Rock Bottom

I've been sitting in it, picking away at the nuggets for a while. Of course, I look shiny and happy, people, on the outside.

Or I did.

And then I decided, as my jaw locked for the umpteenth time, "I don't have to grin and bear it."

Nor do I have to do either of those singularly.

My life doesn't look like what it was meant to, and I wonder how I got myself into such a mess.

I'm currently "getting through" days. I'm taking it slow. I refuse to rush anything. (My life tends to revolve around how much I can cram into a day and at what velocity.)

Not now.

All of this hit at once (Good morning, Monday) and I let the self-hatred flow like wine at a bacchanal. And the minute I did that, a distant friend wrote me...

I had a dream, a whopper of a dream, last night.

You and I were together at some sort of prep school campus, on warm afternoons and evenings, or it may have been your family's lushly manicured estate. We were hanging out, and I had the sense that we'd been hanging out all summer, lazily, playing lawn games and reading poolside. Your brother, JB, was there a lot, too. Well, it was fun and it became flirtatious, gradually, and we were falling in love, big time. We didn't even kiss in the dream, but we were tilting joyously closer, each time we did something. We teased and chased and hugged. And JB was psyched about it!

Then I woke up. And I felt so happy.

Strange under any circumstances. Given that we've never actually met, quite strange. Queer.

What?

Just. Plain. Nice.

As if the universe, through DF, offered me a wee blanket to take the chill off while I chip away at my jagged, geological growths...to mine and mind what I need for the rest of my journey.

Sometimes nice is the most important thing ever.