Shrug It Off

I had a seriously messed up nightmare the other evening. . . I dreamed that I was shot 3 times - once in the breast and twice in the stomach. I was working at a derelict factory with a close friend. We had just gotten off of work and were enjoying each others company as we exited the building. Our laughter attracted a gang of 4 men that seperated us and mocked our good moods and then shot me. I died in my friend's arms as the gang ran off, laughing to themselves and congratulating each other. I have never dreamed that I died, let alone being murdered.

I like to try and suss things like this out, but I'm stumped. I woke up with a pain in my stomach which may or may not have been imagined and I couldn't fall back asleep. My feeling of unease about the nightmare continued well into the next day. . . I thought that your brain simply couldn't handle you dying in a dream and that such a thing wasn't possible.

To help shake the mood, I did a bit of sewing. I'm able to lose myself in the finer details of construction and the little jacket I created did just the trick. I made myself a sunny little shrug of vintage fabric and buttons that I've had forever.