Some Kind of Dennis Voodoo Shit

I have memories from childhood that make sense to remember. Driving the boat with my dad. Going to Clothes World with my mom. Things that actually happened and were important enough to stick with me.

And then I have THIS one.

I was probably 9 or 10, right around that age when your little world starts getting bigger. I was old enough to venture farther from my own yard, play with more kids on the block, and start meeting the older kids my friends and siblings knew.

There was a boy named Scot who played with my best friend’s brother. Scot had older brothers and sisters, just like I did. One of his brothers was named Dennis, and for some reason, I can still see myself standing there on our block, looking toward their house.

Nothing special was happening. It wasn’t some big childhood moment. As far as I remember, it was just an ordinary day, an ordinary house, and a 9- or 10-year-old girl thinking about absolutely nothing important. Then somebody mentioned his brother. Dennis. And I remember looking toward that house and thinking, **“I don’t like that name.” **That’s it. That is the ENTIRE memory. Nothing happened. Nobody named Dennis traumatized me. 😂 I apparently just stood there, heard the name Dennis, and decided I did NOT like it.

But WHY do I remember that? Think about how many conversations I had as a kid. How many people I met. How many names I heard. How many completely ordinary days came and went that I couldn’t tell you one thing about today. But my brain decided THIS needed permanent storage.

And then, years later… I MARRIED A DENNIS.

Every once in a while, I think about that little girl standing there looking at that house and having that completely random thought. Of ALL the things my brain could have saved from childhood, why that?

Was it coincidence? Was the universe screwing with me? Was 9-year-old me getting some weird little preview of my future? Or was it some kind of voodoo shit that eventually sentenced me to a lifetime with a Dennis? 😂 I have absolutely no idea.

But maybe this is exactly why my blog is called Insignificant Thoughts, because that’s exactly what this was.... One completely insignificant little thought from a little girl standing on her street. It meant absolutely NOTHING at the time. Yet somehow, my brain held onto it for more than 50 years.

And after all these years, I can still picture myself standing there thinking: I don’t like that name.

Apparently, life said…

“You will.”