death doesn't make a sound but life is loud as hell

I dreamed I was standing on my old stage conducting a workshop on how to fly.  Ironic part was that I couldn't remember how to do it.

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Ellen's daughter has died.  This information washes, overwashes like the incoming tide, and recedes.  Brackish words choke my airway.
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I have accepted a new job.  This job has holes in the drywall and a stained carpet and expectations of unknowable heights, and I want to lead into it with HOPE.  The simple fact is that my entire perspective on everything changed in 48 hours.


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There may be a requirement to participate in a workplace investigation, and I do not wish to participate.  I have no certainty of my rights in this sort of situation.  Can one refuse to give evidence against someone with whom one has a close relationship?  And should one do this?  It's positively Machiavellian.


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