Weird dreams

I had trouble sleeping last night, with my husband in Boston. I kept hearing things that I couldn't quickly identify, like crackling noises. Of course, we have set up such a wind tunnel in our house, with the ceiling fan and a couple of floor fans, that there is no telling what was blowing around. Additionally, if Simon feels threatened, as he does when one of us is gone, he stays in and around the bedroom, and he has a tendency to make little noises, including licking things that might crackle a bit. I have those giant plastic storage bags under the bed, for instance.

Perhaps because of that, I had odd dreams about a high school reunion. There were several people in my dream that I had gone to high school with, but for the most part, I was "reuniting" with people I don't think I know or have ever met. In reality, that's what a reunion tends to be. After all, if we think we "know" someone because we were in school with that person until we were 18, and then 40+ years have passed, with all those life experiences and maturing events, then we'll just discover that we do not know that person, nor does that person know us. And maybe we never knew that person, since teenagers are much better secret keepers than people think they are. Sorry for the convoluted thoughts. That's about the best I can do this morning.

My right leg is still aching. What I need to do is walk, but I'm such a coward. I don't know if it's a holdover from my childhood, when my paranoid mother would not allow us out of her sight, with all sorts of dire warnings of evil that would happen, or if it is just the way I am. But I am not a brave person. I don't like to walk alone or travel alone or even shop alone. Almost weekly our local news reports that someone has just gone missing. "She was taking a walk and never came home" seems to be the refrain. Of course, it is usually an ex boyfriend or spouse who has killed the woman and buried her somewhere, but sometimes the answer to the mystery is never found. I know I can't hide here in the house, but inevitably, when my husband is gone overnight, I make sure I have enough food to last while he's gone, and the cat and I just hole up and "nest."

This area seems to be rife with weird people. Just on today's news, there was a report of a man who has been arrested for sexually abusing his pit bull. I don't know whether to gag at the animal abuse or kind of admire any man with the guts to expose his naked genitals in the presence of a pit bull. Poetic justice would have been if the dog had turned on him and played "fetch the stick," so to speak.

And then there was the sicko woman who reconnected with the son she'd given up for adoption. He was 14 and she was 30-something, so of course, she had to have sex with him. A: it's your son. You don't have sex with your own son. B: he was only 14. You don't have sex with children. and C: You are one sick person that you would even have considered A or B.

I told myself I'd get some painting done today, so before the day is over, I'd better get started. Today's photo is Boston Harbor, sent to me by my spouse.