Dream of: 21 May 1982 "Impertinent Boy"

I was with my mother and my sister in the House in Patriot. I was having a good time in the living room, playing with a little black bear  about half a meter long. I would slap the cub playfully on both sides of its face, and it would try to bite my hands. I knocked it over and wrestled around with it with my hands.

When I asked my sister if she knew who owned the cub, she said it belonged to someone living nearby. I thought it curious that the owners would simply let the cub roam around on its own all day. My sister told me the owners simply didn't care.

I asked my sister to call the owners by phone. She got them on the phone and they said they were busy at the moment either canning peaches or making peach pies and didn't have time to worry about the cub. My sister hung up.

Someone knocked at the door; I thought perhaps the knockers were the owners of the cub. I walked to the door and looked out, but couldn't see anyone. Then I noticed someone walking along the side of the house about five meters from the door. He was a boy (about 16 years old) who resembled my uncle George, even though I knew George had died about three years earlier.

Since I wasn't wearing any pants, I picked up a pair of blue jeans and began putting them on. Before I had them completely pulled up, my mother opened the door and revealed the boy (the same boy I had seen who resembled my uncle George) standing there in the doorway. I finished buttoning my pants and walked toward him. He was wearing a blue shirt with blue stripes and snap buttons. It was almost exactly like the shirt I was wearing. He, like I, was also wearing blue jeans.

After the boy walked into the room, I asked him what he wanted. He seemed confused and suddenly blurted out, "Can you give me some money?"

I was incensed at his impertinence. He pointed through the door at the Swiver's house across the street and said the Swivers had promised him and his family a meal.

I looked outside and saw parked in the road a car which apparently contained his family. Yet I still didn't understand who he was or why he was there. I walked up to him, put my right hand on his left shoulder and said, "Boy, who are you?"

I looked outside again; a sheriff's car had pulled up to the car with the boy's family and was escorting the car, with lights flashing, around the corner.

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