I was at the Gay Street House with a tall, slender man (not more than 40 years old) who was my father. He seemed as if he might be a lawyer and he had his offices in some rooms of the first floor of the house.
We had been having a serious disagreement about something and he finally suggested that he disinherit me. He said it was a simple procedure and could be done orally. I did not really want to do it and I was rather shook up by the idea. However, I realized it was more a formality than anything else and that he could accomplish the same end by simply writing me out of his will. Finally, with reluctance I agreed.
We walked into the living room beside the kitchen wheremy mother joined us. I proceeded to simply say that I disinherited my father and he said the same thing. He was very matter-of-fact about the whole procedure and showed no emotion that I could detect. He walked back into his offices and I left.
Actually, after it was all over I felt relieved. I did not know why I had been in Portsmouth in the first place and now I felt that I must leave. I contemplated where I would go and I thought that Latin America would be appropriate. I began thinking of Brazil and the gigantic potential it offered. I figured I could find employment in a law office in Rio de Janeiro.
Since I spoke Spanish, it would be easier to go to some other country in South America. But I thought Portuguese would not be difficult to learn. I had listened to it before and I knew it was similar to Spanish. Also my knowledge of French should aid me in quickly learning the language. I figured in about four months I would know the language well enough to work well with it.
My principal concern was taking my car (my silver '84 Volkswagen Rabbit) with me. I wondered whether I should ship it by boat or drive it through South America. Perhaps I should not even take it. It definitely presented a problem.
I returned to my father's to pick up a last few things. My mother was there and helped me. She had laid out about ten sweaters on the kitchen table for me. My heavy, cream-colored, wool sweater was among them. Another older, cream-colored sweater which I had not seen in quite a while was also included. I gathered the sweaters up.
I also noticed lying on the table my small, rectangular clock. I wanted it because I liked to use it to time myself when doing exercises.
My mother carried out a small, flimsy book case which was apparently mine. I told her I simply did not have room for that in my car.
I was unsure I had my keys. I touched my right pants pocket, felt the silver balls that were on the key chain I was carrying, and knew I had it. I noticed my father had walked into the living room with a client and I tried to hasten my departure. My mother was being as helpful as she could. She obviously did not want to see me leave, but she seemed to understand.
Dream Epics Home Page
Copyright 2021 by firstname.lastname@example.org