So, last night the only dream I recall involved Helen and Indigo Bunting. I was in an unfamiliar place — it was dimly-lit, but warm and comfortable. There were other people in the room, but they were all shadows. Helen sat on a sofa next to me and we were discussing our carbon footprints. I was telling Helen that I thought her carbon footprint was much smaller than mine — that Indigo Bunting said so. Something about kids being environmentally unsound.
As I sit in my living room this morning and look at the mess my teen aged daughter has made of the room — papers strewn over every horizontal surface, tubes of paint littering the coffee table, broken Christmas ornaments she promised to donate to the art room, dirty socks and hair ribbons scattered around — from studying for exams half the night, I think IB had a point.
Oh, Helen — your hair was georgous in the dream.