I dreamed, last night, that I was bleeding out something that looked like creamy tomato soup. In my dream, Jim wrapped his arms around me and said: "Maybe we tried again too soon. This doesn't mean that, later, we can't..."
"No," I interrupted. "I can't do this anymore. I'm done." And it was all so real: in my dream, I was thinking crazy thoughts like I do in real life. I thought, first: I've been feeling unconfident because somehow I knew this was coming.
I promise: all of this makes me sound more distressed than I actually am, which is only slightly, also significantly less than last week.
I'm not sharing because I want to worry anyone, but because I was thinking, today: it's a gift not to know what the future holds. Not knowing should enable me to live in
the moment...not in anticipation or dread. I lose time when I choose to
place more importance on a day other than today.
When I was a little girl, someone told me that--if I were to count all the cars on a train as it passed by--I would
learn the number of years left in my life. Even thirty years ago, the
thought creeped me out.
I need to remember who I am, and I'm not a car counter.