I had end-of-the-world dreams last night of Walking Dead variety, set in one of my dream-brain's stock locations. (It's as if my sleeping self decided it had already put enough effort into set-building and would rather focus on other dream elements from now on.) This one was the brick-terraced garden that at first looks like an over-built university campus, but opens in the back to endless cultivated rolling hills crisscrossed with barbed wire fences beneath a huge set of power lines. I don't remember much about the dream, but do remember a single scene in a greenhouse, when almost-thirteen-year-old Ty Handsome the Wonderdog leapt onto a shelf as high as my shoulders just so he could lick my face. Which is, when you think about it, a pretty nice thing to remember from a dream about rampaging zombies.
And it's worlds better than the dream I had last week--the dream in which I'd been shot in the head, and was stumbling around in search of help. Everyone I met acknowledged that yes, I had been shot in the head. But the usual response was, "But you look like you're doing all right, so no problem," and a return to whatever had been occupying the person before I arrived.
This is my second week of vacation. Most of the first was spent catching up on everything domestic. I scrubbed my house top to bottom, end to end--a task I tend to do in autumn rather than spring--then reorganized some stuff in the garage, purged extra stuff, and sorted out financial information. I did also write a little, but not too much.
That's what this week is for.
Well, it's also for hosting my nephews on Monday and Tuesday so they can see their father--who can rarely find time in his currently-unemployed=but-supported-by-pr
So... That's it. Nothing all that exciting. Not even a 2013 retrospective or 2014 goal-setting. Maybe I'll get to that later.