i dreamed traveling on a globe that shifted under my feet to deposit my hovering body in the new location; of half a dozen small dogs emerging from the surf of the indoor ocean, pugs and cavaliers each with a small gray egg purse to bury in the protection of the palms. when the tide hits the leathery pouches they explode in a froth of dog-eggs.
dogs feature in almost all my dreams now, most commonly a little black pit bull who smiles at me, her face swimming with iridescence. in real life it is snow-land again, pretty tragic only because it gives me the feeling of being on repeat, like i just tumbled from the sun-kissed lip down into the pit again, a little bit sisyphus. i am not afraid so much of the task as i am of its effect upon my character; the largest thing being that this winter makes me so raw, and in forcing myself to be calm for all the work rush and anxiety it oozes out sideways (the anxiety) and coats every other thing i do. this makes me in the world feel like everyone is talking about me, whispering behind hands, eyes low and looking, speaking "awful awful awful." in seeking reassurance i damn myself.