Last night I had a dream about someone I knew who had committed suicide. It was not long after the fact, and the person was in the morgue. He began twitching, and then sprung up and left the room. I was quite concerned, and wasn't sure how I'd tell his children that their father had become a zombie of sorts (and looked decades younger...)
I was also told that my bike Sally would 'once have been a good bike to ride', implying that she was past her prime.
And tying this together is the fact that I finished reading The Virgin Suicides. It was a great read, but boy, it left me feeling pretty down. Which I guess shouldn't be that surprising. I wasn't in a good mood this afternoon, so went for a walk.
I ended up in Barbados St Cemetery. Never before have I felt so aware of the dead surrounding me.