the ones that TVs used to sit on top of so that the whole class could see. (When I was in elementary school the TV was on a rolling stand like that and it went from class to class because there was only one TV for everyone to share.) As I was getting the stand already loaded with the supplies I needed, I looked in a storage closet and found all kinds of 'Ramona and Beezus' tapes and books. (I never read those when I was little, but in my dream I was very excited to find them, like they had been my favorite.) They were pink and there were so many that when I stacked them on the rolling stand they kept falling off. The dream ended with me picking up the falling books over and over.
So... a meaning...
Let's break it down.
In both dreams I'm "picking up". #1 in my own living room, #2 on a school campus. Both dreams have Mr. Santin pointing out a problem to me: #1 the flooding, #2 my turn to pick up trash.
Dream #1's other things that could be symbolic: (I'll put *'s by things that seemed important)
**Me in my night shirt, and well aware of my lower half being exposed.
**Mr. Santin (as my son's principle)
*flooding
***river ... murky and then clear
*back yard: not something that everyone sees... personal.
Dream #2's other things that could be symbolic:
childhood neighborhood
*school (elementary at that)
*being new to the line (new to the rules)
**trash (school kid trash)
***taking my time... and doing more than I was supposed to... to stall.
*rolling stand/cart (again from elementary school memories)
storage closet (another thing that not everyone sees)
***tapes and books from childhood (good childhood memories, though not accurate), that I was excited to share.
overflow (unable to keep everything on the cart)
Both dreams had a climax. #1 seeing the clear river. #2 wanting to share the books and tapes.
The climax over-rode everything in the dream up until that point, and both dreams ended on the high note.
In dream #1 I had been living with a murky river in my back yard for who knows how long, but somehow going out 'exposed' to see my son's principle allowed the water to be clear. The problem of flooding was a non issue.
(I sure hope this doesn't have to do with the house I just turned down near my son's possible new school because it had some flooding issues and a bad pool.)(Maybe it's about his grades, or some principle about my son that will make things clear.)
Dream #2 seems to focus on me taking my time, even doing things I'm not supposed to be doing, and how ultimately it led to finding a treasure that I could share. (I'd like to think thats a good sign for the procrastination I've been having all week, but I'm pretty sure that's just wishful thinking.)(Perhaps it's about dealing with my son's school {new or old} looking at the 'trash', and at the tresures involved.)
Anybody have any ideas?
Showing posts with label art supplies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label art supplies. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
"A Swell Space" and "He's Driving Again"
Two dreams last night.
One was with my Swell Sisters (my art society). We were in a very cool house with very large and open rooms; completely furnished in a nice way, with nothing lacking.
We were working on an art project that involved beads and old jewelry. One sister (Alyson) was looking for all the pearls, because her piece was going to be made of pearls. (I had just been thinking of pearls at my mom's house this weekend because of her strand hanging near the mirror.) (Pearls, as you know are symbolic of long suffering, and are also not to be shared with "pigs". :-))
We all handed Alyson our pearls... some small some normal "pearl size". We worked on our projects and I looked around the room taking in all the features.
Then Michael Gorman showed up to tell us our time was over and we had to clean up. (Michael is another local artist who hosts life drawing sessions that some of us have been to.) In the dream he was leasing the space to us. It was his place. It wasn't bad that we were having to clean up or anything, and he was a very gracious land lord. We mentioned being back soon, and that was the end of the dream.
The next dream began with my son driving again. (Perhaps I'm thinking of this because of how he doesn't like my daughter's driving now that she is old enough.)(Or it's just another dream about him running the show.) He was driving with my dad and I in the car and we were heading for his class. The class was hard to find and we had to go up a side of a mountain and then back down again through an Italian looking village. He was taking the corners too fast and I was trying to get him to slow down. Some how my dad was the one in charge of our directions and the fact that we were running late. We finally parked on the side of a steep road aiming down on a curve. We got out and climbed down the hill about 100 feet to a small building that was tucked in the side of the mountain. I opened the door to let my son in. The class was full of kids and I noticed on the clock that we were 23 minutes late. I apologized to his teacher (played by his real teacher), and my dad and I went to wait outside at a cafe table in front of the room. There were two old Italian men sitting at the table next to us and they had small wooden dolls with them.
