Hospital dream.

I've been dreaming of an operation - white coats, scalpel, a tumour. It's been a little frightening. ("I am a sick man, I think there is something wrong with my liver...")

One more day of work, then we have a break. We need to rest. This has been a damaging time for us. Young Trouble wants the things we wanted a long time ago, wants to make her/his own way, wants to work. We have tried to give her/him the chance, but we're glad it is over for now. I don't know what to do about this. We try to fit so many lives into this lifespan, so many friendships and ways of living. It is too much, sometimes. I don't know how to arrange things so that we have enough time. I feel so angry about the time we waste because we can't be truthful - lately every untruth just screams to us 'waste of time', but we don't have a choice about it - truth about ourselves is not really a possibility unless we want to spend every waking second explaining ourselves. We sometimes feel paranoid that people know we are different (and multiple) and that they work extra hard to impose their ideas about us being a single person as a result. Surely ordinary (non-multiple) people don't have their single nature constantly imposed on them, relentlessly, do they? I wonder if men who inhabit the bodies of women, or women who inhabit the bodies of men have a similar experience of wondering why IT ALWAYS COMES UP - it's just never Not Mentioned. It's always THERE. And we're always having to lie and resent the time that lying takes in our crowded life.

The end.