I don't feel much like a writer this week. I'm sorry about that, loyal readers.
But I'm trying to remain consistent despite my restless spirit, so I will share a dream I had last night (those of you who know me are groaning at those simple words). As I have not hoisted my dreams on anyone in a while, I feel it might be therapeutic. Though...not really.
In this nightmare a community of vampires, led by the Dracula himself, convinced developers to build housing in a valley on their decidedly eerie and remote ancestral/communal land. On the evening of the day the unsuspecting, fresh residents moved into their cute family units, the bloodsuckers swooped in for a feast from the outlying misty hills, flying and descending like the Death eaters in the Harry Potter films. It was revolting.
Somehow, afterwards, it was decided that if my two older sisters and I just went to this inn run by Dracula, and scavenged for a letter Mr. ultimate fiend had written to some of his followers, we could provide his downfall. So we went, and the inn was like a Halloween decoration - tall and narrow structure, gable roof, wrap-around plank porch and too many windows. There was a crowd of dissipated young people hanging about its lawn and porch, but we were game. We went in, and my oldest sister conducted a brazen search of a promising desk.
Then the dream took a turn that truly frightened me, and it had nothing to do with the undead.
I won't tell you what the development was. I don't want to write about it. I'll say only that I made myself wake up. And there was no way I would or could return to sleep.
What troubles me is that I have been having dreams like this for the past few weeks, and I really feel that the accident is to blame. I woke up hyperventilating from one. I make myself wake up each time, early in the morning, because I will not allow the dream to continue its course. Thank God I have that control. I have that control.
They are just dreams. But I'll be glad to be rid of them, and I hope I am very soon.