The dolls were more like Lego or Play Mobile people than what you may think of as a wooden doll. They had a flesh toned block of wood for the body that was carved to resemble a flattened over weight bowling pin about the size of your palm. There were hair pieces and other things that you could attach to the bodies. One could have blonde braids, and another a brunette bubble-flip. Then there were little hats that fit in a divot on the back of the hair. I dressed one to look like a candy striper nurse lady, and another more like a pilgrim. Then one of the old men held a man doll that he put some crazy wooden hair on and lit on fire. The doll did not burn up, instead the flames became part of his paint job and kept flickering. Even the doll's face (which on all the others was blank) started moving and turning evil.
I grabbed my dad and said, "let's get out of here". Then I woke up.
One was with my Swell Sisters (my art society). We were in a very cool house with very large and open rooms; completely furnished in a nice way, with nothing lacking.
We were working on an art project that involved beads and old jewelry. One sister (Alyson) was looking for all the pearls, because her piece was going to be made of pearls. (I had just been thinking of pearls at my mom's house this weekend because of her strand hanging near the mirror.) (Pearls, as you know are symbolic of long suffering, and are also not to be shared with "pigs". :-))
We all handed Alyson our pearls... some small some normal "pearl size". We worked on our projects and I looked around the room taking in all the features.
Then Michael Gorman showed up to tell us our time was over and we had to clean up. (Michael is another local artist who hosts life drawing sessions that some of us have been to.) In the dream he was leasing the space to us. It was his place. It wasn't bad that we were having to clean up or anything, and he was a very gracious land lord. We mentioned being back soon, and that was the end of the dream.
The next dream began with my son driving again. (Perhaps I'm thinking of this because of how he doesn't like my daughter's driving now that she is old enough.)(Or it's just another dream about him running the show.) He was driving with my dad and I in the car and we were heading for his class. The class was hard to find and we had to go up a side of a mountain and then back down again through an Italian looking village. He was taking the corners too fast and I was trying to get him to slow down. Some how my dad was the one in charge of our directions and the fact that we were running late. We finally parked on the side of a steep road aiming down on a curve. We got out and climbed down the hill about 100 feet to a small building that was tucked in the side of the mountain. I opened the door to let my son in. The class was full of kids and I noticed on the clock that we were 23 minutes late. I apologized to his teacher (played by his real teacher), and my dad and I went to wait outside at a cafe table in front of the room. There were two old Italian men sitting at the table next to us and they had small wooden dolls with them.
The dolls were more like Lego or Play Mobile people than what you may think of as a wooden doll. They had a flesh toned block of wood for the body that was carved to resemble a flattened over weight bowling pin about the size of your palm. There were hair pieces and other things that you could attach to the bodies. One could have blonde braids, and another a brunette bubble-flip. Then there were little hats that fit in a divot on the back of the hair. I dressed one to look like a candy striper nurse lady, and another more like a pilgrim. Then one of the old men held a man doll that he put some crazy wooden hair on and lit on fire. The doll did not burn up, instead the flames became part of his paint job and kept flickering. Even the doll's face (which on all the others was blank) started moving and turning evil.
I grabbed my dad and said, "let's get out of here". Then I woke up.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Cleaning
I had two dreams last night... both somewhat disturbing.
One involved an older lady friend of mine, and one involved one of my Swell Sister friends.
The first took place in a gymnasium that had been used for an event. It was full of people the same race as my friend and all men if I remember correctly. They were clearing out of the room and my friend and I were left to clean their mess. (This is probably because we really have been cleaning a man's house this past week who's wife died a couple years ago.) In the dream we had large push brooms and were just sweeping piles of dust and trash. One man said something to my friend and she started crying. I heard the gist of the message and began to weep for her. It was about her husband cheating on her.
