Introducing Roger

So….how many blogs does a girl need, you might ask.

And that’s a good question.

I post most often by far on my Appreciation Blog. And even though it was supposed to be a 365 project, I’ve decided to keep it going for a very, very long time. Totally purposeful decision there, you know. Of course. Good things don’t always have to end, right? (Okay, the truth is that I’m a horrible procrastinator. But you already knew that.)

On this blog, my “Something Sage”…it’s sort of this and that, whenever I feel especially like posting. Or something.

But when I met Roger…I knew I needed a blog just for him. Just for all that may, or may not, be him.

My heart trembles as I offer him to you. After all…he’s very dear to me. And what if you don’t understand him? What if you don’t get him? What if you don’t like him?!?!

Still…he’s part of me.  And it feels like it’s time to introduce him to you.

Are you terribly curious by now?

Well, without further adieu….

Meet Roger.

Where Do They Come From?

I woke up and looked at the clock. 3:33, to be exact.

Funny. “3” is my “special” number.

But it was much too early to be awake….even if it was cool to see 3:33.

I rolled over and went back to sleep.

Waking up again….I looked at the clock.

3:33.

Weird.

Too tired to even think through that one, I closed my eyes again and sighed, blissfully remembering the nights of nothingness I took for granted.

Curiosity prompted me to look at the clock again.

3:33.

Freaky.

I think there is a movie like that…but I haven’t seen it in years.

Once more I woke up…

3:33.

Yikes.

Then I woke up. And realized it had all been a dream. Waking up over and over again throughout the night makes for some crazy rest. Even if you aren’t really waking up.

Ummm…..yep. That happened.

Then last night I dreamed very actively about being in this poor part of a big city, and holding poor, crying, dirty babies and hugging them as I talked to their mothers and tried to help them move to safer places. There were boys on skateboards that I knew by name and we smiled and waved at each other.

I went away, but felt compelled to return. I needed to help these people.

But when I got back, it had been years and years and the place that was so populated was like a ghost town. One man came walking toward me, but he was scary looking and I tried to move away. He called out my name, and then told me that I helped him when he was a boy, and that I hadn’t been afraid of him then. He was still the same person, he explained…so why would I try to run from him? I was confused and frustrated…and thinking.

As I woke up out of this dream, I heard a voice say, “This is what you are preparing for.”

Wow. Dreams are interesting. I like them. Most of them. But where do they come from anyway?