I woke up with this line from a song in my head after a night of beautiful dreaming. The sun was shining early in my office, the glare of it off of my office door reflected right on to my bed. I woke up joyous with the residue of being loved well by ghosts. Last night's dreams were good for the first time in weeks. I was alive and moving in good circles, familiar haunts with people I want to love better and soon.
Drinks with the lovely Bassemah last night and hilarious unsolicited advice that isn't relevant to want I want in life, but the smiles were good and worth the silliness. I forget I am a social creature and lock myself away too often. I sit here with this lovely machine and isolate myself from the night air and the potential for great conversations. Bassemah wants to write more too. We shall.
Going to give up a little on some dreams of travel. I'm not saving money with the economy as it is. Letting go of the idea of leaving is a little funeral in my heart but sometimes it is better to move on. Moving on. The dream will come again, they always do.
Ballade at Thirty-Five