Last Thursday night: I got a phone call from the center where my grandmother lives. The woman on the phone told me she had died the week before. I was shocked. Why wouldn't they call me when it happened? I began crying, then moaning, completely wracked with overwhelming grief. I moaned and moaned.
Last night: SL and I were in a large house. We were trying to heat a large amount of water to use in a bathtub that would be like a hot tub. I was trying to start a machine that would heat the water quickly but it didn't work. I had various large containers being heated and would then move the water to the bigger porcelain tub.
I went to the front door to lock it once I figured we were close to being able to get into the tub of heated water. I realized the door lock didn't work. I opened the front door and it was night. Several teenagers were out there and they told me that we weren't welcome there. They had heard about us from people who had left our house earlier. They started to gesture in a way that told me they were about to throw Molotov cocktails at the house and would also chase us down.
I slammed the door and we started running through the house to escape. I felt S at my side, gripping my arm, and I had to urge her to move faster because we had to flee. She was terrified and could hardly move. We finally made it out to a backyard and met some people who I began to tell the story to, so they could help us.
