Some mornings

Mornings are enticing. I am awake very early often times only just to witness them. If I'm tired and sleepy, then I go back to sleep a little after. Today in particular it felt so fresh and beautiful. I had a very enticing dream. I was in a country side, super green, super sheltered place. Several small cozy buildings joined together, pretty old. I am gathered with some of my very special and dear friends on the rooftop of one of them. We are discussing news of the move, as though my whole tribe has only just moved here. I am learning about the residency of the rest of the members. I was told that Elizabeth Gilbert, who apparently is my favorite person / friend in the dream, has bought that small one next to us. I look at where they pointed, and it's a shorter building than ours, tinier and cozier looking. The rooftop is filled with average sized super green trees, all blossoming. I smile at the sight, but really I felt my heart smiling. When I love someone, my whole being smiles at them, or the thought of them, or the idea of their very existing, or ever have existed. Elizabeth Gilbert used to be my most favorite author, I think she still might be, but I haven't been able to read her anymore. I am not able to read much lately anyway. I impulsively bought her latest book City of Girls a while book online, of course it was first edition and hardcover and I didn't pay attention to that, so I couldn't read it. I dislike hardcover books and can hardly read them, I prefer paperbacks, and the smaller, the better. Back to the dream however, it felt like missing of that good old friend, who feels like family more so than a mere friend. The dream carried on with other happenings, as though we were all getting integrated with our new environment and set up. The next day, I wake up and gathering with them again, I learn about the death of Elizabeth, Liz. My heart sank in a well of pain and sorrow instantly. The pain was so shocking and deep it woke me up from the dream. 

My relationship with death is an old one. Long before I last my father when I was 18, I used to imagine scenarios of losing my loved ones, and crying. I remember very clearly that nothing specific used to induce such thoughts. They used to appear out of nowhere, perhaps they are rooted at my early realization of the eventual fatality of our existence. I also recall the early moments when I started to have anxiety around the idea of my loved ones leaving me. These weren't merely thoughts, they used to occur to me as though to alert me of what is to come in the future. 

Cat just slept in my lap as I rocked her while humming as I type, and now I'm feeling sleepy again but I must get ready, I'm actually going out, a proper outing, for the very first time in a good while. 

Death topic will resume time and again for sure.