January 4, 2016

January 4th

I woke up from my sleep in the middle of the night reaching for something. I was leaning on the end of my bed with my left arm extended out, reaching out for.. something. It was quite daunting and quite frankly intriguing that I was directing my reach towards Grandma's healing bead hanging on my wall. Was she with me in that moment? Was I with her in my dream?

I drank NyQuil before sleep, maybe I hallucinated? Maybe I was in deep REM or maybe it was the fact I went to bed at 8:30pm. In any case, I miss grandma. I miss her a lot. The kindness of her voice, her funny demeanor, her adorable cackle. I miss her blue eyes and her sweet smile. I hope I was talking with her in my dreams.

Ray Lamontagne is a tortured soul. I wonder what he's been through. I wonder what his childhood journal looked like.

Oh the winter blues, they shimmer in the bleached white snow.. the innocence of the new, fresh year. They give me all sorts of vulnerable feels. Some sweet, crisp and vulnerable blues they are.

I can go unseen. Like a white bird in a blizzard.