I was sleeping. I was asleep. In a dream at the
edge of consciousness, I was time-travelling with my wife, attempting to show
her what I was like when I younger. I wished to inform my younger self: it will
get better. Is that all I wanted? It will get better. It did. The tricky part
of our travel was in attempting to speak solo to my younger self, without
attracting the attention of parents, classmates or teachers. From a distance, I
attempted to catch the eye of my pre-teen self on the public school playground,
from the edges of brush. Did I find myself? What did I say? I woke before the
narrative completed. I have not thought of that playground for a very long
time. The method in which we travelled was never revealed. I would like to know
how the story ended.
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