It is still summer here. Muggy and wet morning, the bugs still drinking in the air, the cicadas still calling out for something that never answers. I dreamt of an old friend, a friend I’m no longer friends with. We were at an art exhibit for a woman I didn’t even know she knew. We were courteous, said hello like no time had passed at all and she reached her hand to touch my shoulder. I felt accepted by her – finally.

I dream of her every so often and I wonder why. A lost love, a lost friendship – it’s always the things we lose that haunt us. I don’t think of her often in daily life – but dream life keeps more secrets, doesn’t it?

The air has yellow light and against the white walls of the room it’s a lemon-cream morning. It looks delicious. i wish I could capture it in my bathtub and be warmed forever.

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