No more numbers, please.

Last night I had a nightmare about math. That is how much I loathe it. I saw the numbers in front of me and immediately felt nauseated. I also felt confused and trapped; why had the page appeared before me? What diabolical genius had plotted my demise in such a horrific manner? Who would save me from this torment? It was quite an uncomfortable feeling. I started struggling through the problems, trying to remember what on earth I had last learned in high school, which hadn't been much--Mrs. Sadler had been my teacher and I had been sitting next to my two friends Andrew and Stephen....needless to say, my senior year of math was basically a joke.
It's not that I don't understand math. I just hate it to the core of my being. I'm actually decent at it. But my will to not do it is so very strong.

If there is a paper to be written, I'm there. A play to direct, put me in charge. A novel to create, I jump at the chance. These are challenges that appeal to me. But ask me to explore the complexities of a logarithm, and I shut off.

My dream came to a happy conclusion when my friend Dain took the paper away from me, saying he would do it.

So, ah, the point of the dream emerges.

I'm going to miss my friend Dain. He is the one friend who, it seems, has always been home. Or, at least, what I consider home: Bountiful Utah. He's been my friend since high school and I hope he will be my friend for many years to come.

That's another thing about me. I am a sentimental old coot. Since high school, I have made many new friends, of course. But the friends that have always meant the most to me are the friends I've had since good ol' Woods Cross High. They are the friends I hang with, eat with, travel with. The friends whose couches I have crashed on, whose kitchens I know like my own, whose toilets I've had arguments with. (Whitney, that's for you.) They are the people who tell me to wear sunscreen, who make sure I'm properly hydrated, who hand out food assignments for our next get-togethers. They are like family to me.
I frequently go to dinner at my friend Whitney's, and it's always a good time. I'd been telling my mom about all of our dinners, and she said, "You know, Elise, I think that you might just have lifelong friends in these people." I like that idea. I like the notion of people you know and care about all your life, not because you're obligated to by blood or legal ties, but because you enjoy each other's company so much that you just can't seem to get rid of each other. No matter who moves so far away that, if you have a math assignment, you might have to email it to them...