Anxious night

Photo courtesy of bitterlawngnome


Last night bitterlawngnome and danthered helped mark Brenna's upcoming birthday with lemon poppy seed cake and candles. My gifts to her included a book on drawing cartoon animals, and a set of pliers for beading.

She had to go home afterward. Leaving her felt unusually sad. Brenna seems lonely, but doesn't articulate things as readily as Marian.

I'm getting sick of driving in this windy autumn weather. Last night was the worst. I saw two minor accidents and a portable toilet blown into the road. By the time I returned to Guelph after midnight it had died down, but head and knuckles were aching.

I was coming down with a cold.

I had a lucid dream about riding a streetcar past a Chinese temple with cryptic lettering sliding down the walls like digital images in The Matrix, but primary colours on a vitreous white background. We passed a gate; I pointed and declared in a booming, prophetic voice, "The Door." Brenna, standing on sidewalk before the wall, seized a stake out of the pavement and started running ahead of the streetcar like a messenger in ancient times, her footfalls resonating in my head. These images related to Tendril's story somehow.