I just woke up. It’s my usual time – 3am – and I’m on my third wake up of the night so far. I don’t mind that at all. It’s been long enough to look at my pictures of Mr Fantastic. He’s sooooo amazing. Honestly could do with him here for this one though. Some hugs are just what I need. Had a dream and I guess if not a nightmare it was very emotional for me. I woke upset, I feel like I’ve been put through the wringer. 

Back story – when I was in primary school I read every book they owned. Every single one in the school library. My headteacher used to go to the nearest high school and get books out there for me to read. She was lovely and pushed me in my reading. The library at school was my safe space. There was other stuff going on at home so as a small child having a safe place was important. It was beautiful. I can remember it now. Sitting by the window. One of the chairs. Books on books on books. The smell. It was shut in and there were big double doors. It was dark and cosy – it was the main library, properly old fashioned. There was another downstairs in the school but this one was mine. The classroom was literally across the hall and every time we got a free hour to play or paint or go on the computer I’d race to the library and curl up there. It was my favourite place. At lunchtimes I’d either be playing chess or reading. You could look out onto one of the playgrounds or just sit in a corner and be safe. It was quiet but there was always background. Someone was always around. It was cosy. I even joined schoool groups to spend more time in there. We did book sales to raise funds for school and if there were plays that’s where we practised. Anything to spend time in the library. 

So. My dream. The school was rebuilding. I’d been promised the library and it’s content. Shelves, armchairs, bits and bobs. It was different in that dream sense in the way everything is but the FEELING was the same. It was my safe place. I’d returned back to the village after however many years it’s been and the library had been replaced. Everything was gone. They didn’t even let me keep a book. I was devastated. Utterly devastated. The headmistress had died. A few old teachers from my time there still existed but otherwise, new staff. New buildings. New everything. Then as I walked round the village I realised other things were new. Houses had been replaced. Rows of terraces had been rebuilt and changed. The entire landscape of my childhood had been rewritten while I was away. I volunteered at the school but it was with an overwhelming sense of sadness. I cried. I mourned the loss of my library, my safe space. I woke up then. Wrung out like I’d been crying for hours. I feel… sad. Like I’m saying goodbye to something. Like I’m letting it go – which is strange. New beginnings and all that. I haven’t dreamed or been to that school in such a long time. I’m quite upset. Hopefully I can get back to sleep and it’ll all be resolved. 

I’ve been so happy these past 5 days. Maybe it’s a direct result of my brain rewiring itself. The sadness has to come out somewhere I guess – we are talking chemicals. Who knows. 

I’m going back to sleep. The dog is curled up in my arms like a baby. The children are all cuddled round each other. The sky is starting to lighten. Sweet dreams. 

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