I dreamt my mom died. In reality, she didn't die, but she, my brother, and my stepdad are moving to Oregon by the end of July. They finally sold their house, as of about three days ago.

In the dream, I was crying at her funeral, saying, "I've tried to block out how sad her death made me, but now that it's time to bury her, it's all hitting me at once." Hopefully that moment won't happen when the moving vans are pulling away. The awareness this dream brought me should help prevent that, I guess.

I've been having a lot more significant dreams since I started reading "Women Who Run with Wolves," the book on sacred femininity I was talking about. I need to make a log of all of them, before I forget.

I've been painting up a storm -- if I can ever find my camera cord, I'll be sure to take pictures and show you all.

Kinda bleh. I was considering going out tonight, since it's Saturday, but I caught the headcold that's going around at work, and I *did* just stock up on about eight of my all-time favorite movies, so I might call it a quiet evening after I get off from work.

Kyle might move here. AHHHH! That kind of throws a monkey wrench in my plans to escape to Europe for three months next summer, but then again, maybe it doesn't.

I need to write massively in here, but I just haven't been able to find the time lately. My hope is that that will change soon.