Dream of: 23 November 1998 "Fairy God Mother"

A black-haired girl and I were sitting at one of the long tables in the cafeteria of the high school which we were attending. She and I were close and had been seeing quite a bit of each other. All around us were other students, likewise sitting at tables in the packed cafeteria. Several healthy athletic–looking fellows were sitting right behind us. The fellows looked older than high school students, as if they might be in their 20s.

A problem soon developed with these fellows. My girlfriend kept pushing her seat so far back that she ended up bumping into the chairs of the fellows, especially one husky black fellow. Finally the black fellow and one of his companions became so irritated, they began pushing their seats toward my girlfriend until they were finally crushing her. I stood up and began talking to the two fellows in a soothing voice and I even put my hand on the shoulder of the black fellow. I had known the black for quite a while and even felt somewhat friendly with him. Finally I was able to persuade the two fellows to back off. Once the black fellow's feelings were assuaged, I didn't think he would bother my girlfriend anymore.

Since I had something else to do, I walked off and headed out toward the hall. I had only been in this school for about a year, while most of the other students had gone to school together for a long time. Actually the students had come from two different junior high schools. At least all the others had known the students in their respective junior high schools for years. I hadn't known anyone when I had started here. However, during the past year I had made friends and now felt comfortable. I figured it took about a year to make friends in a place like this.

I was also thinking about the kind of work I was going to be doing for the rest of my life. It had suddenly occurred to me I might like to be a film editor. I had originally thought I would like to write books. But now the idea of editing films fascinated me. For some reason, Somerset Maugham's novel The Razor's Edge came to mind. I could visualize parts of the film version of the book, and I imagined how interesting it would be to work on editing the film. I was also struck by how similar the theme of the book seemed to be to my own life. It seemed that the main protagonist of the book, like I, had suffered some in life, but that overall his life had been quite beautiful.

I also thought about my old friend, Weinstein. He would probably be impressed to know I was editing films. Of course being a film editor wasn't as prestigious as being an author, but I hadn't completely given up the idea of being an author. I thought I could learn a lot from editing that I would be able to incorporate into writing. Both editing and writing seemed to require similar skills and should complement each other.

As I had continued walking, I entered a room which appeared to be a second-hand store. Shelves containing odds and ends were arranged all around the room. A pretty blonde woman was examining a toy truck, apparently trying to determine if all the working pieces were there. She looked like someone who commonly came to this kind of place to look for toys which were still in good shape. I liked doing that kind of thing myself when I had the time.

I did see something which caught my interest – a pile of children's' books. The one on top looked like a coloring book based on the movie The Wizard of Oz, with a picture of the Tin Man on the cover. When I picked it up I saw yet another book which looked like a fill-in-the-number picture book based on Cinderella. I also picked it up. The back of the book felt rough as if the back cover had been torn off. But the pictures inside looked intricate and fascinating. I was glad I had spent time learning about works of fantasy like The Wizard of Oz and Cinderella. I tried to visualize some of the scenes from the animated Cinderella movie, still thinking about working on films as an editor. It was fascinating to think of all the possibilities and equally as fascinating just to see the visions in my mind.

Suddenly, a nun dressed in an all white habit, stepped up next to me and snatched the Cinderella book out of my hands. She looked frankly similar to the Fairy Godmother in the movie Cinderella. But she wasn't smiling and she was unfriendly. I was uncertain why she wanted the paint-by-number book and I really didn't want to give it to her. But I didn't protest and realized someone like a nun had special rights to just take things like that from people. I didn't begrudge her and I even felt a bit glad to let her have the book.

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