I had trouble sleeping last night. Morpheus beckoned early enough, and I eagerly moved towards his welcoming arms. But within moments of my head sinking within my pillow's alban depths, I was stuck with discomfort. An itch arise at my ankles, my wrists, my back, my neck, my belly. I checked my sheets. Nothing. Neither sight nor texture within to arouse such feelings. And yet now, I could not sleep. This lasted for hours. I had crept into bed at 10 PM. It was not until 1 AM that it finally hit me. My skin was dry. I needed lotion! And so, after the soothing balm of cocoa butter eased my epidermal prickles and stabs, I coasted eagerly into the Dreaming… ignoring the muffled arguments of my next door neighbors. But it must have sunk into my subconscious. For I dreamed that in their rage, they set our triplex alight. In my dream, my smoke alarm awoke me and I rushed out, grabbing Eli, his food, my backpack, and my ukulele, since all of the above are close together and easy to retrieve in a mad dash to safety. In my dream, I I put Eli in my car and say with him as I called the Fire Dept. We waited for their arrival and I wondered how the quarantine would change my ability to find shelter. And then I awoke for real to the sound of my alarm. I struggled with getting out of bed. Is this how most people feel in the morning? I don't like it. It took a long time to shower and dress and get ready for my "commute" aka my morning walk. I saw that the sky was overcast. No glorious sunrise today. But as I left, far later than I would have preferred, I saw rays of light in a celestial fanfare through the clouds. It is not the sunrise. But it is a new day. And my cat is okay. And I am okay. And I will get through it. #anothernewday https://www.instagram.com/p/B-hPMTFjXKh/?igshid=1jubf23r7576n
