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Reaching

Showing up

Dana was in my dream last night, though only over the phone. Amid the usual randomness of dream logic, she cried to me from her heart and I comforted her. This morning it didn't take long to realize why she was in my dream, what she represented. I'm glad she was there.

Most of the workday was akin to hacking through undergrowth with a machete—tried to plow forward motivated by the fact that anything I accomplished would be one less thing for the rest of the week, regardless of my lack of focus. Yeah, that's boring. That's why I want a job with a shoulder holster.

I'm in for the night, shades drawn and dinner in the oven.

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