dream sequence:

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There was a knock at the door. I opened it and she was standing on the other side, tall and thin and smiling under her long wild pile of frizz and curls. She held out a yellow bottle of mustard and, giggling, said “I just thought I’d better return this”. I leaped right out of the house, laughing wildly, and hugged her with such hunger. We swung back and forth, laughing and hugging. We fell over in our joy and hugged and giggled on the floor of the wooden porch. We laughed and held on to each other so tightly. So much love. I was deep in happiness in spite of knowing in the dream that she was dead and none of this was real. I didn’t care. I kept laughing and hugging her. Just one more minute. Just one more minute. I didn’t care that this moment was imaginary, I needed it. One more minute. We were both wearing a dark pink lipstick. I looked at our feet and we were both wearing dark pink high heels to match. I laughed even harder at the sight of this and hugged her tighter, tighter, tighter. My aunt stepped into the doorway from inside the dark of the house and with a straight-laced seriousness said, “Angela, no. You need to stop right now. That is not your mother, that is a demon”. My head tilted back and my arms went slack with annoyance. Her words and my despair pulled me from my dream. My mother’s body went limp below my embrace and I was so fucking pissed that my moment of joy was stolen from me. I knew none of it was real and yet here she came with her religious nonsense. That malicious conspiracy of hoogabooga bullshit.




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