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Sunday, early hours of the morning
Day 112

Whisperings in the dark keep me awake. The patterns above my bed are purely imaginary, conjured by tired eyes open too long in the dark. But when I close my eyes, the images burn beneath them. Great shapes like fresh brands pulse dully, and finally I toss the covers off. Too much pent-up energy inside of me. The plants wailed until I agreed not to go to market yesterday--a few of them have been uncomfortable as of late, and just like faithful pets, they refused to let me get into (what they thought was) harm's way. Fine, as long as they didn't keep that racket going.

Can't even read. None of the lights will turn on, not even the ones downstairs--not all of the bulbs could have gone out at the same time! I give up around one thirty and go to get some glow-plants to take with me to the greenhouse to look about, soothing the fussing nocturnal plants who weren't used to seeing me with them for so long.

Around two, suddenly my house floods with light (should have made sure they were OFF, ugh) and I rush to turn them off. Hear a pop--well, one of them is out now. I hope I didn't wake anyone up, 'specially with us so close. The nursery and living space upstairs are dark in two minutes with the exception of a faint light upstairs and down.

Definitely not tired anymore. Well, I doubt the goddess will mind one less person dreaming. Play around until it's time for sunrise, then just before go to sit by the river to watch. With my nightclothes soaked by the dew and my hair floating freely about me, I finally feel at peace.

Oh, election day is tomorrow! Wonder how the process works? Will I need to be up extra early?



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