I was in this yellow room. Lisa Simpson was on a bed that sat by the stairs leading down. Her mother, Marge, was standing by and listing to what Lisa had to say.
"I know I am too young," she started tearfully, brushing the cascading snot from under her nose, "But it was the most magical moment of my life. Having sex with him felt so right, so great! I know you hate me now mom, but I could not stop myself from doing it!" Now, I don't who she had done The Deed with, or why, or even what age she was. She looked 8, but that was because she was partly hunched over. I could not see any chest-like evidence to her womanhood. what's even more odd is that usually images of Lisa OR Bart doing sexual things gross me out. Because I watched them from a young age I feel their sex life is like my brothers. Something I don't ever want to know about! Yet I watched normally.
Marge had no comment.
Suddenly, like all dreams, the scene changed. I was resting on a long chair beside a small pool by a huge-old style hotel. My aunt was sitting next to me. "So, did you know that Jennifer Anitson is related to us?" she said to me.
"Your Kidding really?" I asked.
"Yes. But only distantly."
"Does this mean that Grandma is her Aunt?"
"Yes, it does. I saw in People Magazine that she was reading about our family history. I know she does it!" This is where things got really jumbled. I was suppose to see my friends, but they about to leave with my aunt to talk about something, and then go to some fair. The one clear image I have after celebrity mention was me, trying to get into my yellow carpeted room while talking to my old therapist. I am unsure what she was saying, but it sounded stern and directed at someone else. About here is when I woke up.
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