Missisister Queen

I dreamed I was walking up and down an unfamiliar road.  The day was filled with bright sunshine, and it was warm, but not hot.  I was passing by a particular house and looking.  Not in a stalker sort of way, but in the sort of way I used to lurk about my friend Katherine’s house when I was seven years old.  I would ride on my bike back and forth, back and forth, waiting for her to come outside, fearful of knocking on the door and having to speak with her father.  I would just ride my bike and let my spokey dokes make their noise, hoping she would hear it and come outside to play with me.

I knew that there was someone in the house I wanted to hang out with, but I couldn’t place who the person was.  Then, AT, my missisister comes out.  Sweet.  I was all like, “It’s great to meet you, but I don’t know how I got to your house.”  She had been expecting me.  We were dressed in stylish clothes, nothing too dressy.  We were both wearing heels.

She motioned for me to follow her.  I was worried about our heels and the soft, moist grass, which was a vibrant green.  I didn’t want to mess up our shoes or the grass.  She assured me it was fine and led me to a smaller house in back that had a massive wrap around porch.  It was the type of porch that reminds me of decades past.  The kind of porch that children could easily play under.  We went under the porch.  I was confused, but she, once again, assured me that this was the way.  Suddenly, there was a door that led to a BEAUTIFUL shoppe.

There was handcrafted jewelry, handmade dresses and skirts, hand dyed curtains, and many other beautiful gifts I can’t remember.  It was our shoppe.  I was still confused, and she seemed exasperated.  Apparently, me, AT, and RG had the idea to open a shoppe on the coast in Mississippi.  We named the shoppe Missisister Queen.


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