Twenty Three
The next thing I know, I'm an outsider watching something happen from above. I must be in the future dream again, because it appears that the people can't see me, though I can see them just fine. I get a good look around and realize that I'm at a dress shop, particularly for wedding dresses. "How do you like this one, sweetie?" My mom emerges from behind a rack full of beautiful white, pearly dresses. I can tell that the particular dress she's holding won't quite reach the ground on me; I'm considered pretty tall for my age. She turns to the right and walks towards what must be me in the future. "I like that one." I hear future Freaya say. But if I know myself—and I'm pretty sure I know myself better than anyone else—she's not fully convinced. I'm not convinced, either. Good call, fu
- Writer
