Wed. morning

OK lots of dream, little memory... so here goes:

I am in High School, there is some kind of big assembly going on.
I am wandering around, and soon settle down in a side corner by the stage. People are handing out playbills, one of these people is in the same space as me. It's a guy, in a white shirt.

A little girl with poofy hair, like a light brown or reddish 'fro asks me if I have seen her friend. I tell her no, she looks distressed, the friend has been in some sort of accident. I do what I can to inquire on her behalf asking the guy with the playbills if he knows anything, he does not. I send her and her friend off to another hallway to ask an adult.

So much more happens that I cannot remember. But soon a frail pale little girl arrives again, she is ADAMANT that I find out what happened to her friend (the one in the accident) OK OK I will help her, and I extract myself from the stage area to take her hand and take her to the office. I know only one person will know. The principal. I also know you do not get into see him just on a whim. So I instruct the girl to follow my lead.
I walk her into the reception area of the office, and greet and whiz past the receptionist. WHo in turn, starts up: "HEY, you can't go in there," but it's too lake, I have opened the door to the offices behind the reception area. They are all empty. a few things litter the floor, phone cords and such.

The receptionist is focused on me and the little pale frail girl.
We are here to see Mr. Taft I say, confused.
(Mr Taft was my High School principal in Houston who died in my sophomore year)
"all of the administrative faculty have moved to the ***** street offices" she tells me.

I start to ask about the little girls friend.
The receptionist tells me she is dead, died on her way to school in a horrible accident. I realize pale frail girl has witnessed it, and is desperate to know if she survived.
There is an African American woman nearby
she corrects receptionist.
"No," she said, "that girl is still alive, she was taken to **** emergency room and is in intensive care"

So frail girl has her answer, and I return to white shirt boy and he has a blanket which covers us both.
but then all American girl arrives and slides in behind him.
"Cherry Vanilla" she says over and over again as she sways back and forth.
I see she is his sweetheart and there is no room for me under the blanket in the assembly at the school by the stage.

I am not the cherry vanilla type of girl.

I move on, alone