"Miss Martha, you are so weird!" "I know . . . isn't it wonderful!?"

vividly me

My dreams last night were so fresh.  So bright.  So vivid.  So real.  Too real.  My mother’s roof collapsed down upon her house, and my things, and I had to take pictures for insurance, but the stars were storming through the holes, and I couldn’t not laugh.  It was like poetry, swirling around me, the wind whipping my hair and my clothes, and I laid back, and laughed at the dark sky.


And I was on vacation . . . in a hotel, a resort.  Lost.  I couldn’t find K but J was there.  Too there.  Perhaps because I friended him on Facebook?  Why?  I don’t know.  He messaged me first.  Would it be rude to *not*?  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?


Anyway, I digress.  I was with him, but not.  But still . . . I can smell him.  Still.  His voice in the dream was his voice in life.


And C came to work, and T and I talked around him, then suddenly, “Oh!  You’re here!  How are you?”  And everyone laughed.  And laughed.


And to get the pictures of my mother’s falling home, I had to take pictures from my childhood window at night, opening the glass and the screen, so I could take the pictures, which were all upside down.  With the window open, a big dog got in, and I welcomed it, and it dove into my blankets upon blankets upon blankets, and licked me and licked me.  And it was cool, the air coming in the window.  And it was peaceful, eventhough I had to capture the devastation.


And Tom was there, to see if he could fix my mom’s roof . . . but the ladder to the attic was gone with the storm, and the trees, that you could see falling into the house when you were outside, were not there once you went in.  But we got to the attic, anyway.  With a small flashlight, but the gaping holes in the too big roof were so obvious, then the entire roof was gone, but the chimney stack was there, and there was a woman, with long white hair and a blue shirt, calling the stars and the wind.


And it swirled.


And I laughed.




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