"6:23 AM" -my alarm clock

I had a very emotional dream today and woke up before my alarm even went off. I didn't get up of course. Instead, I lay there thinking about the dream and committing it to memory. I dream every night. I dream many dreams every night. I dream in color.

I only committed to memory the parts that seemed important to me. I saw Hannah getting ready to cross the street. Hannah is 6 years old. She was all dressed up in a pretty polkodot dress with a pale yellow bow in her hair. She had on one of those ruffled white socks with lace trimming and sandal. It was a small side street but traffic was pretty continous. We were trying to help her cross the street but only verbally. When she finally crossed the street, she was met by my Grandpa. They started playing together and then Hannah turned into a 6 years old me. I remembered how my Grandpa used to play with me when I was little. (This is the first time I've drempt about him since he passed away last August.) We were laughing together. I felt safe and happy.

Then my Mom came by and tapped the adult me watching from across the street on the shoulder. "There's someone at the house." I immediately turned around and started walking with her towards the house because I understood it to mean that this stranger was Caucasian and she needed help communicating with him. As we walked, I kept wondering where the house was. The neighborhood was unfamiliar to me. I figured my Mom knew where she was going. Then I realized that she didn't know where the house was. Because she didn't have a house. "I didn't know that I had died. I'm so sorry," she started crying. "It's ok, Mom. It's ok," I hugged her neck and started weeping too. We cried and cried and cried deeply. "Live well. Live well," she kept telling me.

Then in my dream, I woke up in my house. I was weeping still and groaning. I felt emotionally exhausted.