Good morning, Mary. It's 10:10 and I'm at home. So happy to be home. Home with Love and Uraeus. I slept so well. I knew that I would. That long drive has a way of setting up a good zone out for me when I get home.
I had several dreams last night. I remember bits and pieces of a few. The one that stands out the most is a dream where I saw a woman's dead body lying on the dark night street next to a dumpster. The body was under a white sheet but I could see her big black Afro coming out of the sheet and the rise of her breasts. For some reason I wasn't afraid when I saw it. I just stood there alone and stared at the body. Isn't that awful? Isn't it awful that a woman's body was lying under a sheet next to a dumpster? Who covered her up? Why was she there? Isn't it awful of me not to be afraid? Instead of fear I only had questions. I wondered about her life. If she was killed or just had some accident in an alley. That's right, it was in an alley. What a horrible place to conclude one's life. For a really quick moment I wondered if I was the woman. You know, like in the movie Ghost when the recently dead guys didn't know that they were dead and they just stood there watching their bodies? Maybe you don't know about movies. Mary, why would I think that was me? Even for a moment why would my imagination even go there? That woman didn't even look anything like me. I blame you though, really. I mean, if you would just come to me in my dreams and answer all of the questions I have, I wouldn't have had such a horrible thought. Please know that I am only (slightly) kidding.
Anyway, how was your night? Do you have nights?
As much as I would love to spend an hour or so writing to you today, I can't. It's the weekend and I have so much to do. I haven't even gotten out of bed yet to begin any tasks. I will take moments here and there to jot down notes to you. Perhaps we will have more time in the middle of the night. That's my favorite time to write anyway.
Again, good morning, Mary.