• I write down all of the dreams I can remember. Sometimes, I wake in the middle of the night to write them–those are the best. Misspelled words, rough drawings, and incomplete sentences, yet totally raw and full of emotion. Sometimes, my dreams seem pretty meaningless or mundane. But as I examine them and dig into the representations my subconscious makes, I’m left speechless and stunned. Yes. Me. Without words. That’s what happened with my dream last night. I don’t know if I’ll share or not.
  • I’m waiting for the results of my blood tests. I could have either thyroid disease or diabetes. Or neither. I’ll find out sometime today.
  • Chuck is sleeping on my pile of clean clothes. Damn dog. Damn laundry that never ends.
  • I’m in a “get rid of” mood. I want to scour my house for unnessary items and get rid of them.
  • I’m was so totally angry in my dream last night and I have dream hangover. I still feel angry.

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