I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.
The flat is filling up. I’m a little worried that we’ll be mistaken for hoarders. Which is to say that I may be bounded in a nutshell. And, more practically, we’ll probably need to move to a bigger place in the next six months. Hurrah for soon having a guest room.
I couldn’t say whether the clutter is to blame, but I’ve been having particularly vivid dreams the past few nights. For one thing, my Grandmother (who died about two years ago) has been turning up in a lot of them. That’s been nice, though I’m always sad when I wake up and remember that she’s not around any more. She was a fantastic woman. I miss her a lot.
There have been more disturbing dreams as well. Two nights ago, I dreamt that Andrew died. He needed some sort of operation that required temporarily stopping his heart, and they couldn’t get his heart started again afterwards. In the dream I was crying so hard that I was sick, and the retching motion woke me up. I had trouble sleeping after that. Possibly more bizarre, I had a dream last night that I was accused of some sort of terrorism and nothing I said could convince people that I wasn’t guilty…even though I wasn’t guilty. That was worrying, too. Fortunately, in both cases I woke up enough to know they were just dreams.
Finally, and on a totally different note: the new Beyonce video is mesmerising.
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