Why Was I Here?

I go through long periods of time without dreaming. Or, at least not remembering dreams. That’s not been the case lately.

The latest edition, I was afraid to reveal, because it was so bizarre. It had something to do with my daughter–who resides in the Melbourne, Australian suburbs.

Her home and surrounding property were a popular weekend hangout for revelers. In addition to strangers imbibing various alcoholic beverages, there were some bizarre activities.

Partygoers threw packages of frozen meat, stones, bricks, at the back of her home. It had no effect on the building, as it was constructed of bricks and concrete.

My concern, why hadn’t she called the local police? “If you don’t call the police–then I will.” She didn’t seem to be concerned.

Out of desperation, I went to the backyard and interviewed a small group of young men. “Why are you doing this?” “We’re just having fun. Anything for the sake of having a good time, ” One of them answered.

“I’d hate to be the one that had to mow this lawn–with all the rocks scattered about. And, what about the meat? It’s everywhere. It’s going to stink in a few days.”

Again, daughter number three, was nonplussed. I may have failed to mention, that my vehicle for driving on local roads, was a vintage 1955 Mercury, two-door hardtop.

Author: warturoadam77p

70 year old married retired communications worker with three grown children, transplanted from the Midwest to the sunny Gulf Coast.

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