I awake every three hours surrounded by cats, still dreaming, still wishing for the sunrise. Long night, solstice night, the dark wind pushes against the side of the house, pushes violent, virulent, useless dreams into my head. When I finally drag myself out of bed at 6am, I am absurdly grateful for the pushy dogs demanding to go outside and the cats meowing to have their bowls filled, the Yule lights, the coffee and the peaceful sleepers still in bed.
Long solstice night, long dark night, too many dreams, too many worries amplified by darkness and I wait for the sun to rise. Wait for the sun to lay his warmth across the land, across my head like a blessing, a reassuring heat to stop the cold spinning of dreams woven from the threads of such a long, solstice night.