Sunday Sundries: sometimes I dream in paisley

I finished a mystery I was reading on Friday; I have unlimited respect for Louise Penny and her work. Her characters are like friends I rely on for humor, sanity, intelligence, integrity, and compassion. The most recent novel’s written with her usual deft ability to lure readers back to a world they’ve visited for twenty books. The plots can be heart-stopping, sometimes heartbreaking, but there’s comfort that somehow, all will be well in the end. This time was no exception except that The Grey Wolf ventured a little too close to a reality that frequently costs me sleep and peace of mind. Maybe because a lot of the current real world exhibits very little humor, sanity, intelligence, integrity, and compassion.

The next novel in the series is due by year’s end, and I hope to be a little better prepared in heart and mind. Maybe reality will cooperate and improve, as well.

After finishing Penny’s book, I looked forward to a very different novel for my next selection, the fifth in a historical fantasy/supernatural series, Deborah Harkness’s The Black Bird Oracle. I was racing through it before it came to a natural stopping place at my bedtime. I fell asleep easily, but the last section I’d read made its vivid way into my dreams with its concept of “bottled memories.” Literally, a human (or ghost, or witch, or vampire, etc.) can choose to pour their memories into a bottle and seal them inside before…well, whatever comes next.

What came next for me was a 4:30 a.m. wide-awakeness and seal-breaking on some of my own bottled memories. ETA: Over the following days, I published a series of posts that I later made private. If you read and commented on those, I can still see your comments and I thank you. I was grateful to have the opportunity to express thoughts and feelings about some of my memories.

This photo included items connected to memories in my bottle that became part of those now-private posts.