Dream: Harry Dresden's Life Sucks

 This morning I dreamed that I was Harry Dresden ... but it wasn't good. My magic got taken away, I fell asleep on top of a building that was still being built, some freaky Asian ghoul guy was chasing me and my friend (who was trying to hold off said ghoul and tell me to run) and I had to keep track of all these shoes ... then we ran through a school and got stuck and my magic was gone and the ghoul took my friend away and then the Wardens showed up and I was mad at them (because I was Harry Dresden ... just in my usual body, that of a tiny blond girl) and then I swore at a bunch of teachers and stormed out and then I was in MY school and started rolling up a sleeping bag and crying about all my problems and telling them to my (real life, not Harry's life) transvestite friend. 
Very strange dream. Is suspect this is what happens after one spends all day writing about Richard III: Urban Fantasy Edition, and then stays up WAY TOO LATE reading excerpts from feminist books on amazon.com ... and I have to work today. And go to a Board Meeting. ARGH.

R.I.P. Brian Jacques

 Brian Jacques is dead.

Once I took out all the Redwall books from the local library (which was a lot of books, considering some were tiny paperbacks and others were the huge hardcover versions. They left this huge gap on the self) when I decided to re-read the whole series up to its current point.

I need to get back into those books. They were so comforting. The Badger Lords in Salamandastron, Martin the Warrior's Sword, the water shrews with rapiers, the moles who talked about all the awesome food I suddenly started craving, the songs about delicious food and everlasting friendship and epic adventure, and Redwall Abbey itself. I'm not even religious and I wanted to live there. 

I mean, I knew he was old, but ... this makes me sad inside. Today was just exhausting in every sense of the word. Hard work, extreme sleepiness, a political argument, animated conversations, singing, rearranging tables and chairs, a horrible surprise in a conversation, intense pain because it's That Time of the Month, and now this.

Brian Jacques provided a wonderful world for me in fifth and sixth grade (or was it seventh and eighth?), and for that, I mourn him.