Hanging On

I am exhausted and finding it difficult to complete all my stated daily goals. Once this post is published, I’ll just have Manhunt left on my list. But I’m partly too excited (Key West tomorrow!) and finding it too hard to stay awake. I haven’t even packed, but it’s just a three day trip, nothing major. I don’t go crazy like some people with five different outfits per day.

The only thing I really feel compelled to write about are the dreams I had Tuesday night. I didn’t mention them here on my blog, but I sent my friends on discord a brief summary right when I woke up. The weirdest one involved my dead aunt.

She was alive in my dream, and someone shot her in the head. I don’t remember seeing it, but I was right there when it was taking place in the dream. I don’t remember seeing my aunt really, not at all, not once in the dream. What I remember seeing is a book.

So my dead aunt/book in my dream, who was shot in the head, is lying on the ground. She’s a book, mind you, but there’s blood. Then my grandmother is there (who is also dead and died shortly after my aunt did in real life), and she’s wailing uncontrollably. I get the distinct feeling I’m glad my aunt is dead, but I know I didn’t kill her.

My uncle (aunt’s brother, my grandmother’s son) shows up and I make the decision to move “the body” because an ambulance hasn’t come. All of a sudden, there’s another book. This time, it’s a family Bible, and for whatever reason, I want to place my dead aunt/book on the family Bible. It’s almost as though it’s a coffin for her.

My uncle looks on uncomfortably. The bloody carcass of the book/my aunt is wet, and the family Bible’s pages are very thin and crinkly. The blood soaks it almost instantly. I get the feeling my uncle wants me to put her back. He says no, but I know he would have rather me just not move her in the first place.

I wake up.

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