I don’t really dream. When I sleep, I sleep. Rarely do I dream. I am also not superstitious. That said I have had a few “mystical” experiences in my life. Nothing that can be explained really, just things that happen.  I do not appreciate these things and  I have had  a rush of them lately.

A girl I met, I little girl, who I am certain even now needed, needs help. But what can I do? What? I am a stranger and I know nothing of her, her family , her life. I know nothing except that she was in pain. And here, a week later I still think of her, I worry and hope that someone braver then I has noticed her pain, is giving her the sanctuary she needs.

And then a dream, a dream that comes three, four times a night. A vision? A premonition? An admonition? In my dream I am told in a matter of fact way something (something I don’t care to share) and my whole soul rebels against the very idea, I am awake and tired, exhausted. Two nights of sleeplessness. It is as if I am to be told until I except it, embrace it.

My wakened mind cries out “Bosh!”.

It frightens me none the less.

And then in life, in life, the real daytime moments, I am struggling to make sense of my new home, unpack, leave things the way they are until we get shelves up, wade through a bin of clothes until the dressers are moved. Departing from our traditional school for something basic and off track, but school nonetheless.  Feeling frustrated and impatient.

And muddled.

Halloween and not a costume is complete , I haven’t even begun. I mean to shuffle through the aisles of local shops everytime  I am out, but when I am out I just want to be home, so I look at my list and hurry through, bent on finding what I need.

Apparently routine, structure is more important to me then I knew.

I am tired.

I am washed ashore, on an island of beauty and promise, and I am frightened, clinging to the wreckage of my ship.

Today is a Thursday sort of day.

K~