Yawn

I woke up cleanly, at a reasonable time, to sun bright enough to mimic laterness.  I’d been having a strange dream, featuring Mike Fernez as a vet, and a neurotic dog he and another guy dismissed as being fine.  Last I knew, Mike was an electrician.

Before the dog part, though, I was in a two story house on a barren lot, looking like the beginnings of a slash and burn housing development.  Mike’s sister, who seemed to be one and the same as my sister, offered to do a couple loads of laundry for me.  She had started one and disappeared.  To my surprise, Mike cam e along, annoyed that the washer was occupied.  I checked the status of my first load, told him it wouldn’t be long, and pointed out how to use the machine.

That morphed into being on the second floor, something to do with a bedroom, and there being a ledge outside from which you could climb in the window.  I did something on the ledge, and while I was getting down some other way, I pointed out I’d left the window open and Mike thought it was a good idea, as he’d have no problem getting in that way.  I briefly wondered to myself if it was a good idea, since others could get in that way, but then I decided it was too high up and too unlikely in that area.

Then I was in a cellar waiting room, apparently in the same building, with a dog.  The dog apparently had been Mary Coffee’s and then taken in by my father, or vice-versa, and I am not sure why I’d been charged with taking it to the vet.  The dog was absolutely nuts, and was also a mottled mutt, medium in size and brown with a splotched back of many shades.  A little like a darker Rufferto with a less pointy nose, with attributes that could be described as collie-like and cocker spaniel-like, but not confined to that.

The vets dismissed the idea that anything was wrong or could be done about the dog, but apparently were willing to check again if I transcribed the notes I had that were in a tiny spiral notebook.  So I laid on the floor of the waiting area on my belly, writing a single line of text across one dollar bill, then continuing onto another.  I think this was interrupted by my father and stepmother arriving to talk about the dog and being surprised nothing was really wrong.  Somewhere in there the dream ended or segued.  It must have been logical, because it didn’t feel wrong to wake up.

Trouble is, within two minutes of getting up, it felt like I should have gone on sleeping, and I am in that waking state that’s so close to a sleep state that closing my eyes can launch another dream and something like writing flows exceptionally as long as the state remains.  It’s the “works best first thing in the morning” state.  Which I can feel breaking up as I type.

I have to go do errands that require a lot of time and energy, so waking up early and thoroughly is far better than being zombie-like.  It’s also an excellent day to have plent of leftovers.  There’s exceptional chili from Friday night.  From last night it’s chicken in gravy with dumplings, which is a TBA post itself, stuffing and lima beans.  Just one serving of the beans, of which Valerie devoured two servings and for all I know some of Sadie’s as well.

Okay, off I go.  Maybe one more quick post before I do.

Posted by on 10/28 at 09:03 AM

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