. . . of Whom I May Never Recall

Word of the day:
N00b/Noob: A newbie. An inexperienced, ignorant, or unskilled person. Especially used in computer games. Also "newb".
In use: Ha ha! That n00b got owned!

I have some good news on the work front. I cannot discuss it due to its confidential nature, but it is great news. It is very cold here in Saint Louis, in the below zero degrees Fahrenheit range. The Shetland Islands had a 3.3 magnitude earthquake. The Bush's are moving to Dallas. Chris got a new phone, you should text him!! I downloaded the song Mad World last night and have listened to it probably 100 times already. I'm checking shop drawings today, which is not my favorite task, but a mindless task, so I'm rather happy about them today. I have a doctor's appointment this afternoon. Chris has graciously agreed to leave work early and pick me up to take me there. I know it is because he secretly hopes I'm preggo. I told him that I will be cussing him out if I am. Our current economy is no situation to start having children. I've been told that there is no good time to have children, but I would prefer to have my own terms!

I had a crazy dream about, imagine this, dead people. I 'worked' with two men who killed people. My job was to stay with the people until they died, mostly so they wouldn't be alone. The people that were chosen had some reason unbeknown to me that meant they were selected to die. It was difficult for me because I would find people that I felt should have a second chance, or maybe I felt they never got a first chance. In any case, I knew they were the chosen one by the Angels of Death. Consoling someone who was near death was very difficult to see, but familiar as I often have these dreams, of dead people; it also reminds me of my own father's death. In my dream, I sat or laid with these chosen ones, holding their hand maybe holding them, wiping the hair off their face, wiping their tears, telling them that this was how it was for everyone, but that they had a place to be (even when I didn't believe it), they needed to let go. They would be cold, one of the more significantly vivid idiosyncrasies of the dream. I often would give their cold cheek a kiss. I made sure their eyes were closed. I had given up on crying myself because I had felt I had no more tears. I had given up on being sad as I was exhausted. I don't know where my dream ended or began; I only remember two significant people. A tallish black man who worked in a children's toy store; he went easily, almost as if he knew. The other was a young girl with longer blond hair, very yuppie looking, little make up but more than I felt she should wear. She wore ample clothing, a thin white hoodie, comfortable jeans. When she saw us, the brigade of death, she knew what it meant, but fought us anyway, her cheeks became flushed and I begged the two men to let her live because she fought so hard. They acted as though they didn't hear me and continued on restraining her until she was complacent. It was now my turn, so I laid with her and sang songs. I don't know what I sang, I think I mostly hummed. She held me as I laid with her and I could feel the moment she 'let go' because her body became limp in my arms. I continued to hold her a moment longer, gave her a kiss on her ear and laid her down. Her once flushed cheeks were now a grayish pale. I could only now take a moment to glance around and see I was in a messy room, clothes and bedding everywhere. Then I was onto other people . . . of whom I may never recall.

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