The second dream took place in a large warehouse type space full of arts and crafts equipment. My friend and I were all alone in there. It was our space, but it was a shop and class area too. We were cleaning up the pottery area. There were large metal shelves full of bisque-wear. A large industrial sink, and a counter top full of glazes and already painted but not fired bowls etc. The colors were vibrant and looked very tattoo-esk. The paint was still in it's chalky faze, and there was even painting on the floor. On the far side of the room were long tables set up for classes and some book shelves. It looked like an elementary school art room. The area we were standing in looked very warehouse-y though. Both my friend and I were picking things up and putting things where they belonged. I got side tracked with the paintings and how I could still move the 'chalk' around. My friend called me over. I was in a blanket. I think she had a blanket wrapped around her as well. (This is reminiscent of a photo shoot we did last month. Some of the pictures she took of me, I was in a blanket.) At one part in the dream I was naked standing there talking, but then a group of ladies came in the front door. They thought the store was open and wanted to do a project. My friend was upset that they had made it in the door... like the door was supposed to be locked. We both had glaring looks on our faces, and then I woke up.
No time to really ponder things this morning as I am off to help the first friend clean again today.
One involved an older lady friend of mine, and one involved one of my Swell Sister friends.
The first took place in a gymnasium that had been used for an event. It was full of people the same race as my friend and all men if I remember correctly. They were clearing out of the room and my friend and I were left to clean their mess. (This is probably because we really have been cleaning a man's house this past week who's wife died a couple years ago.) In the dream we had large push brooms and were just sweeping piles of dust and trash. One man said something to my friend and she started crying. I heard the gist of the message and began to weep for her. It was about her husband cheating on her.
The second dream took place in a large warehouse type space full of arts and crafts equipment. My friend and I were all alone in there. It was our space, but it was a shop and class area too. We were cleaning up the pottery area. There were large metal shelves full of bisque-wear. A large industrial sink, and a counter top full of glazes and already painted but not fired bowls etc. The colors were vibrant and looked very tattoo-esk. The paint was still in it's chalky faze, and there was even painting on the floor. On the far side of the room were long tables set up for classes and some book shelves. It looked like an elementary school art room. The area we were standing in looked very warehouse-y though. Both my friend and I were picking things up and putting things where they belonged. I got side tracked with the paintings and how I could still move the 'chalk' around. My friend called me over. I was in a blanket. I think she had a blanket wrapped around her as well. (This is reminiscent of a photo shoot we did last month. Some of the pictures she took of me, I was in a blanket.) At one part in the dream I was naked standing there talking, but then a group of ladies came in the front door. They thought the store was open and wanted to do a project. My friend was upset that they had made it in the door... like the door was supposed to be locked. We both had glaring looks on our faces, and then I woke up.
No time to really ponder things this morning as I am off to help the first friend clean again today.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Movies, Art, Fashion, and a Machine Gun
Last night's dream started as a movie...
I was John Cusack and I was with a young Dan Aykroyd in a two-seater plane. We were laughing and talking about girls and sex.
The view changed and I was out of the movie and sitting in the theater with my husband. We got up to leave and I mentioned to him that I had forgotten to go see Laurelin's show. (A friend of mine just had her first solo art show up at a gallery, and I did forget to go "opening" night.) So I walked over with him to a gymnasium where the show was. (It was the gym from my HS.) Her art was everywhere. It was like a life time of art; hundreds of pieces. I started on the wall to my right where there was a nautical theme going on. Perfect paintings of boats and wharfs (not her "norm"). I was commenting on one when her fiance David told me there was another wing that held her crafts. (She is a knitter and crafter as well... when the mood strikes.) So I walked over to that wing and looked behind glass at dolls and jewelry and buttons and other crafty things she had made (again, not her "norm".)
