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I had the strangest dream last night. I was a toddler again and my dad was taking apart and cleaning a gun in front of me. He talked me through it, step by step. I don't think that's ever happened in real life, but the dream was so vivid I could almost believe that it was an actual memory.

Mother's Day was quite a bit harder on me than it was on either of the children. The blessing in disguise is that they're both so young they haven't quite sorted out what it means that their mother is gone. Daisy has asked a few times about it, and I can tell that often she feels sad, like something is missing. It may get harder when she's in Kindergarten next year, and talks to the other children about their mothers.

In happier news, David's first birthday is one week from today. I'll be hosting a get-together to celebrate at my home on Sunday the 17th. Daisy is helping me make decorations for the party.

alright, so i looked pretty fucking cool in my dream last night. like, pure, unfiltered badass, which was awesome.

but, you know, if i could maybe stop getting possessed and killed in my dreams, that would be pretty cool too.

I'm going to need some extra coffee today.

Things are getting out of hand in these dreams. More out of hand. But you know, I think the weirdest part is how in one set of dreams there's Alan Bloom, then in another it's Alana Bloom. Not sure which I prefer.

Okay. I know which one I prefer, but Alan is way less involved in things which definitely works in his favor.

Does anyone else have stuff like that? In one version of your dreams it's a guy or girl, then in another they're the opposite?

Hey Cali. I missed you.

I don't know if I've ever experienced a joy more powerful than getting a few full nights' sleep in a row. This sleep training thing is the best thing ever. Ben is a happier baby, and Merlin and I are actually getting enough shut-eye that we can function properly.

First I'm dreaming about protecting a bunch of younglings getting their first crystals, then there's this bombing at the Temple. We investigated it but no one in our order were involved. Still, I've got a bad feeling about this...

Then I woke up and I have a big, big problem.

I just realized I ate a plate of cookies for dinner. Didn't bother looking at the time, but can anyone really blame me? I found these at the pastry shop near work and cookie brownie things are my weakness.

No regrets.

I'm pretty sure that my apartment wasn't actually made to hold a gigantic war table, but that's what I came home to. It's taking up almost the entire width of my hallway. I had to crawl on top of the thing just to get inside.

Carefully. There were pointy stabby things on it and a map that I figure in Thedas would be considered priceless.

Also, and I can't state this often enough: Just how is a dalish elf the Herald of Andraste?

Thedas, you're cray cray.

Private to Josephine
Ms. Montilyet, I've seen you around here and there and I'm almost certain you're a friend of Leliana or Cassandra... Uhm, I'm Norana, and you may at some point dream about me. Or another Herald, at least.