Measuring Amy’s mood

It was great to be back at school instructing, and the first day was an emotional one for many of the parents, dropping their children off and snapping Polaroid’s for posterity. Some of my science class students had participated in the Chalk Cave spring field trip; so after we held a discussion about improving cave communications, half the class decided to work on a project for developing the newfangled underground antenna to further refinement.

After class, I walked down the quiet hall, carrying one of the multi-pronged antennas out to the van, when Amy suddenly whipped around the corner and one of my metal tentacles snagged on her golden hair. It took a few minutes for me to untangle her; and while brushing against Amy, I remembered the sensual flying dream we had experienced. Then as she looked at me with an unsettled gaze, I realized that I had absent-mindedly forgotten to tell her about the soaring dream! I guess it was so vivid, that I subconsciously assumed she already knew about it. But now with reality back on the radar, I folded the transmitter up, grabbed Amy’s hand in the hallway, and started to recollect the dramatic dream, demonstrating how we steered in the sky by using each others wrists as joysticks.

Amy smiled a few times, as I went on with the tale. At the part, where she showed me how to control our altitude through breathing; she said it felt like a fantasy straight out of Hesse’s Demian. Then, as I tried to ask Amy how her classes were going, she shot out, “Why haven’t you called me for three weeks, Max Rudolph!” I was left speechless, and after we parted ways, all the way home with the antenna annoyingly rattling around in the back of the pantechnicon; I realized that I should find a way to make it up to her.

While cruising north, the new speed limit of 45, gave me some constructive time to plan how to make things right again with Amy. The antenna bouncing around in the back, reminded me of various other unseen communication channels. Then it dawned on me that I should travel up to Hollie Jewelers to find Amy a pendulum so she can read my true intentions. As I walked into the jewelry store its high vibration reminded me of a holistic healing center or perhaps a church. While Leanne laid out a small array of pendulums on the counter, I immediately saw which one was Amy’s. It was the sage-green one; earthy, with tiny specks of star-shine glittering from its outer edge cuts. Leanne, kindly allowed me test the pendulum, and when I asked if it was right for Amy, it spun wildly in an affirmative direction.

I left Hollie Jewelers with a secure feeling of joy in my heart. The gift-wrapped pendulum would be a unique way to open the door for Amy to accept my apology. I even remembered to charge my cell phone this time, and as I drove the 45 mph back down valley, I called and asked if she could meet me again over at McClain’s Pizza, where I would surprise her with the dynamic gift.

About the author: Jim Banholzer has been practicing driving his pantechnicon at 45 mph in anticipation of the healthy new speed limit reduction.