“It’s 5 a.m., my alarm rings and for a moment I contemplate if I really do want to go fishing again. My grandfather knocks on my door and whispers “if you want to come, well we better get going now.” I roll out of bed and put on maybe 13 layers of sweatpants. 

 

“That’s a sport!” I imagine he says. 

 

And I love how happy I've made him at this moment. 

 

As we ride out along the bay, well there isn’t ever much to say, and I get to wondering if I’m doing this the right way. 

 

I wonder what it will be like if we catch the biggest fish we ever dreamed of last night! I wonder how happy he’d be if everything was done right.

 

But that wasn’t our dream. Instead that day we caught a bunch of undertow and had to cut things short. 

And part of me was so saddened that it had to be this way.

 

While the other half of me was grateful that no one had to die today.”

 

Please come back to me, Cristina lets get some sleep, this is someone else’s dream. I hear from a distance. 

 

Love, 

~ Cassandra’s fairytale version of reality
 

For the first time reading this page in my journal I realize I am not “right in the mind,” and I don’t want to just “let it go.” 

 

I start to wonder if other people’s oppressions matter at all? If jealousy is something that we can control? If we are all connected and living under the same family tree? 

 

Most of all I think how elegant it would be if we believed in each other's dreams. 

 

And then I get to thinking that she shouldn’t just let it go. 

And that maybe right is not really right at all.