Rain

Horrific, violent dream last night. I won't describe the plot (which was elaborate and surreal) or dwell on the style (which was vivid and claustrophobic) since this is a family show, but believe you me, it was fucking awful.

I woke L up and told her all about it, because who doesn't want to hear an intricate, shockingly bloody tale of mass murder in the middle of the night?

I don't know how long it took her to fall back asleep after listening to her boyfriend go on for ten minutes about murdering everyone in sight, but it took me at least an hour. She seemed to think the dream was caused by my having watched It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown before bed. I have no proof that it wasn't.

Lying awake, it somehow seemed like a good idea to read a short story narrated by a man who wakes up to find himself undergoing an autopsy. He'd been bitten by a rare and poisonous snake, and was still alive and alert (though paralyzed) and medical incompetence had pronounced him dead. This story was not written by the damned and bedeviled Edgar Allan Poe, though it could have been.

Autumn rocks.

~~~~~~~

In more cheerful news, a google search for an all-black Christmas tree has produced some promising leads.

It's raining here (thanks to Tropical Storm Ida) and I'm listening to Etta James sing Stormy Weather.