Yule

Every night of Yule I have had vivid, vivid dreams of my sister. Nothing horrific or tragic, no reliving of the night she died. Mundane things. Wonderful, beautiful every day things. More than once a night. 

Insistent in death as she was in life. 

I cannot decide whether to be depressed or a weird nostalgic-cheerful. The past week and change has been interesting up in my head. I swear, every time I try and be a good Heathen my beloved dead get real interested in my goings on. Feisty even.

As a result I could really use a nap.