Well that was terrible. I must - what's the DW equivalent of Vaguebook? - Anyway that. But yesterday was bad. Tomorrow will be a bit strange too, the tenth anniversary of my father's death.
So I cut some of the bread I had made and covered it in the jam I had made. And it was lovely.
Strange waking dreams, saw a great standing stone. Later, caught sight of Franz Von Stuck's Luzifer.

Not sure what's going on with his right hand, just beneath it there looks like a pocket as part of the wing(?) whatever. Maybe he keeps his popcorn there. He turned to me and spoke some language I didn't know but somehow understood. What he said was;
'You're really hurt, huh Ging?'
To which the answer was I'm not really ging [and then following on via dream logic] I'm not really hurt.
But what I meant was, I am really hurt, just not harmed. I hate it when Mum loses the plot especially when she impersonates me like a spiteful nine year old. I know she's very ill but she can calm the hell down, and I'm going to leave her to do just that for a few days. Next week I have to go see her. She can either be helpful or not, but I am not thinking of this anymore today, or until I have to get on the plane if I can help it.
And back to him; but he wasn't really back to me. He was looking at something intently. From beside him I could see it was like staring out through the horizontal slits in a bird hide. Beyond was a big avenue full of people, sky scrapers on either side of the road. He beckoned me closer to have a look, but I was very wary of getting near enough to touch him.
Then I woke and here I am, giving myself more time before getting to grips with dull stuff.