May 1994
Debbie and I were playing Marco Polo on the ocean at night. I was terrified. We were in small tubes in the middle of the ocean and she would hide from me, and I would have to find her. I was afraid she would leave me and I would be lost out there forever or eaten by sharks. At one point, I remember running into a buoy and screaming in fright.
We were then suddenly back in someone’s basement talking. She had a crew cut and her hair was bleached white. She then produced a model of what it used to look like before she cut it. It was white, cut in a circle on top of her head standing straight up about five inches high.
I was at the Hayfields with a blonde girl, I don’t know who, and possible John Brooks. She had just swept the area completely clear of glass and debris and we were complementing her on her work. We then waited for others to show up.
(Somethings, it seems they are not worth writing down.)
