I have a daughter named Myelin. She sends me postcards to Evans Lake. I'm at camp there. I wander around upper field. Joe is here, as is my mother. A snippy girl who looks like a cross between buffy the vampire slayer (I think) and a girl who beat me in the grade 8 student council election and then didn't go to student council meetings is in the mess hall, which is where the rec hall should be. She tells me my underwear smells bad; I tell her "at least I'm wearing some"; we glare at each other and she wanders off. I'm 18 (I remember thinking so. I'm not really.), but they've let me in as a camper anyhow. (the maximum age is 14) Still, I have special privileges. As the sun sets I sit under a log shelter with counselors and joseph/cameron, chatting and feeding the fire. We pass around a picture: about 15 oldish well-dressed men (think: picture of a board of school trustees from the 50s) all playing or holding guitars, crammed in to the skytrain. Oh, the skytrain! I must bus home from camp. I am on a bus. The driver misses my neighbourhood because he's distracted; we go for another spin around the whole route. There's a girl, Andrea, who's just had some horrible tragedy happen to her. A fire or something. The driver keeps embarassing her unintentionally by calling attention to her bravery and asking if she's okay. Finally, as we swing by Jericho Firehouse (this does not really exist) for the second time (I hope he makes the right turn this time), he gets some news on his radio. He tries to break it to her gently, but halfway through his clumsy introduction she can clearly tell he's about to say that her family is dead, so she just shakes her head, walks out of the bus and away. He is about to follow her, a well meaning but stupid puppy. I stop him with a hug (he's bare chested and sweaty now. eek. I am eerily reminded of the local fireman's calendar.) and tell him that though he means well, he's being a dork, now please come back and drive the bus. He kisses my forehead and sheepishly goes back to bus driving. At the next stop, when I am about to get off, Ben and Joe (the dynamic dream-haunting duo) get on the bus. They're wearing tuxedos with tails. Ben wobbles a bit; he's obviously a bit tipsy. Joe tells me someone spiked the punch with soy sauce. (ben is allergic to same) Heehee. We convince the bus driver to detour in to ubc and drop ben off at the frat house. The frat boys know how to take care of a tipsy roommate: they put ice cubes in his socks and tuck him in to bed. Joe and I forget where we were going; we go to sleep on the mysterious warm concrete block in the south side of ubc.