Good Sunday morning. It's 10:29 and I am at home. I'm awake but in bed. Reading and writing and eating. Awful. It's nice and chilly outside of these covers just like I like it. Today will be another thick leggings, sweater and boots day. My favorite.
I had a weird long long dream last night, Mary. Were you there? I was walking and talking with someone. Was that you? That's what my dreams have been lately. Me talking to some person I never see. It's easier and more fun when I think it's you. But last night, even in my dream I thought it was you. I remember telling myself to remember everything to write it down in my letters to you when I got up. I remember that. Who says that to themselves in their dreams? I do I suppose.
The dream was in black and white, I remember that clearly. Grainy black and white like old sit ins photos. I was walking along with invisible person (let's call her, you) and we kept seeing scenes from today as if they were back in the 60's. You kept telling me how black people were going to be slaves again and how hard it was going to be. I saw all of these black sad faces working in regular jobs but in black and white film. They looked as if they were working in fields. I remember newspapers. I don't know what was written on them but it was bad news. I could feel it. As we were walking we went into a theatre and it was black and white in there too. We stood along the isle and watched the performers. They were poets. You told me that the poet's writing was going to get better because there was so much to write about. The only things they were talking about was heaviness and grief. It was a scary, sad dream. I was afraid in the dream. Afraid for my son. For our children. For black people. For the world. What was this dream? I went straight to bed. I didn't even watch Law and Order or Criminal Minds like I usually do before I went to bed. And then that dream?
Last night felt like I was in my own version of...of...what's that show when the three ghosts appear to the guy and show him his past, present and future? What's the name of that story that's right on the tip of my tongue? Sheesh! Well, I felt like I was in that story. You know the one.
I need to get out of this bed now and get to work on this painting. It's pretty large and I think I'm hesitating because it's cold and I need to work on it in the cold garage. Ouch. But, praise the Lord.
I have another birthday party to attend today and then I'm performing tonight in Riverside. If I could only move Riverside much closer to my home, that would be great. But no. I can't. It's 10:51 and I seriously need to jump out of this bed into the chilly air and get going.
Also on my mind, Mary, I was invited to submit some of my work to an anthology. It's going to be words from women to women on living and safety. I'll tell you more later. I love it though. Give me ideas if you have any. I'm sure you do.