Another day, another yelling-at-my-ex dream, although this one was combined with "late for a plane" which doesn’t improve the bouquet at all. I’m sure it’s just con anxiety dreams hitting like a ton of bricks–I started having them even in Arizona–but knowing the likely source doesn’t help much.
Blargh, sez I.
In happier news, there are lots of little birds bopping around outside, and I think I’m ready for at least the general art show at FC. (Still need to do some adult stuff, but the general is the important bit.) So that’s good, and significantly ahead of schedule. Ordered backing boards and bags for the show, which is also good. Everything’s actually set up with the con, just need to get ahold of the person I’m shipping my kit to and set up all the details of mailing, which means I probably don’t even need to be having the anxiety dreams, but they’re not exactly a product of the rational mind.
Blargh, blargh, blargh.
Hard to shake off the last fragments of dream. They sort of stick around your brain like shreds of damp plastic film. Tea doesn’t seem to be cutting it at the moment. Maybe I need to go outside in the cold and break the ice on the birdbath. (Actually, I need to do that anyway…)