This is a merge of my 'Wanderer' blog that tells of two years of my three years on the streets, and a new blog that tells of my life after the Diocese of Winchester ripped through my life for for the last few years on top of the previous serious harm that left me homeless
This is a day to day blog of my life as I continue to survive, work on recovery and on the social problems that I have and try to come to terms with limitless traumas I have survived along the way.
This blog is in tandem with my blog about my experiences in the Church of England

The former name of this blog and the name of it's sister blog are to do with my sense of humour, which I hope to keep to the end, which appears to be ever more rapidly approaching. At least I laughed, and I laughed at the people who were destroying me. Don't forget that.

Here are my books, which I wrote for you if you would like to know more:

Saturday, 13 September 2014

Saturday Morning

Good morning,

I went to bed very early, so unnaturally tired, I was asleep at once but only slept lightly and woke sometimes.
I dreamed a lot.
Dreamed of Hampshire, dreamed of Sussex, dreamed of a baby in a pushchair, christmas shopping, a bus station, and some ladies trying to find the bus to Thorpe Gallery, wherever that is.

But the saddest dream was, I dreamed about my Dad. I dreamed he was alive and he and I were playing chess, like we used to.
He was trying to tell me something, he said he knew my path while he didn't know the paths of the other children. I didn't know what he meant, but I knew he was dead, even as we sat there playing chess, and I told him my grief was overwhelming.

I woke this morning, wide awake, 8am, which shows that while I am tired, I am still in remission.
The street is quiet at the weekend and the sun was shining quiet and peaceful, but I felt lazy, so I lazed about a bit and made tea and toast and checked the internet, there is loads of religion and Godstuff on twitter this morning :)

I nearly forgot, during the night I also dreamed about the Scottish Independence Vote, which in waking life does not affect me nor do I really understand it, but in my dream I was screaming with utter conviction about the Independence Vote, to a massive circus camp.

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