about right

We're heading to Europe on Friday and I'm trying to get everything done so I don't have to think about it while I'm there. A happy madness? Perhaps.

Gideon did well in Stockholm last year and I'm hoping it'll be even better this year now that he's at the manly and serious age of 5. Like last year, we're tagging along with Chris who has work and conferences. He works, Gideon and I party. It's awesome. We'll be in Dublin, Amsterdam, Maastricht and perhaps a day trip to Brussels because it's really close and I've dreamed of there several times.

Gotta follow the dream.

This weekend I dreamed I was a professional psychic and sold books and cosmetics from my office--and gave manicures. I woke up and thought, yeah, that sounds about right.

Last night I had a long, winding dream that involved spaceships, pirates, gifts from a lady poet friend, Santa and a gift of a cut-out bear on a paper bag on a stick that enraged me to exclaim, "Oh great, this reminds me of my distance to the masculine, how I never really connected and how no man has ever really been there for me." The guy who gave me the gift, Dr. Daniel Jackson (from Stargate), looked at me like I was a total asshole for saying that. He also gave me and some guy recordings of what we used to sound like way back when -- the guy's music was all AC/DC type stuff, but mine was this smooth, eery and beautiful lady voice accompanied with electronic music. I thought yeah, that sounds about right. Then I was on a bus driving through Duquesne and saw that one of the last operating stores, a hardware store, was closed. Someone suggested I open my own hardware store and I was like, um, hello and go against Home Depot? The bus dropped me off next to my grandmother's house. It was supposed to be empty, but when I got to the porch, the front door was wide open. I was frightened and called for my father. A plain-clothed policeman came instead. I think he was following me to make sure I didn't flee to Europe.