I met my first best friend when I was little - very little, so little I can't even remember how old I was. I don't really remember meeting him, either; it's just sort of a half-memory, like the dream I had about being in the red lake with whales trying to eat me. I thought it was real for the longest time, until I finally realized it was an impossible situation. So I guess that was my first dream. Apparently I went out and found my friend one day at the park, and from there our mothers became best friends too, so I always saw him. I remember his house and what sort of things the family posted on their refrigerator, and all of the great toys in the basement and their pool in the backyard. But I moved away before I turned five. He moved too, and now that I've come back to that town to live I was just thinking about him again. I thought about how I used to rollerblade on the sidewalks outside of the architecture college when I was sitting on them, sketching in class the other day, and I wonder if my dad took the same sidewalks to class and if my grandparents walked under the same trees. Then I blink and pretend that the past selves of all these people I know have taken over my perspective, without knowing who I am of course because I haven't been born yet. Or maybe my mother walking her little girl up to the library to check out children's books one day blinked and was alone, suddenly wearing converses and keeping curly hair out of her eyes. Sometimes she realizes it's me and sometimes she doesn't because I get distracted and the real me has to take over again. But I remember her telling me after we moved - in a serious voice, if I remember correctly - that God told her I was going to marry my first best friend. What am I supposed to make of that? In fact, why would a mother ever say something of the sort to her young daughter? I don't know if she had cancer yet or not - but if she did, and she really believed this premonition herself, then maybe she wanted me to know before it was too late. But then again, maybe she didn't have it yet and was kidding with me, thinking I'd be too young to remember it later. Maybe I was too little to distinguish between seriousness and a joke. But that would be one of the first things I would ask her, if I could. I wish it WERE true though. I wish he would come back here himself and I wouldn't have to worry about the future anymore. Of course I don't think I believe in premonitions, because if they existed, they would take the uncertainty out of life. And uncertainty is integral to the human experience. Then again, I'm still living with uncertainty even having heard that. So maybe it IS true - or will be, rather. Either way, I just don't know.