  Dreams again. This time the dreams are about my mother dying and my being...almost apathetic. I couldn't cry, and no one could believe it, but all went on through the day knowing that my mother was dead.
Even as my mother pulled up to take me "somewhere", she was dead. "Mom, you're dead. " "I know. Get in. " She drove me to a great house, and it was there that this great, black monster, the apex of my fears, began to chant out the very thing that has haunted me since the dreams began, a song of defeat, it tells me in the simplest of terms what I fear the most, and unfortunately for me, the simplicity strikes me at some odd level and I am moved by it, stricken by it.
I don't know why but I cannot say much about this dream. At the time I was under the influence of an antihistamine, that wonderful pink pill called Claritin, and I expected no dreams; however, this dream was one of the most clear I have had since they began. At first I woke and truly thought my mother was dead, that is until she opened the door, and I remembered that dead people don't wake you up when you sleep past your alarm, rather: she would probably eat me alive.
But something in my mind took the great ideas for the oration I had planned for this BLog and most of the minute details of the dream and tossed them to abyssia, where I have forgotten all that was important that I should have said here. Look outside, the sun is gone again. Another long gray and my soul is suffused with the black'd rain. 
