Where are you, my mother-o, longing to go?
My poem "The Same Fur Coat" is now online at Strange Horizons. It was written earlier this year on the occasion of ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
selkie's birthday. The issue in which it's embedded fits together beautifully.
Today is the occasion of my brother's birthday, who is celebrating with his immediate family, I hope most enjoyably.
The construction returned much earlier than we had thought was legal, vibrating the bed and the walls with an ear-battering bass noise like being trapped inside a titanic drill. I believe the rain drove it off eventually, but no one slept until then, including Hestia. I dreamed of writing about Alan Turing at Bletchley, which I resent not having to hand when I woke up.
selkie's birthday. The issue in which it's embedded fits together beautifully.Today is the occasion of my brother's birthday, who is celebrating with his immediate family, I hope most enjoyably.
The construction returned much earlier than we had thought was legal, vibrating the bed and the walls with an ear-battering bass noise like being trapped inside a titanic drill. I believe the rain drove it off eventually, but no one slept until then, including Hestia. I dreamed of writing about Alan Turing at Bletchley, which I resent not having to hand when I woke up.
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One of the most beautiful and cruel categories of dream is when one makes or acquires something nifty only to not have it when awake.
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I think the majority of my dreams are like that.