Had a dream last night that I had a short story published in some obscure literary journal, something like North Dakota Journal of Literature and Kitty Cats and the story I submitted was called, "I Am Snowing." Can't exactly remember what it was about; a sister/brother story maybe? I do remember that I liked it and was happy that it got published. I know I stole that phrase from something I read once. I keep thinking it's from Smilla's Sense of Snow but probably only because of the title of the story. I also have this idea that it's related to a Milan Kundera story somehow. Anyway, somewhere I have read a story where the characters talk about how they're feeling in terms of the weather. I've also been reading Margaret Atwood's collection of related short stories, Moral Disorder and she writes a lot about what it's like to forget about being a child. One story is titled something like "The Headless Horseman" and is about the narrator at age 13 working hard to make this costume of the HH for Halloween and then, once it's done, she can't remember why she was so excited about doing it in the first place. I know that feeling. I have vivid memories of worrying about what it would be like to "grow up." How horrible it would be to give up my imaginary games, my love of dolls, the way I could get lost in this pretend world. I knew I would miss that.