I need to go back down to Santa Cruz on Sunday so that some weird women can go through my mother's things looking for photos of her to make in to some godawful collage. Why do they think that a collage is a fitting way to remember her? This memorial isn't for her, or even for me. It's basically their idea, people she worked with, people she knew through the writer's group, they're all really needy. Maybe it's because they're older, and death has a slightly different resonance at that age?
I'm having fewer nightmares, but I am still obviously struggling. My dreams are almost all filled with confusion, with guilt and helplessness. It's odd that I would be choosing to sleep as much as I have been with all the dreams freaking me out.
I'm going to go find something fun and weird to do.
