N is for…

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Noise. Someone’s music is always someone else’s noise. Yesterday, I was tortured by the bass-line of a quasi neighbor’s (across the back fence two or three houses down) party. I wanted to nap, but was kept awake by the incessant booming vibrations, perfectly audible through several closed doors and the whirring of an air conditioner.

Also, at dinner with friends, which was nice, there was an extremely loud rockabilly band. Yodelling should not be allowed within the city limits. Even when there is beer available.

Nightmares – I haven’t had any scary dreams lately, but recently I’ve had a series of vivid dreams about a house and a yard, and some kind of guide who is oddly reminiscent of Christopher Lloyd as Reverend Jim from Taxi. No, I’m not taking narcotics. In my dreams, the guide is a homeless guy who likes to sit on the plant ledge. I can’t decide if he’s sinister or harmless, but he’s a very real presence.

Last night, or rather, this afternoon, I dreamed I was riding my bike, too far, over a mountain road, and past the Vampire’s compound. They invited me for tea, and did a timestop to keep the sun over my head, but then I realized time had stopped, and I’d have to ride my bike in the dark. A spell to command sunlight turned the entire compound into a fireball, that was oddly satisfying. And then I coasted all the way home. Only now that I’m writing this to I recognize the street as Usona Road in Mariposa. Dreams are weird that way.

Novels: I just finished a novel by someone I know. I’d beta-read the first few chapters, years ago, and then lost touch with her. She apparently self-published last year, and the novel is quite good. (See Zenitopia for my review, probably tomorrow.

Night time. Sleep time. I’m nodding off.

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