I usually write poetry on here... I like it, the freestyling, but no one could make this up if they were desperate.

Sunday night I dreamed that I was in another country, dreams are a little vague sometime, so I have to be. I didn't know what country it was exactly, but I was surrounded by quite a few natives of the land. I didn't get the impression that I was a native. I felt a lot like an outsider, not in a bad way, but in an intuitive way. Anyways, the sky or ceiling turned beige and everyone became louder. They weren't panicking, but their behavior seemed more like a two-year old ignoring someone calling their name or something. Suddenly the places explodes, I'm there, but I'm not hurt. The bomber seemed to be taunting me. But I wasn't hurt. The area was different and it seemed as if everyone who had been hurt in the bomb was restored and talking loudly to one another again. But I knew something was wrong. I saw the bomber again and the place exploded again. He was taunting me like the first time, but only this time the people were not restored and I was shaking.

I woke up with a piece of a chipped tooth in between my upper and lower molars. I had been gritting my teeth. It was a real fight. I knew the dream meant something and all day Monday I was in a funk. I thought that maybe the suicide bomber was symbolic for the stresses in my life. I didn't really understand. Since I was 16, my friends would ask me to interpret their dreams and everytime, naturally I would do it and with a clear and comprehensive interpretation. They began calling me Yusuf (Arabic for Joseph) in reference to the Torah and Qur'an of Prophet Joseph. (Check out Genesis in the Torah) The story of the two prisoners and Joseph (may Allah be pleased with him) interpreting their dreams...

I never knew where it came from. I'm a very sensitive person and am usually caught up in thought. Contemplative thought. Not like a weirdo or space cadet, but just really thinking through almost too much. Earlier in the week I was on edge about the dream I had had. Then on Thursday morning, Democracy Now reports Sister Bhutto was assassinated in a suicide bombing. I hated it. The injustice, the fact that my sister had been murdered after doing what Muslims are commanded to do- bring peace and be peace. Why had I had that dream on Sunday? What was that?

I love you sister Bhutto. May Allah bless you with the peace that you fought and died for, and then some.

Peace and Love

Queenie