Me and Sara

So, Sara (the sistah) got all up in a tizzy because I told y'all she was a cannibal but I (heaven forbid) failed to mention to y'all that I was a heroin addict. (These were just dreams we had of each other, of course. I'm not really a heroin addict.) Anyways...so, I've copied and pasted what she wrote on her blog about her dream of me. 

Mr. Sandman, Bring me a dream...

Since Ruth decided to share her horrific dream she had about me the other night on her blog, I decided that I needed to share my dream about her. We must have some weird sister brain connection cause we had these dreams on the same night.

Here is my dream about her:

Ruth and I were in this huge hotel .... I have no idea why... and Ruth thought it would be a great idea to try heroin. She said that being pregnant made her have this huge craving for heroin and she just had to try it. So she orders some from room service and they brought it up to her. I begged and pleaded with her do not do it. "please, please don't do that heroin, Ruth. It's bad for the babies. You have to think about them over your cravings." But she wouldn't listen to me.. she just had to try it. So I left Ruth and the twins with the heroin.

The rest of my dream consisted of my car being stolen from the parking deck of the hotel. I was devastated cause my Mac was in the car. So that's it. That's my story about my dream.

I am a cannibal and Ruth likes heroin.

Can I help that the twins like illegal drugs? No. Anyways. 

Sara and I are super close. We weren't always, though. We were pretty mean to each other growing up. Well, she was mean...I was an angel. She would tell me horror stories and from the ages of 4 until probably 18, I couldn't sleep without checking the closets and under my bed. She informed me that there was an octopus that lived under my bed and would grab my legs unless I ran and jumped to get into bed. Also, there was an unconnected hand that roamed the halls at night. I thought by naming him Mike, it would add a hint of friendliness, but no...it made it worse. Mike, with his chipped nails and split cuticles, was roaming the halls...little patters of fingers.... I would pick up the phone when she was talking to a friend or boyfriend and make noises. Back in the days of dial-up, I would hog the internet for hooooours just so she couldn't use the phone. We'd blame each other for everything. When Noah and Peter came along...we discovered we were geniuses and could blame them for everything, so we did. I think that's when our bonding process started. 

Sara and I were super duper tomboys...still are, actually. We liked cowboys and Indians and building forts and throwing knives and tomahawks, etc. Well, we had cowboy hats, boots and vests each, but only one Indian headdress. Who would be the Indian? Little 3-year old Noah. We'd grab the red clay in the front yard and cover him in it...he made a delightful little Indian boy. When he and Peter (when Peter came along) were a little older...we'd gather acorns in our Indian pouches (our great-great grandmother was a full-blooded Cherokee and we heard so many amazing stories about her, so we liked Indians...just to clarify all the Indian talk) and use the brothers as target practice for our slingshots. Sometimes (usually) they'd tattle on us and we'd get in trouble, but it'd be worth it. Because we had amazing aim, so all the practice paid off. 

Thankfully, we live in the same city, so I get to see her all the time. She's a great sister and a great friend...a cannibal...but no less a great friend.