carpet cleaner.

I've been compelled to write about my dreams lately, because I've been dreaming strange things. My dreams have been coming out of my head and onto my laptop keyboard in the form of poetry, though not so fluidly as I would like. I've become impatient with the poetry and resorted to unfinished works--trying to keep the details in my head. Here's where I feel that my poetry is suffering slightly as a result of all the fiction I've been trying to write for class. Don't get me wrong, I'm learning things through fiction about writing and about life that seem really important. I'm only finding other, perhaps minor (and perhaps even unrelated) consequences to my other writings.

I suppose I could insert here some of the bits of poetry that I've written; but, as I said, the stories there are incomplete.

This morning, my last dream before waking was complex in that it seemed both a reconciliation and a parting from my former roommate and best friend. I can call her a former best friend on here, I can admit it to myself that that's what we were, because I'm moving on. In the dream, she came back to this apartment and entered. I wanted to close my door to her, but she didn't ask to come in. She came when I wasn't even home and when I found her, she told me that she had come to say goodbye. Sadly, the details are fading from my memory. I know only that, in terms of emotion and conversation, we weren't hostile. We weren't tense with each other. As friends and sisters, we began wrestling and laughing together. There was little memory and no mention of our dissolve. For the moments before she said goodbye and I awoke, the two of us were pinning each other to the ground in play.

Maybe that's resolve afterall.