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burning sun

June 3, 2011
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Despite the heat, I’ve been sleeping like a baby lately. I’m usually a person that can’t hit dreamland unless everything is perfect (I think I’ve discussed this before…perfect darkness, perfect quiet, perfect position, etc.). With the hot weather, our curtains have been left open to let the breeze in, and that means we can hear the people, the traffic, and the noises of life outside our apartment. Miracle of miracles: I slept better with the windows open and the curtains parted than I did with all my “perfect” requirements met. Case in point: last night was too cool to have the windows open, so we were back to the old ways, and I was tossing and turning. Hm. Humans are weird. Maybe it’s just me.

Anyway there was a weird dream last night that I meant to write down, but promptly forgot. I did manage to retain some knowledge of the dream from the night before, which was fraught with darkness and strife.

There was an eclipse, and the sun was bigger than I have ever seen it. Imagine standing in front of your house. Now imagine that the sun is roughly the same size (or at least, you perceive it to be). It was big and burning…somewhat akin to Pumba’s analysis of stars in The Lion King. It was also black, with yellow and orange molten spots, like lava cooling and reheating after it spews from a volcano. I couldn’t make sense of why I could see such vivid details. Flames licked off the tarry surface in a swirling fire cloud. I knew I needed to find someone to tell, someone who could stop it or fix it or just put it out already, but I couldn’t stop staring. Dread crept up in me. I kept fighting the urge to touch it, to grab a glob of liquid rock and chew it like gum, imagining it with the consistency of taffy. Before I got the chance to do anything, I woke up.

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