And I am dreaming in blood-red color

[sovay]

This morning I had nightmares so bad I had to look at my cellphone to see whether they'd happened. If it was Saturday, they hadn't; if it was Sunday, they had. It was Saturday, so I fell back asleep and dreamed I had tickets to a production of Julius Caesar that was about two-thirds the one Harriet Walter is currently starring in, but the events of the first nightmare had still happened. I am waiting for e-mails and worried about technology. I am sleeping hours less than I have since before Florida and dreaming badly when I do.

I need to write something.

Comments

[ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

I'm glad it was Saturday. Sorry for the nightmares, especially the continuation.

I hope that e-mails will come and that technology will not betray you, not this time. I'm sorry for your lack of sleep and terrible dreams.

I dreamt of being stuck on a balcony of something like a cathedral, with no easy way down. The cathedral was supported by an elaborate wooden structure, which at one moment looked like vast library shelves and at another like a series of honeycomb-shaped lattices. I'm not sure how I got down--I was thinking out how I'd do it with a rope, but it would've been chancy and I don't think I had the rope. But somehow I did, and then I found myself in a kitchen, watching a cartoon that was in some unspecified manner a parody of the situation I'd been in. A man was drifting down through the sky, too slowly to be falling in our gravity, with occasional help from birds and creatures that looked like some sort of dinosaur (generic quadrupeds in variants of orange and green, cartoonish, friendly-looking) but which somehow managed to fly. Every so often he'd lightly kiss one of the dinosaurs on the beak or the forehead.

I had the feeling that it had been made by small-o orthodox artists as a mocking commentary on a story told of some non-canonical saint, possibly a Saint Blacke or Blaque. I read a page of commentary about the matter, in small print in a hardbacked book, much the size of one of those little eighteenth century volumes, although the paper, typeface, and layout looked more like something from the late nineteenth or early twentieth centuries. On waking I couldn't remember anything significant of what I read.

I need to write something.

Sometimes that's the best thing. I hope you'll be able to.

[sovay]

A man was drifting down through the sky, too slowly to be falling in our gravity, with occasional help from birds and creatures that looked like some sort of dinosaur (generic quadrupeds in variants of orange and green, cartoonish, friendly-looking) but which somehow managed to fly. Every so often he'd lightly kiss one of the dinosaurs on the beak or the forehead.

I like that a lot.