I haven't really had much to write about since the dream incident. I know it's a silly thing to be upset about, but I can't shake the feeling it left me with. It's not something that is easily described. What happened in the dream was something that I wish more than anything could be true, but it never will be. To have the feeling that it was true, if only for a few moments in a dream, and then to wake up "empty handed" was like being deceived by my own mind. I'm not happy about that. In fact, it saddened me more than I'd like to admit.
Oh, fuck it all. I have a test to study for. Nothing is more important than that right now.
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Dreams can be such evil bastards.
Except--sometimes I dream that my mom is still alive and we're just hanging out, shopping or chatting. I love those dreams. For that tiny window of time, it's just like she's here again. Well, it's the closest I'm ever going to get, anyway, so I'll take it.