I have to go to Utah this weekend for my youngest sister’s wedding. She is marrying some guy that she’s known for a few months. They met online. The same place she met her ex, who is also the father of her baby. Her baby is not even a year old yet. I don’t know why she is marrying this guy. I don’t think I give a shit anymore. We will leave to drive Saturday morning and should arrive by mid afternoon. The wedding is Sunday and we’ll drive home on Monday. I am secretly hoping for one hellacious snow storm that will close all roads leading to hell so I don’t have to go. The way I look at it, this is my last family obligation and I don’t have to go back. Ever.
Although, up for debate with the man is whether or not I’ll go back for my mom’s funeral. He says yes. I say doubtful.
In other news, since my parents showed up here a couple weeks ago, and the pending date of nuptials and the dread that comes whenever I have to spend any amount of time with them, I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks. The other night, I had a wicked dream that woke me right the hell up. My step dad was going to kill me. I’m not sure why. My youngest brothers were in the dream, as was the new puppy a/k/a the domestic terrorist (who is currently running through the house at Mach III, bringing every dog toy we own and dropping them at my feet. Personally, I think she is retarded).
Anyway, my step dad is behind me, chasing me down a street. I know he wants to kill me. Then, I am in a house, where my youngest brother is a little boy again, maybe three or four, and I am trying to wake him up to tell him I will get help. He is sleeping on a mattress on the floor and there are clothes and toys everywhere. I need to kick a path to where he is sleeping. He knows my step dad wants to kill me. He is faking that he is asleep to stay safe, but I need him to wake up and take my cell phone so when the police finally fucking answer, he can tell them where to go. My phone is wrapped in plastic so I don’t get blood on it and I tuck it under his pillow. I also want him to hold the puppy because I know she will be safe with him. I go to pick her up off the floor and I see that my step dad has chopped her head off, only when I pick her up, she is alive and her head is still attached with only a three or four inch slice on her neck. I started walking down Blair Street. This is a street we lived on when I was 14 years old. It was a small street, maybe 12 houses on each side. I was walking down Blair Street and my step dad was behind me with a shot gun. He was firing off shots and I was weaving between cars and yelling for someone who could help the puppy. A lady came running out of my aunt’s house and said she could help so I handed her my puppy and I went running down the street to the end of the road because there was a fire truck parked there. By the time I got to the fire truck, there was a carnival going on. Suddenly, I was riding this airplane type ride, my second youngest brother (who is a colossal disappointment to me) was in the front and I was sitting behind him. I asked if he was having fun and he said ‘yes, but only because I am here with you.” and he looked at me with his eight year old face, front tooth missing and the biggest grin, beaming from ear to ear.
Then I woke up crying.
