death and dreams

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I was munching my breakfast on the stairs this morning, silently congratulating myself on being slightly ahead of schedule. Shortly afterwards, I stood in the bathroom cleaning my teeth and gazing absently mindedly into the mirror. You look different, I told myself. Why do you not look like you should? Oh. My nose had fallen off. No, of course not. I had actually forgotten to finish putting on my makeup. No wonder I was ahead of schedule. So, then I had to finish my face {I don't really wear a lot of makeup, but I do feel naked without my eyeliner on} and that put me slightly behind schedule. I made it to Bus Stop with two minutes to spare. Phew. My uncle - by marriage, he was married to Father's older half-sister - passed away at the weekend. I read the message from my cousin very early on Sunday morning before promptly falling asleep again. I dreamt of Father. I dreamt that nobody had told him, which even in my dream struck me as sad; he knew him from whence he was still a little boy in shorts. Still, that's what happens when you effectively cause people to cut you from their lives, isn't it? You don't get invited to weddings, your elderly brother vows to punch you if he ever sees you again, and you don't find out that people you were once close to have died. Oh well. Such is life.