not entirely sure what could have caused it, but last night i dreamed that my husband, dr. martin luther king jr., while in the midst of the american civil rights movement, was shot and then beaten by six teenage boys on the wrap-around deck of our country home while i watched through the glass patio doors, holding our child and crying.
what the fuck, right?
i did just finish writing a paper on john lewis for my american 1960s history course, but that was over the weekend and yesterday was spent wandering the aisles of ikea and the linen chest, comparing bed frames and towels and sets of dishes. this was followed by a casual dinner at montana’s and a lazy bus ride home where i zoned out in front of CSI. or something like it. no pressing thoughts concerning the civil rights movement, let alone mlk.
i do remember discussing babies with matt before we fell asleep, because i wish desperately that i were old enough and mature enough and financially stable enough to have one of those. so that could place the baby in there, but the rest of it? i don’t know. it was pretty graphic. and kind of disturbing.
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