… these can bring you all
Those dreams that in the starlit silence fall:
Sweet songs are full of odours.
— Siegfried Sassoon
I’ve been rather busy the past several days with work. Not that my life hasn’t been stumbly; it seems, from looking at my blog archives for the past few months, that there is a transition point between Monday and Tuesday when my nightmares are far more likely to push me over. It’s less when I remember to snuggle with as many of the cows as possible ((Overherd.size = 7;)) or remember to install/turn on all the full-spectrum lighting, but this past early Tuesday morning pushed me over as well.
Still, I was able to get back in the saddle again, even working from home the same day, despite being afraid to open the bedroom door at 8am the same morning.
But every morning, I remember it’s November. It doesn’t matter if I even consciously remember what month it is; just the way that the light falls at a certain point in the day tells me it’s heading to late autumn. And so I’m remembering times in the past. Mostly I’m remembering the Years of Zorn and Tharn. Any time of the year was dangerous, but this time always felt worse. For obvious reasons.
Lately, I’m doing my best to try to build new memories on top of the old ones. It’s hard for me to remember that only a small fraction of my life has been spent in relative freedom—well, okay, that’s easy. I just don’t like to recall that it’s the case. Plus it’s only until this year that I could presumably have a semi-sane end of November ((I can’t say the holiday. Good gods, it’s bad.)), because it’s… what… the three-year anniversary of my worst flashback and maybe I can put it behind me?…
… still too soon.
Anyways. Autumn is a very transitional time, so I suppose I notice that more these days. I think it’s the most beautiful, if gothic, time of the year.