Jillian
The first thing I wanted to do when I woke up was to blog about the dream I had last night - or at least write it down before I forget the (what little I had) details; because then it becomes nothing more than gibberish, random fragments of the dream that was.

I had dreamt about my sister, she was standing (or maybe she was sitting - foggy detail) in front of a green screen/wall, like the weather girls do in the news. She had on a tank top with thin, barely-visible-but-you-know-it's-there horizontal lines and matching shorts. And I happen to know for a fact that it was cotton. Very summery.

Still in my morning stupor, I stumbled out of bed, grabbed some scraps of paper and started to jot down this piece of "last night". I even knew what I wanted to quickly scribble down - my sister was ---

Then I realized that I was still tossing around under the covers, reluctant to get up. Reluctant to give up the comfort of my bed. For the next couple of minutes I just stared cross-eyed at the ceiling (we all do that in the morning; stare cross-eyed) having silent thoughts; the kind that you know are there, but not fully knowing you're thinking them?

It must've been a nice dream, because I woke up not feeling angry or resentful (not that I am bitter all the time, but everyone feels resentment in one point of their lives - some more often than others).

No one person's dreams are more special - especially if you're sitting there reading about it (this). But I'd like to think of it as sharing a small part of me; which sometimes just means I want to cling on just a little bit longer.

I will be sharing a dream I've had as a child in my coming entries; it must've been almost two decades since. I don't remember all the details, but what little that I do remember, sends chills up my spine and evokes nostalgic memories. Contradicting emotions, i know. I can't explain it either.
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