The Exit (a #dream)

We had just moved to a small town in Sweden and I was fourteen again. My older sister (Charlene? Charlotte?) and I didn't feel welcome among the local population at first but that changed after a few parties that mainly she attended. 

I remember the laughter coming out of her room when she had a couple of her new friends over for a sleepover and suddenly found myself a few years older, trying to find my way in a house that seemed to be constructed of only stairs. Some lead to only more stairs, some just hovered above the ground while others ended up against the side of a different set of stairs and others simply disappeared. 

Occassionally I would encounter a couple of boys, teenagers, sitting on the stairs, pointing at me and laughing: "He really can't find the exit, can he?"

Tribe members (a #dream)

Father said I was too young to have my own hammer and chisel. So I ran away and took the cart. It was made up of old car parts welded together and painted bright red. It had no roof and over the head support I had placed a handwoven piece of cloth, creating a makeshift sail to make the cart go even faster. 

The wheels were from a large lawnmower and it went very fast down from the hill where we lived. Racing down, I noticed the small hole in the sandy ground in which Father had buried my future (unfinished) hammer and chisel. 

I almost lost control when I pulled the ropes controlling the front wheels when I wanted to turn left at the bottom of the hill and for a moment only the right wheels touched the ground. Still panting I stood still and noticed a man had saved me from a yet unknown danger. He introduced himself as 'Palmer' and wore a grey warriors outfit. Including a helmet with leather flaps over the ears. 

I was confused because Father had told me only tribe members helped each other. Was this 'Palmer' a member of our tribe? Come to think of it, next to Father I had never seen other tribe members.