It's like freaking Camelot around here in that the rain never falls 'til after sundown. If I wake up in the night, it is raining and when I get up, it is dripping still from the leaves. If it were just a bit cooler, it would indeed be a most congenial spot.
So. Dreams. Are other people's dreams the most boring thing in the world?
Let me sum the one that woke me up at five-thirty this morning thusly:
Went out with husband to hear band with a friend in it. First thing I did- knock guitars off of guitar stands. REALLY huge, big, major no-no. Luckily, no instruments harmed. Tried to order a Tanqueray and Tonic at a very crowded outdoor bar. Bartender, older sassy woman says, "Girl after my own heart. But why don't you get the red gin? It's five dollars for ten drinks. Horrified, I say, "No thanks." It takes forever to get the drink. Men hit on me. Ugly men with few teeth. I keep looking for my husband. Can't find him. Drink finally arrives in front of me. "That'll be forty dollars," says the bartender. I freak and decided that'll be the only drink I'm having that night. Of course I can't find my money. Finally I do. Then I leave the bar where I'm sitting but forget the drink. I am carrying coffee. Somehow I find I am in a dark alley, filled with scary punky gothy kids. One makes threatening advances, picks me up. I say, "I AM HANK'S MOTHER!" He takes me to the door of the bar and gently sets me back inside. I can see Mr. Moon but he can't see me and can't hear me. I realize I'd left my drink behind. I go to see if it's still there. It is not but they put it in a plastic jar behind the bar and instead of a lime slice, it's filled with soggy orange slices. "You won't replace it?" I ask the bartender. She looks at me as if I'm crazy, pours the sluck into a glass, hands it to me.
I am frantic to find my husband. I go into the restroom to collect my stuff which somehow I have left there. I pick up my canvas bag, clothes and books fall out. Someone says, "Why do you have so many books?"
"Because if the Apocalypse happens and I have no books, I am shit out of luck," I say.
The bartender laughs at me. She is on break.
"I only go out about once a year," I tell her.
"I can see why," she says.
Never found husband. Never heard band.
Who can name the most fears/anxieties/neurosis involved in this dream? Oh, there was more. But that's enough.
Anyway, la-di-dah and it's time to get ready for the dentist.
Jessie's coming in tonight. I must mop the kitchen floor because soon it will have enough soil upon it to grow corn in there.
It is gray. Leaves are still dripping. Hen house needs de-pooping.
I wonder if I should go to a bar tonight.