Scribble #16

It's not snowing just yet, though it is foggy up in the trees and rooftops, and misty in the grass, like a river of vaporous snakes. Birds tweet in the morning, and at midnight sometimes. Winter condensation on the windows isn't always welcome in. Wind howls, and blows fences in. Kid's balls in next door's garden will fly up and land in our own garden.

It is at this moment in time, nearly 1am, that I feel like my life is a complete mess. I am not as organised as I thought, and time keeps shadowing me, mocking me, judging me. At around 3am, all this part of the eclipsed world will change. The air, the land, our realm and the realms of our individual dreams will appear still. And yet - like every time between night and dawn - all will shimmer with magic; a strangeness submerging, with creatures that which neither man nor woman has ever imagined. They may dream of the ghostly fae, but will likely forget them once awoken at daybreak. Those few of us who are fully awake at this wholesome hour, a time between earthly times, and sober and believing, will remember the apparitions once we see them. From the shadows in our living rooms, to out and under the streetlamps, they can move anywhere. Us lucky ones might either go insane, or be snatched away by the creatures; taken to the realm of the unreal, the unknown. Or we might merely keep the feelings and sightings to ourselves. For who among us who have not seen such unnatural phenomena would believe?

13. The unlucky, Gothic, glorious, lonely, misunderstood number. My dreams are cluttered, confused. I dreamt of missing a lot of thing. Missing time, everything. I am a mess, and will anyone miss me? Am I unimportant? A waste of hopes and dreams? And money?

I hate nuts, and seeds, especially when they are put into things where they shouldn't belong, like fermented bread. Whenever I have to have a seed bread sandwich for luncheon, I slice it, toast it, then slather it with dollops of butter and cheese so as to hide the sight, smell and taste of the fiddly seedlings. This kind of defeats the purpose of them, but at meal times who cares? I confidently don't. I also hate the bits left in fruit drinks. Like, it's a drink; nothing should get jammed in your teeth!