Not true, Cinderella

Last night I had three nasty dreams.

One was that I was dying.

I woke up from that at 1am and fell back asleep to dream that Courtney and I were being attacked by a giant cockroach, with large pincers. It sounds funny, but it was not.

Finally, I dreamed my dad died. In my dream, I thought I was doing okay, until I heard this song and remembered him playing it in our living room on his guitar, and then I crumbled to the floor in tears.

That's when I woke up.

Sometimes I hate dreams.

If you described them to anyone in different terms, they would think you were describing some sort of horror sci-fi movie.

"And then you fall into this trance where you can't consciously control what pictures and images you see, and no matter how much will you might have, you can't stop them from coming."

That sounds GREAT.

And I hate when dreams leave this reside all over you the next day. I'm still trying to shake the awful feeling that my dad is gone.

So I texted him this morning.

me: What doin?
dad: I just sat down to read my bibles.
me: All of it?
dad: ru meaning from Gamiso to Ramilations?

Then I felt a little better.

But not 100%.