After I wrote the poem "It is too late to hide her," I had the most vivid dream. When I awoke the next morning I madly started writing it down before the images faded. I believe the act of writing that poem released something in me that will continue to linger. The dream was about owning myself as a writer. I won't go into all the crazy elements of the dream, basically it was a dream about owning myself, having the self-confidence to declare who it is I am. What stands out most about the dream is when I said this: I am a writer. That is what they pay me for. So, I'm going to hold onto those thoughts for a while. It feels good to keep them tucked just under my heart. My own little dream floating out there, even in my subconscious.