I never remember my dreams, but last night I dreamed, vividly, about getting married. In the dream, I pulled out a dress that i'd saved for years - a white silk dress from Paris that my friend gave me in Ethiopia one year. I've had it for a decade. I always thought I'd wear it at my wedding to BT. In the dream, I pulled it out and decided to wear it for this dream wedding, to R. The dress is real. After we split, BTs friends went to his place in Montreal and folded up all my dresses and put them in a garbage bag that BT brought to me that Christmas. Back to the dream: BT came over on his bike on the morning of my wedding. He brought me flowers, and said hello and goodbye to my parents. It was summer. The flowers were beautiful. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. In the dream, we were all happy, like this whole painful rupture was just a bump along the path of our lives, we're moving forward, all is well. Is it weird that R wasn't in the dream at all?

It must be the anti-malarials. I'm in Kinshasa for a month.

11:55 a.m. - 2021-11-23