Maybe it’s time I go through all of my stuff and thin it out some. Bria’s doing it. I have too much stuff. I get attached to my stuff too much. Yes. I have too much stuff.
Trying to remember the Ice Dream. I know it. I know it. I can picture it… it was a repeating nightmare that someone had… but who, and where? It’s driving me mad. It may have been Rand Al’thor… or was it a Marion Zimmer Bradley thing? No… Stephen R. Donaldson, maybe? But those are all books I don’t have anymore, so I can’t look it up… I just can’t remember. What did I do with those Donaldson books? They must have been sold in the ‘I need food and bus fare’ stack… along with Shannara and the Dragon Reborn books. I forget. I suppose it’s good that I forget, or else I would mourn the loss of stuff way too much. There are still things I miss, but they’re just things… I don’t seem to want to let them go. Things represent memories for me… without a tool to remind me of the memory, I lose forever… and sometimes, memories are all I’ve got left.
Suddenly I’m stabbed with a feeling… I want a dad again. Not my dad, he wasn’t ever really dad… just a dad. Daddy I’m scared, can’t you save me from the monsters under my bed? Daddy I’m lost, can’t you come take me home and give me a blanket and hot chocolate with marshmallows by the fire? Daddy I’m lonely can you sing songs to me and chase away the darkness?
It’s not right to want that, though. I’m 24 now. I’m not daddy’s little girl, and no one is going to take me in their arms and just hold me and hold me and hold me and not ask for anything more. There never was before, why would there be now?