Rocks and mud and high heeled shoes

Dear Heart,
Now that the days are so much longer, I seem to dread night coming even more. I want time to hover in that twilight moment, when everything is poised to happen, but never quite plunges into movement.
For some reason, I've been too afraid to sleep without these little night-lights beside me. It reminds me too much of last year, when I was convinced a devil was sat on the end of my bed, waiting for me to open my eyes.
Dreamed, for some reason, about my lecturer for Pre-Raphaelite Art. She'd had the baby that's been making her swell like cakes, and we were clambering over sharp rocks together. Her baby looked like a little doll. Now that I'm awake I feel a strange affinity for this lady, one that I never had before. I'm worried about her, or something very like worry. Silly old me!
Love, Lydia x