I wanted to write about his speech, the marvel of it and its kindness, his kindness. But instead I need to acknowledge my grief. My dream made it visible, though in my fleeing through an apocalyptic landscape, it was more like a vision of fear than pain. I am brought low. And yet, what they said yesterday was nothing too bad. They judged and gave their opinions, one softly the other no so. Why did it floor me? And why, oh why, does it take me so long to recover? It was the last one, three, possibly four, more episodes of judgement then it is is over. Over.
