I wasn't expecting to touch this again. Definitely not so soon.
But I need to process this and what better way?

I had the craziest dream, woke up crying from it, couldn't stop myself either. It was wild, you know?

I knew it was a dream, within the dream, I had gone to sleep and knew then it was a dream. Within the dream of the dream, we, as in the entirety of the family I had grown up with, were attending a haunted house. I think I dreamed of this place before..., it seemed familiar. My mom was there, everyone was fine, their current health statuses not withstanding. We finished the haunted house, I had to hurry to catch up to the group, we had gotten momentarily separated. I was told I needed to go to the store with my mom to get something we needed for later. When I saw her, in the haunted house, I had to fight back tears because I knew it wasn't real. Things would never be like that again. Then, we were at the store and I did cry there. She turned to look at me and that was when I woke up, crying.

I still can't believe that. Like..., why? I wasn't doing or reading or watching anything before bed that should have prompted that.
Was it the irritation over my boss's boss threatening me basically? With loss of employment if I didn't get my hours I need. That I had assumed they actually cared based on our previous conversation. Because I knew she would understand, because we do have a few similarities after all. We accept people at their word, even if we know better than that due to past experience. We want people to be the good in the world.
Strange, still.

I dislike our similarities. Because I don't want to admit that we had more in common than the chances of birth.

I sigh, looking away from my writing. This is a pointless exercise. I don't want to think about these things. They serve no purpose.

Things are going well enough. In art, personal enjoyment fan art, the first novel has finished its basic edits. The job significantly more stressful lately, but it's going well overall.

So..., why do these thoughts plague me? I don't understand.
I thought about it, about asking where her remains are. But for what purpose? To talk at a gravestone? For whom? It doesn't matter. She would not hear me if I spoke to her from my current position or from that one. Is it the association? Since that is what I was raised into. Probably...? That doesn't make the thought less irritating though.

All of it, all of this, is irritating though. It doesn't serve a purpose. Doing this. I could be working on other fan art instead. Playing a game. Perhaps even playing with friends. Instead, I'm writing this, pondering the meaning of the dream and irrational thoughts.
I narrow my eyes, I'm done thinking about this. I'm going to go play a game. I have to go to bed relatively soon anyway. Plenty to do tomorrow.