I officially relinquished my chaperon duties a full week ago today. And yet again last night I awoke with a start, sitting bolt-upright muttering in a panicked voice, "Where are the girls?!! Where are the girls?!!"
I know this actually happens, because I wake myself up in the process. My eyes are open, but I can't make out the room around me. In the dark, with the myopia that makes my world at night look like a blue-black impressionist painting, I squint and scan the room looking for the row of bunks that should stretch down the long room to my left. But the room is not long and the bunks are not there.
The street light coming in the windows is not the same as it was in the bunkhouse and I look around struggling to figure out what is going on and where I am. It's happened nearly every night. And it's kind of upsetting.
The really odd thing is that I certainly didn't feel very chaperon-y during the trip. I felt more like a passenger on the ship than anyone involved with steering it. Guess the sense of responsibility somehow crept into my subconscious. Wonder when it will leave.
2 comments:
What's that about? Its gotta be an eery feeling, is it still happening?
Who posted this comment? Anyone I know?
It actually stopped after I wrote about it. I find that happens a lot in my life. Writing about things sorts them out.
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