Hung out with Lisa, Monica, and Gary last night, as a going-away dinner (sort of—only Gary really ate dinner) for Monica. I had a really good time; I always do when I’m with them, we just rarely ever see each other. So we chilled at Red Lobster and then went to walk around Walmart and had a lot of fun.
The rest of this is mostly going to be old stuff because I’ve been slacking on the updates.
First of all, I wanted to make note of something that Brother said the other day, because it was just…well, you’ll see.
He had a couple of friends over, and they were all doing that trick where you flick the card off your finger without moving the coin, and I finally said, “Okay, let me try it.” I figured there was no way I was going to get it, and I was right, I didn’t, but what was cool was when Brother said, “Yeah, let Ginny try it; Ginny can do anything.”
Now contrast that with what Psychobrat used to tell me every single day behind closed doors: that I was worthless, stupid, ugly, boring, that she couldn’t believe I had any friends at all, that the friends I had talked about me behind my back, that it made perfect sense to her why I had never had a boyfriend, and that I never would, and she didn’t understand my purpose in being.
“Ginny can do anything.” No wonder Brother and I get along so much better.
I had a yet another dream about Milo. I had gone to work as a journalist in this building that very much resembled a grocery store—one that I had seen in my dreams before. There were even people walking in and out of it, like a woman holding a little girl by the hands. People coming out with shopping carts. But I don’t think it really looked like a grocery store inside; and besides that, everything was really dark, like the whole dream took place in the middle of the night.
Anyway, so I arrive to work at this place, as a replacement for Milo, it turns out. (Not sure if I knew him in the dream or not.) Milo was, tragically, dead, but probably by suicide. Anyway, nobody was investigating it, which surprised me, because I thought it was all really mysterious, and I was convinced he had been murdered. I decided to hunt down his murderer. Everybody thought I was crazy, because he’d died the year before, it was all over, it had been handled. But I didn’t care.
So then I get a note. A clue, it seems, actually, left on my desk. It’s to me specifically, and it’s a clue to find out just what happened to Milo. (Don’t ask, I have no idea what it said.) And I follow it, of course, and then I’m just finding more of these all over…and then it turns out that the clues have all been left by Milo–like, ahead of time, I guess. Creepy.
Well in the end, I follow the clues all the way to another country (maybe several, but I definitely end up on the other side of an ocean), where I find…Milo. Alive. Turned out he’d set up the whole thing to find me—or, have me find him, rather.
It made so much more sense while I was sleeping, because then I had far more details.