Thursday, August 11, 2016

The Peace Of Pony Things

Let the record show that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has been slightly freaking out just a smidgen over the past week or so, what with The Pony's departure for college imminent.  I dreamed that I lost him in The Devil's Playground the other night. Not the regular Devil's Playground, but in a dream one located on the plaza, where Farmer H says he's getting that drug-delivery job from a pharmacy in an unmarked storefront.

That place where I dream-lost The Pony used to be a supermarket. One where they soaked old smelly chickens in buckets of bleach, then repackaged them with a new date. So said my claimants at the local unemployment office, anyway. And in my dream world, it was not very good to Ponies, either.

I dream-left The Pony in a large game room at the left of the dream-Devil's-Playground entrance. After him not-dream-texting me back, I tried to call him, then went back to the dream game room. A kid there told me that The Pony said he wasn't feeling well, but didn't know where he dream-went. I searched the store three times, went into a service hall that kept getting smaller and smaller, and was made of molded plastic like those shower inserts, except for a section of shiplap low to the floor where I could see through to a storage area. Still, no Pony. Then I went out front to see if he was dream-sitting in T-Hoe, but he wasn't, and wasn't out front by the coin-operated rocky-horse, either. Back inside, I was frantically trying to dream-call him again, when I turned around and saw him standing under a set of school gym bleachers, his elbow propped insouciantly on the underside of a bleacher, wearing his moisture-wicking highlighter-colored shirt with gray shorts, smirking at me! I was so happy to dream-see him that I didn't even mind the smirk. Oh, and he was taller than normal, too.

Maybe I should take a page from The Pony's playbook, though he's not at all athletic, and I daresay does not even know what a playbook is, and relax and commune with nature. Like he did in Poolio today. With a new friend:

Not sure what's going on here. But some folks think dragonflies are symbolic.


Sioux said...

A change is about to come? One that involves emotional maturity?

Ladybugs that bring you messages. Dragonflies that are symbolic. You country folk are just buggy.

Hillbilly Mom said...

We respect our critters. We even let sleeping possums lie. But when one was still in the exact same position at 4:30 as it had been at 7:00 that morning...Farmer H tossed it over the fence into the neighbors' field. That's because I vetoed his original plan to chuck it down the sinkhole.