Then the scene changed and I was going to visit my friend Ramin in New York. I got to his apartment and started working on patterns on his floor. I was waiting for him to get home, but in the mean time I had taken at least 8 articles of clothing and was tracing them on to dotted pattern paper. They were all ugly clothes, very matronly. The idea was that I was going to try to get a job back at the St. John's design house(where Ramin and I worked after we graduated college). He came home and asked what I was doing. He looked over the clothes and my work and told me I was doing it all wrong. He said the clothes were hideous, and that my pattern tracing skills were terrible. "Don't you remember anything from school?" he asked. He then stormed off. The scene changed again and I was in the bed of a truck with all of the pattern making equipment and my luggage. Ramin was walking away from me down the NY street. I jumped out of the truck and went to him begging him to help me. We stood by a car and talked for a brief minute and then I saw a man jump in the truck bed and start to load up my stuff. I ran back to stop him, but he had a machine gun and pointed it at my face. I still yelled at him, saying, "That's my stuff, how dare you take it!" Ramin yelled my name, "Are you crazy?" he asked. Then I grabbed the machine gun that was at my face and turned it to face the man. Ramin again said, "Are you crazy? If you shoot him you'll be the one in trouble." But I shot at his arm anyway. Nothing... just air. So I aimed the gun at the yard beside me and shot again... just air. Then I reprimanded the man in the truck, "You were going to steal my stuff with an unloaded weapon?" I was still yelling at him when the dog woke me up.
This dream has loads of guilt in it.
Things that are bothering me that I keep replaying in my head.
That I still watch ill-humored movies, that I forgot Laurelin's show, that I screwed up the pattern for my daughter's Halloween costume cause I don't remember how to make sleeves. (I haven't done them since college.) It even has a bit from the book I'm reading called "Son of Hamas" where the machine guns he bought didn't work. The chapters in the book since that moment have filled me with guilt because I relate to the Israeli side, and they have kept the writer of the book in a prison torturing him for the past few chapters. (A true story... good book.)
The truck bed I'm sure has to do with me driving my husband's truck the other day to pick up my son's bike. (I don't drive it often... it's too big.)
Ramin is always put in my dreams when there is advice about my fashion career, because he is a person I will listen to. I think he stayed in the dream for the machine gun part because he is originally from Iran... which fits the setting of my book, at least in that neck of the world.
I think that the part about Laurelin's art not being "her's", was about myself as well. I used her in the dream because she is one artist I know that has a very common theme through her work so it's easy to see when it's not coming from 'her'. Most likely this was a reminder to me to be true to myself... which was also emphasized by the horrible clothes I was tracing... They were SO not me. :)
I was John Cusack and I was with a young Dan Aykroyd in a two-seater plane. We were laughing and talking about girls and sex.
The view changed and I was out of the movie and sitting in the theater with my husband. We got up to leave and I mentioned to him that I had forgotten to go see Laurelin's show. (A friend of mine just had her first solo art show up at a gallery, and I did forget to go "opening" night.) So I walked over with him to a gymnasium where the show was. (It was the gym from my HS.) Her art was everywhere. It was like a life time of art; hundreds of pieces. I started on the wall to my right where there was a nautical theme going on. Perfect paintings of boats and wharfs (not her "norm"). I was commenting on one when her fiance David told me there was another wing that held her crafts. (She is a knitter and crafter as well... when the mood strikes.) So I walked over to that wing and looked behind glass at dolls and jewelry and buttons and other crafty things she had made (again, not her "norm".)
