To Be Continued

September 2, 1997

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When you stare at a familiar face long enough it transforms into a stranger leaving you to wonder how well you really know this person. September is here again and the memories of Julie are worse than usual as death makes his presence known all over again as if my memory had forsaken me. Princess Diana died in a car accident about two nights ago which put the entire world in a state of shock. It just comes so quickly sometimes and no matter who you are, life is just suddenly stolen in a second’s time. Some photographer had taken pictures of the four passengers inside the mangled car after the wreck and chances are they will be sold to some tabloid magazine for at least a million dollars. When River Phoenix died a photograph was taken of him in the funeral home. Some guy snuck in late at night, opened up the casket, placed a smile on River’s lips and sold the picture for $25,000. I remember seeing it on the cover of National Enquirer with the words “This is what drugs will do” printed underneath it. I ripped the magazine up when I saw it at the store, man I just lost it.

A couple of nights ago I had this dream that was so real in detail yet so awkward in presence. It was a normal day at my house and as I was leaving the confines of my room I heard mom and Kirk talking down the hall and there was this weird clicking sound that caught my attention. I went over to see what it was and there was Kirk sitting on the floor loading a gun with mom just standing there nonchalantly talking about the weather for all I know. I asked Kirk what he was doing and he tells me that there’s this huge black guy shooting off an automatic outside. I go to look out the window and this huge black guy turns out to be a little boy, he still has the automatic but he’s like only nine years old. We all three go outside and proceed to stand on the sidewalk just watching him shoot it off. He goes over to my neighbor’s house (who is a preacher), rings the doorbell, and when Dr. Fritz opens the door, this kid shoots him in the head. The dream takes on a different form from there. I find it extremely odd that I would dream about Dr. Fritz for I never talk to him and it’s not like I was thinking about him that day. Three days later mom calls me in Bay City and tells me that Kirk had wrecked her new car last night and he basically had a nervous breakdown. Mom went over to Dr. Fritz’s house with Kirk at four in the morning to pray for him and all that jazz. Next thing you know, Kirk is down on his knees crying and praying and proclaims that tomorrow morning he is going to church to be baptized by Dr. Fritz, and he did. I know the dream I had is connected to this occurrence in some way, but I have yet to grasp the meaning. I’m in an extremely depressed mood and the reason why scares even me. On the way back from Bay City I realized that I had forgotten my pillow and from then on my mood went from disappointed to suicidal. My pillow is like a security blanket to me but being that I’m twenty years old I should be able to handle sleeping three nights without it! Twenty years old and I feel like I’m thirteen. I’ve never had a job, my career is undecided, and I’m starting to doubt my ability to pass all my courses this term in school. I’ve never had a real boyfriend and friends just don’t seem to exist anymore. So, I’m at the end of yet another journal and plans to start a new one are somewhat inspiring. I have this idea to get my journals published and put them on the market one by one kinda like a series of the Hardy Boys (bad example). My life would literally be an open book, and personally I relish the idea.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist