Sunday night I dreamed that I was at an airport to meet my parents so we could go to Korea together. Only I kept thinking of all the things I hadn't packed. Finally I found my parents and told them all the things I was missing, and we looked in my suitcase and it wasn't even mine. I woke up with a feeling of foreboding far surpassing anything this dream deserved, or the day it preceded either, because Monday was just fine. I stayed home from work. It was lovely. I should have done it again today.
My African violet is once again blooming--I have one mostly-open flower and eight buds. I don't know what made it decide to bloom again, but I'm pleased it did. Especially as the task my performance of which the violet was a present for (is that right?) has now come out with a sequel. Which is fine; I enjoyed the task more than most of my work here.
Sometime this week I need to buy the rest of the wedding present for Aunt Karolyn. And ask Mom if my black sundress (with flowers on it) will be appropriate. I don't think I'm worried about not packing properly for that trip (only two nights, anyway, I have clothes and such at Mom's house and I've got the DNA scarf to do on the plane). I think I'm unprepared to move on from where I am. Or I'm only interpreting my dream because I have nothing better to do. Then again (as I've said elsewhere), a dream interpretation probably says more about the interpreter than about the dream.