**I've made some progress on my current cross-stitch (and I've done a lot more since I took this picture), so here it is. Here's me rambling too. I'm having a bad night, and sometimes I need to get it off my chest.**
It's one of those nights where I would do anything to fend off sleep. Since I got sick I have a lot of nightmares. Some are weird, like nightmares about my plants dying; some are familiar, like the horrible driving dreams that I've had since I was nine or ten. I dream the brakes don't really work, that the gas and break pedal shift back and forth, that I'm driving from the back seat and can't see, that something serious happens and I don't notice compounding the problem. It's part of why I really didn't want to learn to drive in high school.
Then there are nightmares about my family. Last night I dreamed my dad got a really bad concussion, woke up scared and sweating. Add to it that I've had a number of prophetic dreams. I know that sounds crazy and new agey or whatever, but it's true. I've dreamed about people before I've met them, I've dreamed conversations that happen almost word for word, I dreamed the plot of the last Harry Potter book (that was creepy). So when I dream about my family being injured or dying it worries me.
I dream about a girl I love so much it breaks my heart. I miss her more than I can say and I still dream about her a few times a week. It is painful and sometimes beautiful and generally heartbreaking. I write letters I can't send her, impossible dreams make it seem so easy but I feel my back up against a brick wall.
I'm rambling. It's one of those nights. One of those days really. I woke up early expecting to see my mother but she had her own plans. I'm bad with changing plans, so I rattled around my apartment, did a good bit of stitching, but felt restless and empty and unable to settle back into 'work.' So I reread some old books, silly cheap fiction, only I remembered that the first time I'd read this book was on a bus going to see that perfect girl. "The Only Girl in the World" in the fashion of Sherlock Holmes and Poirot, the best match for me but out of reach forever. It always comes back to that.
When I get my time machine I'm going back to being three years old. That picture was a good Easter. Plus I was adorable.