Before I forget

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Tired and Emotional

Tired and Emotional (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I arose very early on Tuesday morning and was soon up and about though still remaining a little tired. I have had these feelings for quite some time, tired, listless, drained and not wanting to do anything but sit or lie down. I don’t give in to such thoughts of course, I keep active instead. One of the reasons I awoke was to do something about that tree stump in the front garden which stubbornly refuses any attempt to remove it. After breakfast I donned my overalls and gave it another go but was soon defeated, the saw made only a small amount of progress so I put it away. Attempt number two was a better idea. I took my cordless drill and a wood bit to the stump and drilled several deep holes in it. Next I poured into the holes some herbicide until they were full. Now all I have to do is wait and see if that gets results. Hopefully it will otherwise I will have to think of something else, a chainsaw perhaps? Anyway I returned indoors to chat with E who had just come downstairs for her breakfast. She’d asked what I had been doing so early in the morning and then we chatted about other things. I mentioned a dream I had dreamt but at first I couldn’t remember it’s content. Immediately upon waking I kept the dream in my thoughts in the hope I could write it down later as I usually do. In the dream I was visiting a building site, the house someone was building. On my arrival there I saw a tower of scaffolding standing about seven or eight metres high and I started to climb it in order to reach the person whose house it would become when finished. I thought it was extremely odd that this person, a guy, a colleague from my past was involved with such a project as that sort of work was foreign to him, he just wasn’t capable. His wife was with him and it seemed that she had more knowledge of what to do than he had. Just then the scaffolding fell away from the house, though it no longer appeared to be a house but an open-sided factory of some sort. I fell to the ground surrounded by the scaffold and severely injured. Somehow I managed to dig myself out and was furious with my ex-colleague. I somehow pushed the scaffolding back to its original position and upright as I argued with him. I have no idea where the strength to do that had come from! I then found myself carrying out some work before I woke up rather abruptly. Now what I am about to write you may find as strange as I did, I had blood on my night-clothes. It was fresh blood and was easily washed off (I washed the whole garment later) in the hand basin. I checked my body for evidence of any wounds and could not find anything! What can I say?

Shirley Anne

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