"I can't tonight Hillary. I have to wash my hair."

Last night I dreamed Hillary Clinton wanted to be my best friend. We went to dinner, coffeehouses, bars, movies, parks, just to name a few. And in this dream, she was constantly trying to convince me to do more things with her. To "hang out" with her more. She became so needy at one point that I started screening her calls. Hillary was desperately seeking my approval, and while I assured her over and over that she was cool and we could be friends and meet occasionally for happy hour and an afternoon stroll, she never stopped wanting me to accept her MORE. It was an exhausting experience.

Now, this may illustrate the degree to which the upcoming primaries and election are affecting me, or it may be that Clinton is now trying everything she can to gain some momentum, even if it means invading a sleeper's subconscious. But I've had dreams like this before. Just last month, Bill Clinton and I were best friends (Hillary would be sooo jealous) and each day we would visit, often going on hikes or reading books or chatting about the world. It was a blast and I was a little sad that morning when I realized that Bill and I wouldn't be hanging out later that day.

I don't know why Barack hasn't made an appearance in my nightly dramas yet. I would really like to play golf with him. He could wear plaid pants and I could help him improve his swing (because in my dream I would of course be an immensely talented golfer) and he would smile a lot and we would end our day with a couple beers and dinner out on the deck of the clubhouse. I'm tempted to hop in my pjs right now just to make it all happen sooner.

Whether or not Barack accepts my invitation, I will continue to love the fact that I have such vivid dreams. From the time I was a small child my dreams have always seemed so real, so close. This can be both extremely terrifying and extremely exciting. I get to feel emotions and have experiences without any of the consequences. Sometimes it takes days for my mind to fully realize that a dream didn't actually happen. I carry the reality of it with me and deal with it in the same way I process my waking moments.

When I saw Hillary's face on the news this morning, I immediately ducked behind my kitchen counter before she could see me. I simply don't have enough time for friends like that.

The Thaw.

Stepping outside into the afternoon sun, I literally feel the earth spinning toward spring.

The heavy winds prove that Mother Earth is as anxious as I am for an end to this dark, dreary season. She’s not losing any time hurtling us back into long days and balmy evenings, flirty skirts and exposed toes, impromptu picnics and freckled skin. My soul could use a heavy dose of sunshine and riding with the windows down.

A part of me worries that I will be never be able to adjust to the colder, wetter climate of my future dream city. But mostly I’m just ready to live in a place I’m not constantly trying to escape, which hasn’t happened since I drove west, away from my low city on the sparkling water.

In other news, I love February. The compactness of it all. Festivals and carnivals; bright purples and greens and pinks and reds which replace the gloomy bareness of January; long weekends with good friends and hot chili; oyster roasts and cold beer and cheering for big games. All of this crammed into the shortest, sweetest month, which this year has been granted a generous 29 days to allow time to complete our annual leap around the sun.

*scampers off to enjoy her well-earned weekend*