Early in the morning, I dreamed of having to stop a dragon sacrifice; it was a white dragon and related to the Matter of Britain, but not in the fashion of Merlin's dream. In the last dream I can remember before I got up, I was in a shell-hole waiting for a direct hit. I can see how this image evolved out of both recent media and current events, but it feels a little unnecessarily on the nose. I am intrigued that my brain cast me as a combat medic when I spent so much of the weekend trying to get hold of doctors; maybe it just thinks it would be more efficient. The substance of the last few days is that I am not in good shape and it is not fun.
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Active Entries
- 1: If I'm hoping, then I'm hoping for the frost
- 2: There's nothing here but echoes
- 3: There's no boat to take me where all the stars go to cross the water
- 4: Once you know it's a dream, it can't hurt
- 5: All the ghosts, some old, some new
- 6: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 7: Let the lights run like rivers all over my skin
- 8: I am bound to these shores, I'll be bound till the end
- 9: Wish everyone could hear when she sings
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