My brain isn't really in a blogging place these days. Work is busy (today I've been trying to work with dimensions in inches, and saying the word "fricking" in my head a lot), the morning sun is reducing my sleep, THE WEDDINGS loom always on my horizon with threats of things I should do, and I know my hormones are starting to work against me. Everything is off balance. I'm waiting to return to my normal state of complaisance, when happy bizarre blogging will resume.
Into this vulnerable state have come two weird dreams two nights in a row. They were weird in the way dreams always are weird—strange familiar unreal places and people and trouble and searching and birds. But both dreams also had the same intense emotional high, a feeling of comfort and security. So now my real world emotions feel flat in comparison, and I wish I could have that safe loved hyper-feeling again. It's hard enough doing this single woman in the city thing without dream sabotage. So I: a) prayed about it and b) wore track-pants to work.
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