Insomniac

I can't sleep. It's four o'clock in the morning and I haven't gone to sleep yet. I tried, but it didn't work. This is the fourth night that i haven't been able to sleep in a row.

It wouldn't be a problem except I end up sleeping til noon, and getting nothing done during the day when you can do stuff. And, Mister is sleeping like a rock, which means that as soon as my weary eyes finally let the lids escort me to dreamland, he will be up and at em' and ready to drive me to crazy land.

Speaking of dream time, I've been having an unusual amount of extremely vivid and strange dreams, one of them in particular I don't want to forget.

Mama Sonia, my grandmother who died two and a half weeks ago, was in my dreams. The first was more of an image of her. She had this HUGE bouffant hairdo, and it was bright blue and had fluttering wings coming out of it. If you knew my grandmother, you would know that this sort of look is quite unlike her. She was the perfect picture of elegance and good taste, always dressed, coiffed, and made up impeccably. But she also loved art. And not just any old painting by joe shmoe painter down the street. She knew good art, and loved it. We would talk forever about different artists and what we did and didn't like about their work, why we thought it appealed to people, what could have inspired the piece. One of our very favorite things to do together was to go to art shows and museums. She was a very cultured woman, and she loved beauty. At her funeral, it occurred to me that that was something I would like to take of her with me for the rest of my journey, her love of beauty. And even though her person here on earth wouldn't be caught dead in public without makeup and jewelry, let alone a blue bouffant with wings, her spirit inspires and compels me to pursue my own vision of what beauty is.

In the next dream, she had gotten up out of bed, and was getting ready by herself, standing. Her last few months here were colored by her inability to get out of bed by herself, so seeing her like this surprised me. I said to her how well she looked, and she sort of dismissed my surprise and said that she wanted to go out and walk in the garden. We went out and the garden was beautiful. It wasn't big, but it was well-cared for and housed all sorts of wonderful plants and flowers. The house was two stories, and the garden was walled. And we walked and looked and smelled and it was all very peaceful.

Beauty. Art. Music. Food. Family. These are the things that Mama Sonia cared about. These are the things that made her happy. These are the things that make me happy. And my memories of sharing these things with her make me feel that she's not actually gone, because my taste and choices are painted with her touch.

I have so much more to say about this, but it's going to take some time. I think I'd rather just let it come as it needs to. I'm not good at forcing things....

like sleep, for instance.