Nightmares

Last night I dreamt that He was killed in a terrorist attack on London. It was so real and vivid that when my grief-stricken dream-self awoke to see Him lying asleep next to me, I was filled with the mixture of rage and relief that characterises being terrified for someone who then walks in cheerfully unaware of the panic they've caused.

Of course, He woke up when I threw myself into His arms and started crying hysterically, and even stayed awake with me from then until our normal alarm time an hour and a half later.

It's left me feeling shaken and slightly removed from reality. I suppose the four hours sleep doesn't help.

Sometimes having a vivid imagination is a curse.