imbolc

last night was plagued with various dreams of childhood demons, white rooms, posters circa france 1921 that were coming to life in a myriad of creepy and disturbing ways.
i went through french class in a daze. it's odd though, the language comes to my tongue more easily than it used to. this continues to surprise me, although i suppose it shouldn't.
i continue to not celebrate this holiday, just like all the other ones in the past few months.
can't lay my mind to rest enough to grasp onto any rituals.
also, my allergy to all things milk and cleaning plays havoc with with this celebration anyway.

i have many things to reply to, comments left unanswered, e-mails left unreturned, entries i wanted to post to.
soon, i hope.