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[scyllacat]

I cleaned a lot of trash out of the house yesterday. I have a lot more to do today. I found trash that is over two years old in the garage. I know because I was here when it happened.

I dreamed about my father this morning. I hate it when that happens. Not because I hate dreaming about my father per se, but because I don't dream about my father, the person, I dream about the body that had to be taken care of. And my father was intelligent and lucid and loving until he died, but in my dreams, he's just a body, a representative husk.

I find myself having conversations in my dreams about how he's been dead since 1991, so I'm not particularly concerned about hism dying now. When I realize this, I always wonder why I don't know it's a dream. I always think, this happened before, yeah, but that was a dream.

I also dreamed I saw Princess Diana, but her back was turned to me.

I woke up suddenly, though, and jumped out of bed.

I'm truly behind on the new year's thing, so I will be back later for that.

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[scyllacat.livejournal.com]

It's such a repetitive dream that I've started to think of it as a good thing, you know, the dead weight of something that I don't need anymore falling off.

A few months after my father died, I had a dream where we were standing out in the snow. I took his hand and said, "You have to come inside, you're sick." He didn't understand. I took him inside and he sat next to my mother, who was crying because he was dead. He put his arm around her, but he didn't understand why she was sad. That's the last time I remember him ever being him in a dream.

Since then, it's not him, just the dead things of the past. I really don't mind him being there, it's all those icky people acting like he's alive.