Fuck me. I did all this dumbass full moon magic last week, and all I've gotten from my intentions have been horrible dreams.
In last night's, I was fiddling with my hands like I do when I've been gardening and find a thorn. I started picking at it, and suddenly my fingers were up under my swollen knuckle and I was yanking out a thick hunk of glass. I could tell the glass came from my shattered storm windows. That made sense. I garden barehanded too much and worry about cutting myself from where the maintenance people broke a window over a bed.
But in the dream, I flexed my hands and felt more pain, so I started picking at another spot. I pried up the skin at the underside of my hand, under the meat of my palm and all my silly little lines, and forced my fingers into the muscle. I pulled out a broken piece like from the lip of a vintage wine glass. It was long and curved with a pretty green leaf pattern. I kept digging and finding more and more. By the end of the dream, my hands were torn up into nothing, ripped down to bare bone and tendon, but still studded with glass.
I feel like I am spelling out the details of some curse, and maybe I am. I most certainly deserve it.
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