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.