The darn dog woke me up from a sound sleep. He decided he needed to go out back for a piddle or two. When he came in again, he decided that he was hungry, so I had to feed him something until he was satisfied and went to sleep. By that time I was wide awake and not ready to go back to bed, as I never am under these circumstances.
I made myself a cup of heated up coffee and made the best of it. I'm going to have to make some real coffee next, though, because this stuff is undrinkable and I'm worthy of better. It will do to get the first cobwebs out, but it's no good for my enjoyment. And my enjoyment comes first after Tyke has been settled down.
I was sleeping very nicely under the good smelling sheets. They had still not lost their good scent from having been dried outside. I was having a dream that I remembered fleetingly when I woke up, but that totally has escaped me now.
I've been having very interesting dreams lately and my body mimics the actions I perform in my dreams. I wake up that way. If I dream I hold a paintbrush, I wake up with my fingers positioned that way.
I dream that I travel all over the world, to the very edge of it, at the danger of falling off. I go to Tierra del Fuego and it's barren there and unwelcome. All the natives have been decimated. Hardly anyone lives there.
I go to places that don't exist, that are on the edge of an imaginary map, like Columbus did. They're dangerous and hostile places with only a single airfield and not much else. The ground is about to break up and we are going to fall through it. You have to walk lightly there.
It's probably a reflection of the insecurity I feel every day about being in this place. I never quite feel safe and at home. There's always this undercurrent of hostility I feel. I'm a stranger in a strange land.
I've made myself a fresh pot of coffee and very nice it tastes too. You wouldn't believe the difference between it and the old heated up coffee. Or maybe you would. It's so nice to treat yourself decently, especially in the middle of the night when it really counts. When you are having your best hours.
I still like being enveloped by the darkness that is the night and many times I don't wish for it to end. But that is mainly because I don't want the day to start with all of its obligations. The inevitability of having to see people and having to perform chores can seem oppressive. Actually, when I do these things during the day, they never turn out to be as bad as I imagined them to be, but there's always a level of discomfort and a relief when they're all done and gone.
I have a growing dissatisfaction with my personal helper. I think she is too negative and not such a good influence on me and I feel very often that I determine the fate and outcome of our meetings instead of her. I don't quite feel that I can rely on her to make the best decisions. I feel very much that I have to take the lead into my own hands and know best myself. She's not much of a help anymore. As a matter of fact, she can be a hinder.
Not everybody in the world has equal amounts of common sense, not even when they have the diplomas to go with it. You do have to take care who you put your trust in. I have to be my own sage. My own wise woman. Foolish people abound. Not everybody who tries to do you a service actually does.
I will go back to bed eventually and determine in the morning what I'm going to wear. It's not going to be a very warm day. It's only going to be 58F and rainy. I think I've got just the outfit that's good for that kind of weather. I must be comfortable at all costs. I've got just the pair of pants for that.
Have a nice morning or a nice evening, which ever timezone you're in.
Ciao,
Nora
