Good morning, everybody.
I was in some place like a school or daycare for young children. I'm pretty sure I was an adult assigned to supervising the children.
We all stood out in some kind of concrete yard. The yard was huge, like a few basketball courts all put together. On one side of the concrete yard was a huge, brick or concrete building, which was the school or day care building. On the other side of the yard was a huge fence.
I may actually have come through this fence, entering the yard, as I spoke with a woman who was already inside with the children. The woman was taller than me and she seemed mature more mature, although not much older than I am IWL. She probably had tan skin and short, black hair. She probably wore a jacket-like, red blouse and a red skirt that went down to just below her knees.
I seemed to have to wind my way through a few layers of fence before I actually got inside. Once inside I stood near a dense cluster of kids who stood at tables, possibly even foosball tables. I also saw into a room in the day care building. There were a few rooms in a row with their doors open. But I think I only looked into one of the rooms.
All this time, I had been asking the woman something. It was part of a favor for my friend, who was another woman. At first I think my "asking" was more like thinking in my head. But then I could really hear my voice clearly as I asked the question.
I said, "A friend of mine is going to be in this part of town. She's going to be bringing a girl with her. The girl is just a kid. My friend is the girl's mentor. But they're looking for something to do. I was wondering if... I know we're not supposed to allow any other adults into this center... But I was wondering if my friend could bring the girl in here, and they could play on our raquetball courts for a little while."
The woman and I were walking out onto a wide, open area in the concrete yard. The foosball players were behind us. I could imagine the raquetball courts just behind the area where the foosball players were playing.
I knew that the rules didn't allow any adults to come into the daycare center. But I thought (and I may have said to the woman) that perhaps my friend and the girl she was helping could come in here when all the kids were in class. This didn't seem quite plausible to me. I thought that there were always at least a few kids out here all the time, since the timing of different classes were staggered. But I thought that maybe my friend could come here when the fewest children were here, and so do the least damage.
Up at the end of the concrete yard was something like a covered walkway, a tunnel-like hallway through the day care building. I saw my old friend Y coming up through the walkway, out onto the concrete yard. She was stumbling and holding onto the right (my right) wall, as if she were drunk. Her shirt was hanging off, exposing a blue, satiny bra with lace trim. She had long, long hair. Mascara smears trailed down from her eyes.
The daycare teacher, walking at my right side, spoke to me. (She now seemed a lot taller than I.) She told me I couldn't bring my friend into the daycare because there were no adults allowed. I already felt ashamed for even having asked. But the daycare teacher told me that, instead of worrying about my friend, maybe I could occupy myself by taking care of one of my other friends.
Just like I may have been a child supervisor, this other friend of mine may also have been a child supervisor. But she was in a wheelchair and she needed a lot of assistance in taking care of herself.
My wheelchair friend was suddenly before my teacher and I. My wheelchair friend was blonde, maybe about my age or a little older, though her face may have been a little round and chubby, like a baby's.
The daycare teacher had kept walking forward, possibly saying that she had to go take care of some other kids. I took hold of my friend's wheelchair and turned it in a beeline, heading back toward some place, possibly toward some room where I could take care of my friend.
I was now in some big room. It was like a library in a mansion, with heavy, dark wood walls. But it seemed to be almost completely empty of furniture.
Some time had probably passed. I was laying on the top bunk of some extremely tall bunk bed. I knew my wheelchair friend was somewhere down below me, maybe sleeping on the bottom bunk. We had both either slept or had gotten ready to go to sleep for the night. But now I felt the need to make sure that something was okay for my friend.
So I (flew? floated?) down to the floor of this enormous, heavy-wood-walled room. I landed on some gigantic Persian rug. I could tell that my friend had left the room. The door to the room was probably cracked open.
I knew my friend would come back. She'd just had to take care of something for herself. But I was a little disappointed to know that she had gone off to take care of something for herself, when I was supposed to be the one caring for her.
I looked down at myself to see that I was wearing nothing but a huge diaper. I was surprised to be wearing a diaper, even though I think I liked it. I think I was excited to show my friend that I was wearing a diaper. I think my friend was also wearing a diaper. I felt like both of us wearing diapers would make us both adult babies. So we'd have something in common!
I started to pee in my diaper. I kept peeing and peeing. I didn't know whether this diaper would hold as much pee as I seemed to be giving out. But I just kept going and going, hoping I could stop myself if I started to leak.
But I finally stopped peeing. My diaper hadn't leaked, though it was really, really full. I couldn't see my diaper, for some reason. But I knew it was probably huge and soggy. I could feel it really huge between my legs as I waddle-walked around in it.
I couldn't wait to show my friend how much I'd pottied in my diaper! I thought she'd be really turned on, or at least impressed, by how full my diaper was.
But then I suddenly wondered: did I mess something up? Did I somehow turn the tables around through some incompetence of mine? It seemed like I was now thinking of my friend as my caretaker, instead of as myself as my friend's caretaker. I was definitely looking forward to my friend changing my diaper, for instance. But I was also disappointed in myself for making myself so I was the one in need of care. I hoped my friend wouldn't also be disappointed in me.
I imagined my friend coming back into the room as a tall, blonde, beautiful business woman in her early to mid forties. I imagined her wearing a cream-colored, button-up blouse and a long, thick-fabric, brown skirt.