Do dreams lie? More importantly, do my dreams lie? One memorable quote from the woman who broke my heart was that her job gets so stressful and/or the harangue of daily life so unbearable, that some consideration to leave her current job to go to work for the library was briefly contemplated.
That didn't happen when I dreamt that it would. My dream came to me after Izzie Peskett arrived. She had worked in the valley as a page. She said she went to school somewhere in the east (N.Y., Connecticut, Massachusetts ?) who knows where.
From the on-line information I have uncovered about Ana Garcia, she also went to school in New York. There are so many things that disprove that Ana Garcia is Selma, I don't understand my insistence for claiming she is her.
My mind is grabbing images scattered along the media as if they are body parts among the ruin of the WTC attack and it constructs a convincing argument of how and why things can be the way I want them to be. In ignorance I won't let myself be lead for I've already decided that my wasted life is worthless without somebody to spend it with. The problem is I believe there is nobody for me.
So I go about my business as if everything is fine. I turn a blind eye to the many attractive women I see during the course of the day because I'm not one to take a chance without a motive. By that, I mean, there are two types of women. The one who you are attracted to and the one who you are attracted to who shows an interest.
The situation is this, it seems, if Selma really is Ana Garcia, Izzie Peskett already knows this. If not, then that still doesn't disqualify the possibility that Selma and Izzie know one another. Also, if not, then it was probably Ana Garcia who visited the library in 2005. I wonder why?
So if Ana Garcia and Selma are not one in the same, who knows what Selma must look like now? But one of the key points that was so convincing was Selma's double. Two weeks after she (or A.G.) visited, another woman whom we'll refer to as Conté (to protect the innocent), walked in whom, by the way, I've seen infrequently as a regular customer. The distinguishing factor was all in the hands, and the way Conté tried to convince me that it was her who stopped by a few weeks earlier. I know it's very likely I am wrong about this and that Conté really was who I believe to have been Selma, but if that is so, then Conté must've had a major make-over manicure done on her hands.
I asked Conté if she was Selma. She told me "no." She couldn't possibly be Ana Garcia because then Ana Garcia would also have those fancy fingernails on TV. It seems nobody is Selma, but anybody could be Ana Garcia.
And in case the doctor/patient privacy privelege doesn't apply to social worker/patient relations, then headaches like these can really bring niagra falls tears to my eyes?