(Monday, February 19, 2024) waxing gibbous moon Cancer / tarot Death
Early this morning I dream that Chris and I visit one of his surgeons. We meet with him and his spouse. He sends us back home but schedules an urgent surgery at three o’clock the same afternoon. He tells me to do some writing: “What are your goals?”
I rush to find something decent to wear to the hospital. I can find nothing. All of my clothing have rips and tears, needing to be thrown out and replaced. Even the sheets of paper I search for are not blank: no room for my writing. What does the doctor want to know from me? I am not the patient.
I keep looking at the clock and it is ticking! My frustration level is sharp, painful. I can’t find what I need, and it is twenty minutes to three. We need to leave.
Day notes:
The shooting and killing of three first-responders yesterday was very sad. The buses carrying the bodies for inspection in Minnetonka passed by our house, just three blocks to the east (35W).