Then the scene changed and I was going to visit my friend Ramin in New York. I got to his apartment and started working on patterns on his floor. I was waiting for him to get home, but in the mean time I had taken at least 8 articles of clothing and was tracing them on to dotted pattern paper. They were all ugly clothes, very matronly. The idea was that I was going to try to get a job back at the St. John's design house(where Ramin and I worked after we graduated college). He came home and asked what I was doing. He looked over the clothes and my work and told me I was doing it all wrong. He said the clothes were hideous, and that my pattern tracing skills were terrible. "Don't you remember anything from school?" he asked. He then stormed off. The scene changed again and I was in the bed of a truck with all of the pattern making equipment and my luggage. Ramin was walking away from me down the NY street. I jumped out of the truck and went to him begging him to help me. We stood by a car and talked for a brief minute and then I saw a man jump in the truck bed and start to load up my stuff. I ran back to stop him, but he had a machine gun and pointed it at my face. I still yelled at him, saying, "That's my stuff, how dare you take it!" Ramin yelled my name, "Are you crazy?" he asked. Then I grabbed the machine gun that was at my face and turned it to face the man. Ramin again said, "Are you crazy? If you shoot him you'll be the one in trouble." But I shot at his arm anyway. Nothing... just air. So I aimed the gun at the yard beside me and shot again... just air. Then I reprimanded the man in the truck, "You were going to steal my stuff with an unloaded weapon?" I was still yelling at him when the dog woke me up.
This dream has loads of guilt in it.
Things that are bothering me that I keep replaying in my head.
That I still watch ill-humored movies, that I forgot Laurelin's show, that I screwed up the pattern for my daughter's Halloween costume cause I don't remember how to make sleeves. (I haven't done them since college.) It even has a bit from the book I'm reading called "Son of Hamas" where the machine guns he bought didn't work. The chapters in the book since that moment have filled me with guilt because I relate to the Israeli side, and they have kept the writer of the book in a prison torturing him for the past few chapters. (A true story... good book.)
The truck bed I'm sure has to do with me driving my husband's truck the other day to pick up my son's bike. (I don't drive it often... it's too big.)
Ramin is always put in my dreams when there is advice about my fashion career, because he is a person I will listen to. I think he stayed in the dream for the machine gun part because he is originally from Iran... which fits the setting of my book, at least in that neck of the world.
I think that the part about Laurelin's art not being "her's", was about myself as well. I used her in the dream because she is one artist I know that has a very common theme through her work so it's easy to see when it's not coming from 'her'. Most likely this was a reminder to me to be true to myself... which was also emphasized by the horrible clothes I was tracing... They were SO not me. :)
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Swiss Airport Confusion
Sorry for the gap in posts. I have been dreaming... just some have been about other friends who may not want those dreams shared.
Last night's dream, however, was just about my daughter and me.
We drove to an airport in Switzerland and went inside trying to find our way to the terminal.
The room we went into first was a salon. There were very snooty women working there and no one would help us. Finally I started walking out muttering to myself about the service. One of the ladies then said, "I will help you in a moment." I was already half way out the door, so we just kept on walking.
Once out into the foyer we saw an elevator and for some reason knew that the terminal was up a few floors, so we got in.
There was a Japanese business man in the elevator as well. We pushed a button and the glass elevator went up very quickly and then started to make a circle around a section of the foyer, also very quickly... like a kiddy-ride at a fair.
We realized this was not going to get us anywhere.
Once the elevator 'landed' we got out and went to an information desk area.
As we were waiting for our turn a voice over the loud speaker said, "Flights ____ and _____ for Denver and ______, now boarding.
I didn't know if our flight went through one of those places, so I started to panic and told my daughter to start gathering our things, that we would run over there.
As I looked down to grab our suit cases I saw that there was only one small suitcase and the rest were all art supplies. The art supplies were very unorganized and in small bags or cases. Like one bag full of paints, my tackle box of paints, a stack of sketch pads and paper, plastic grocery bags of brushes and fabric, chalks, etc. It was overwhelming. I tried to pick it all up but was having a very hard time.
I got frustrated with my daughter for not helping.
Then it was our turn at the information counter.
I went up there and the lady started speaking to me in another language. (We were in Switzerland after all.) I then asked her, in Italian, how to get to the 'train station'. Which I said incorrectly... "Dove è la stazione del traino?" But really I should have been saying "Dove è l'aeroporto". Oh well. Anyway, she then said, in English, that she didn't speak Italian. So in an Italian accent, I spoke to her in broken English. (So silly.)
