In the dream I was visiting the cottage with my parents. I met this local social worker who told me about hobby groups for young people being held in the town where the summer cottage resided, and I desperately wanted to attend them even if I knew that me and my family would go back home next week. The social worker suggested that I could take an omnibus back here and have a sleepover at her place, and that way I could attend the groups.
But I got a better idea; I checked into the local mental hospital, so I would be able to attend the local hobby groups. When I thought about my parents and how devastated they would be, I started crying. I woke up with my face scrunched up and I practically felt tears running down my face.
In the morning my mother rapped on my bedroom door and told me that I have slept for twelve hours. I actually woke up earlier, but I didn’t feel like getting up yet; I wanted to snooze later.
I got up, took my morning medicine and drank the first coffee in the morning, and then I went back to bed for about a minute, then I got up, had a proper wash, dressed up, and had oatmeal for breakfast.
Me and mom walked to the nearest supermarket and bought groceries and some treats.
We had lunch and coffee.
In the evening, about at five o’clock, I packed my stuff, hugged and kissed my mother goodbye and told her to take care.
I took a bus home, once there Mirette had already returned. We went grocery shopping, I bought a magazine with an interview with Patricia Routledge.
Once back home, I watched Netflix and knitted furiously.
Tomorrow, if I feel energetic enough, I will go to Pearl House and then to Amos Anderson art museum, and perhaps to Girls’ House as well, if I feel like doing so. I also need to finish the rest of the housework.