The World is Ending.

Not really.

But it certainly feels that way today.

There is entirely to much upheaval in my life right now. Construction starts tomorrow on the inside of my apartment, which means for the next 3-4 weeks my home will be invaded daily by a crew of construction workers, city inspectors, and other unknowns. All of my things had to be packed up and put away and my home no longer feels like it is mine.

My medical identity has been stolen and I am unable to make any progress on it until tomorrow which is driving me crazy.

I am also working at our sister facility daily this week, which I am excited about because I get to work with the Boss Lady, but it also means more change to my cherished schedule. This is not such a big deal, and I'm happy to help out. I mention it only because change is change, and I'm sure it's adding to my stress in some way, I'm just unaware of how.

I haven't been sleeping much lately, and the recurrent dream where my mother kills me has returned. I wake up screaming at least once a night, and spend my mornings shaken up over it. Last night in addition to the usual dream, I had a new one where I was trudging waist deep through a swamp trying to catch a rare and elusive fish with a team of scientists. All of a sudden a 25 foot long black snake broke the surface of the water and latched onto my neck. Its upper fangs went in just below my jaw on the left side, and its lower fangs hooked in below my left collar bone. The snake held its bite, but otherwise did not move. I held its body out and away from me walked out of the swamp, covered in blood. The lead scientist kept telling me it was a Teena viper, and I was insistent that he was just screwing with me because Teena vipers don't exist. However, he radioed emergency services who told me Teena vipers did exist, their venom was neurotoxic, and I was well and truly screwed.

He cut the snake in half and removed it from my neck. My central nervous system shut down and I died at the edge of the swamp.

I'm not really sure what to make of that, but it was unpleasant and I hope this is the last time I have to have it.

I don't dream much. Almost never, actually. And when I do it's usually just matter of fact dreams. LittleFoot goes to the grocery store, or LittleFoot does the laundry. Things like that. The exception is the recurrent dream where someone tells me my mother has died and I go to her grave to verify it. Then she shows up and stabs me to death cackling wildly and chanting prayers over me as I bleed out. I believe I have this dream more often than I am aware of as I often wake up crying with no memory of why or what I was dreaming of.

I wish I had never known my mother. That I could just live in an alternate universe where I had only my sweet and loving father to raise me. While I don't give my mother much thought these days, I still hear her voice in my head whispering she hates me when I get stressed out. And I can't seem to banish the dreams, no matter how I try. Such is life I suppose. This too shall pass.

I hope things are better with you, but I feel like you are trudging through the swamps of unending misery with me this week. That is lame. On the bright side, I will be there in just a few short days and we can forget the chaos that has descended upon us. Perhaps kayaking though the Sea of Orcas isn't such a terrible idea after all...don't hold me to that though. A duck pond may in fact, be all that I can handle. :P We'll cross that bridge when we get there.

I miss you dearly Dear Friend. All the Days. Some days, (like today) more than others. Say hi to Phil for me, I'll see you both soon.

All my love.
LittleFoot.