Dream of: 16December 2006 "Vehement Feelings"
My brother Chris (about 10 years old, afflicted with muscular dystrophy) and I were in a house which somewhat resembled the House in Patriot. It was Sunday. Chris was happy because my father's aunt Dorothy (the sister of my father's father, Cole) was supposed to visit him there today. I realized how just a little thing like someone coming to see him made Chris happy. He was alone most of the time and this was a happy event for him.
As we were waiting, my father (about 40 years old) walked into the room. He was tall and slender. He wanted to talk with me, but I just glared at him. I walked over to him and told him I knew what he had done. I was referring to the fact that he was logging the Gallia County Farm, and that he was letting my step-mother's sons manage the logging. I immediately told him I didn't want to ever have anything else to do with him. He stood there, appearing a little in shock, but at the same time he seemed to have expected I would react this way. He seemed to want to talk with me and reconcile, but I told him there was no way. I told him we were finished. I meant what I said. I knew this was the final break between him and me. We would never reconcile again.
Other relatives had begun entering the house. As they arrived, I somewhat vehemently told some of them what my father had done. No one else, however, seemed particularly concerned.
I had the vague impression that my mother's brothers Ronald and Liston were in the room. They weren't concerned -- they already seemed to know what my father was like.
Finally, my mother (about 50 years old) walked in. She seemed a bit upset by what I was saying. I told her that my father had done the same thing to her, that he had taken her property, and that she no longer knew what she had.
My father had already walked out of the room. Only my mother and I were left in the room. I picked up a brick-trowel (the kind with the round tip) with a little mortar on it, and I threw the trowel down on the hardwood floor. The tip of the trowel sunk into the floor a couple centimeters so the trowel was standing straight up. The mortar which had been on the trowel had fallen off onto the floor. I had thrown down the trowel to emphasize the vehemence of my feelings.
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