Signs and Omens

I deal with literature too much.

Pale Rider just came on, and of course, my brain just traced the path of allusions to Revelations, webbed it across Pratchett and Gaiman and Anthony, and then tied it to my own current situation.  Is this a good thing or a bad thing?  Most of the time I enjoy this extra layer that almost everything has laid over the top of it.  Sometimes it's a little like a game of Six Degrees of Separation.  Right now, though, I'm just tired, and the bits and pieces that are rubbing together are like the raw edges of broken bones.

I have nightmares when I sleep.  It doesn't matter what I watch or read before bedtime; I wake up in the night dreaming of serial killers, of monsters (and not the kind I empathize with), of loss that makes me cry. 

I am so forgetful that I can't get from one room to another without losing what I went there for.  It's distressing and horrible, like my mind is a slate being continually washed clean by fast-flowing water.  It's like being pre-migraine all the time.  Maybe that's what's really happening, but I'm not actually on-setting with pain, halo, or anything other than very delayed processing, so I can't tell.

I'm going to have to take a day soon.  As soon as I can get everybody through testing, I am going to take one of my many, many personal days and just go somewhere else.  Maybe Jackson, maybe just the Old Place.  It won't really matter.  Maybe if I spend a day somewhere other, maybe the web of connections that ties everything together won't be such a leaden burden afterward.