I'm a Thief

I was four or five years old when late one night - in my memory, it seems too late for a little girl to be out and about and awake - I accompanied my mother to the grocery store. At that time, the local Food Lion had a small display of comic books and character trading cards. It was to this mecca I escaped when Mom became good and distracted in the bread aisle.

The books and cards featured all of the usual heroes: Batman, Spider-Man, Donald Duck, Popeye... My attention, though, was on a shiny, plastic-wrapped pack of Darkwing Duck trading cards. "D.W." (Dark-wing), as his friends called him, was one of my favorites. I watched his show faithfully. These cards - I had to have them. Excited, I stuck the pack in my pocket and ran back to my mother to show her what I'd found.

But oh, woe is me and alas, Mother denied my request to purchase the cards! "You will have to put them back," she told me. (Words no four- or five-year-old wants to hear!) But I was an obedient child - go ahead, ask my mom or dad - and so I did not argue or complain. I slipped the cards back into my pocket so that I could return them to their shelf when we walked by to check out.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. I love my mommy, and I love food, so we probably just had a good ol' time walking through the grocery store. So let's fast forward through this part. (I know: my story-telling skills are admirable.)

When we got home, I helped Mom carry in groceries and put away the things whose cabinets and shelves I could reach. With this chore out of the way we made our way into the hall to put our coats in the closet. For whatever reason - maybe I was wearing gloves, maybe I was reaching for my Chapstick, maybe I was looking for loose change - I put my hands into my pockets before handing over my coat. As soon as my fingers felt the cool, smooth, crunchy plastic my stomach filled with panic. I yanked the pack of Darkwing Duck cards out of my coat and, eyes filling with tears, held them up in front of my mommy.

"Emily Morgen!" she must have exclaimed. "We did not pay for those. You were told to put them back. We do not steal. It is wrong."

Well, I was no dummy. I knew that. And Mom must have known I knew that as tears and snot ran down my face. "I didn't mean to!" I must have blubbered back to her. "I forgot to put them back!"

And it was true. I was horrified at myself. There are not many things I have concrete memories of from that time in my life, but this situation remains in my mind as clear as if it happened yesterday. I remember Mom telling me I would have to return the cards to the store - a thought that made me want to throw up it was so humiliating - but I'm sure she never made me go through with it. Whatever happened, though, I no longer have the cards.

So needless to say, I've never really been tempted to steal or shoplift. In real life, at least. Bear with me here.

See, my friend Aaron has this great pair of Nike 6.0s. They're black and gray with orange accents. A really hot pair of shoes. Unfortunately, his feet are a few sizes too huge for me, so even if he wanted to let me borrow them, it wouldn't work out. Last month, I had this crazy dream. I can't even recall what it was about anymore, but in the dream I was wearing Aaron's shoes. Aaron wasn't even in the dream, but in my dreamy all-knowingness I knew I'd stolen his sweet Nikes. No remorse. When I told Aaron the story, he asked me, "Did you take anything else?!" And that got me thinking: What all have I stolen in my sleepy slumber time?

There have been a few dreams in which I stole something from bad guys and they were chasing me for it. I'm pretty sure I've stolen a kiss or two. Maybe someone's boyfriend. Maybe an identity here and there. But I never feel bad about it when I'm dreaming it. Which makes me wonder...

What kind of person am I when I'm sleeping?! Goodness.

Man, I love Darkwing Duck.

And no, this post didn't have much of a point, except to tell y'all a little story or two.

Happy Monday!