Sylvia's Journal

I sat in a restaurant realizing I needed to get to the airport and was already late. I called a taxi company and told them I had my own transport. The taxi dispatcher was friendly and said he would give me directions. With one hand on the phone and another busy scribbling instructions, I had no hands free to deal with an attacker who approached my table menacingly and started to take away foods. I ended up using my elbows to hurl plates towards him, in the hope of attracting attention through the clatter of dishes breaking. But the dishes fell down with a soft plop and no one came to the rescue. I was on my own and the attacker went on undisturbed. That’s when I woke up, with a great sense of loss in my heart.

The events of yesterday are recognizable in the dream. I haven’t had such a vivid dream in a long time; at least one I remember. The sense of assault is still present, so are the doubts about my presence here. Axel and I talked for a long time. He has been sensing that this was coming. We went to bed intensely sad.

Today should be better; it will be a girls’ day. First the massage, then, hopefully a lovely girls’ lunch outside with people I care deeply about. After that I will take one my colleagues’ young African wife to the fundraising party that went nowhere last week because of the ISAF vehicle accident and the drama that unfolded after that. She will be modeling clothes in a fundraising fashion show. Although I was also asked to model, I declined, having not quite the right body; but she does and she is excited about the prospect, having been sitting at home watching television the entire week with her husband on assignment outside the country. Her excitement is contagious. I think today I can forget about the dream.