When I started to think that we were going to miss our flight I looked around and noticed that there was a very fancy mall behind the foyer area. I told my daughter that if we stayed we could go shopping. She was not amused. She just wanted to leave. Then she said, "Mom, I don't need any more clothes, and neither do you." I concurred, but said, "Well, maybe we could just get one outfit for fun."
Then I woke up.
This one seems pretty straight forward in many ways.
i had a conversation with my husband last night about feeling overwhelmed and not knowing which art project to do next, which bible study, etc. So that speaks clearly about the disorganized bags etc.
My daughter has often expressed an interest in living in Switzerland. (She's been before, and loved it.) The only overseas place I've ever lived is Italy, which is why I reverted to that language. We are flying to Denver at Thanksgiving, to spend time with family friends in Manitou Springs. (So there's that reference... even as it being a non-final destination.)
I think to elevator and all the confusion is just about my lack of direction. My daughter being involved in all of it is probably just because I spent my evening with her driving her to dance classes. We talked about our passions and goals etc.
Last night's dream, however, was just about my daughter and me.
We drove to an airport in Switzerland and went inside trying to find our way to the terminal.
The room we went into first was a salon. There were very snooty women working there and no one would help us. Finally I started walking out muttering to myself about the service. One of the ladies then said, "I will help you in a moment." I was already half way out the door, so we just kept on walking.
Once out into the foyer we saw an elevator and for some reason knew that the terminal was up a few floors, so we got in.
There was a Japanese business man in the elevator as well. We pushed a button and the glass elevator went up very quickly and then started to make a circle around a section of the foyer, also very quickly... like a kiddy-ride at a fair.
We realized this was not going to get us anywhere.
Once the elevator 'landed' we got out and went to an information desk area.
As we were waiting for our turn a voice over the loud speaker said, "Flights ____ and _____ for Denver and ______, now boarding.
I didn't know if our flight went through one of those places, so I started to panic and told my daughter to start gathering our things, that we would run over there.
As I looked down to grab our suit cases I saw that there was only one small suitcase and the rest were all art supplies. The art supplies were very unorganized and in small bags or cases. Like one bag full of paints, my tackle box of paints, a stack of sketch pads and paper, plastic grocery bags of brushes and fabric, chalks, etc. It was overwhelming. I tried to pick it all up but was having a very hard time.
I got frustrated with my daughter for not helping.
Then it was our turn at the information counter.
I went up there and the lady started speaking to me in another language. (We were in Switzerland after all.) I then asked her, in Italian, how to get to the 'train station'. Which I said incorrectly... "Dove è la stazione del traino?" But really I should have been saying "Dove è l'aeroporto". Oh well. Anyway, she then said, in English, that she didn't speak Italian. So in an Italian accent, I spoke to her in broken English. (So silly.)
When I started to think that we were going to miss our flight I looked around and noticed that there was a very fancy mall behind the foyer area. I told my daughter that if we stayed we could go shopping. She was not amused. She just wanted to leave. Then she said, "Mom, I don't need any more clothes, and neither do you." I concurred, but said, "Well, maybe we could just get one outfit for fun."
Then I woke up.
This one seems pretty straight forward in many ways.
i had a conversation with my husband last night about feeling overwhelmed and not knowing which art project to do next, which bible study, etc. So that speaks clearly about the disorganized bags etc.
My daughter has often expressed an interest in living in Switzerland. (She's been before, and loved it.) The only overseas place I've ever lived is Italy, which is why I reverted to that language. We are flying to Denver at Thanksgiving, to spend time with family friends in Manitou Springs. (So there's that reference... even as it being a non-final destination.)
I think to elevator and all the confusion is just about my lack of direction. My daughter being involved in all of it is probably just because I spent my evening with her driving her to dance classes. We talked about our passions and goals etc.
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