I wouldn't necessarily call myself superstitious or particularly spiritual. However, I do tend to be quite introspective and enjoy the simple joys of understanding what the hell is going on inside my head. That with my love for anything a bit weird and nonsensical has led to me keeping a sort of diary on my dreams, where I less reiterate their contents and more summarise what moral or message I took from them.

Maybe some of them will resonate with you, too.

lessons learnt from the previous night's dreams:

- - 8/8/2024 - -
between 'fight' and 'flight', you seem to have a clear preference. figure out if that's a good thing.

- - 21/7/2024 - -
have a plan. and arguably more importantly, have a back-up plan.

- - 16/7/2024 - -
adventures are nice as long as they aren't dangerous.

- - 10/7/2024 - -
take measures to protect your own space - don't be afraid to be assertive.

- - 7/7/2024 - -
leaning towards the answers "no, you don't" and "yes, you are" respectively.

- - 4/7/2024 - -
maybe, just sometimes, it could be of use to imagine something less terrifying than the worst case scenario.

- - 29/6/2024 - -
check the stove before leaving the house.

- - 27/6/2024 - -
you could do more to keep in touch with people.

- - 26/6/2024 - -
the puzzle cannot be solved by imagination alone.

- - 25/6/2024 - -
if something reminds you of your childhood best friend, say it out loud. the warmth could still be there despite the complicated feelings.

- - 23/6/2024 - -
when you dress in a way you're confident in, any question or comment about it can be taken as a compliment.

- - 20/6/2024 - -
encourage and protect the people you care about.

- - 19/6/2024 - -
keep your online life separate from your personal one.

- - 18/6/2024 - -
it is often beneficial to be kind and curious despite the people who do not offer that kindness back.

- - 9/6/2024 - -
learn to listen to your heart, your head and your gut. it will save you.

But her sister sat still just as she left her, leaning her head on her hand, watching the setting sun, and thinking of little Alice and all her wonderful Adventures, till she too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was her dream :—

First, she dreamed of little Alice herself :— once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were look- ing up into hers—she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head, to keep back the wandering hair that would always get into her eyes—and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive with the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream.

The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by—the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool —she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution—once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’ knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it—once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate- pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea- pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miseralbe Mock Turtle.

So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again and all would change to dull reality—the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rip- pling to the waving of the reeds—the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep-bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy—and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all the other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the con- fused clamour of the busy farm-yard—while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.

Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman ; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood : and how she would gather about her other little children, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long-ago : and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.