Eyes of Different Colors

I had a nightmare last night. It was pretty intense. It felt real and sad and weird. Someone I care about was in trouble for a crime they didn’t commit. I was trying to talk to the judge. She was eating small pieces of pork out of tupperware of different sizes. Finally her clerk told me there’d been a mistrial. She said a girl was meant to be on the jury, a girl from a Caribbean island, a girl with eyes of different colors.

When I woke up, I found my paper bracelet from Gator Country crumpled up in my sheets. John and I had been wearing these since we visited the alligators months ago. I felt sad that mine broke. I felt sad for many reasons. It took all day for the feeling to lift. Drawing myself with eyes of different colors – aren’t we, after all, the people in our dreams? – helped. I felt like I was reclaiming some of my power. But what helped most was the party at John’s tonight, and once again selling a few paintings.


    1. Thanks! I did sleep better and dreamt nothing too terrible! I also thought the same thing: I want her to be part of the ghost story I’m writing. She’ll actually appear in two of the hurricane stories!

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