this scar is a fleck on my porcelain skin

I had a strange dream Thursday morning. It was one of those that felt very meaningful, even if it was just dream nonsense. In it, I watched a tornado hit a horse farm. Tornado dreams are recurring for me and they often follow a similar track. I find the storms beautiful and frightening, but in the dream, I know they won't ever actually hit me, swerving at the last moment, or sucking back up into the sky--just like my real-life twister did when I was a teen. This dream one was unusual. The storm took up all the horses out of the field, but then, just as it reached the top of a hill, it vanished back into the clouds, and they fell to earth again. They were unhurt but terrified, and they stampeded in a rush straight at me. All colors of horse: chestnut, blood, white, palomino, black. As they raced by, I kept trying to catch them.

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I've had an odd but good last few days. I feel like my brain is doing a good job of reorganizing itself, dumping feelings I don't need. Especially in the desperate deep winter, I forget sometimes that I'm actually good at this: this kind of ruthless self processing, throwing switches. Mercury moved out of the shadow phase, fully free of retrograde, and now I see things clearly.

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It's snowing in Virginia today, and even though it likely means rescheduling something I was looking forward to, I can't find it in myself to be disagreeable about such a pretty thing. I know up in Manassas, my mom is likely very happy, and there are so many bright birds on my feeder. Me, I'm just drinking coffee and thinking.

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I can't wait to buy my fucking hatchet. Red and sharp like, you know, my heart.