I know listening to someone else's dreams is about as interesting as hearing their horoscope. But the dream I had last night was one I wanted to write. Not that it is so compelling but just vivid enough to remember. I also wanted to try the whole hiding-my-text feature I just discovered from reading LJ's FAQs.

I sold our house. I successfully moved out but discovered I had left all of the pictures, paintings and other oddities that hang on our walls. Left behind was my Prisoner Of War Camp sign from WWII, the antique map of the Southwest states, a drawing my mother did, a painting Billy found of Venice that hangs in our living room, and all of the other things that graced our walls.

I went back to the house, now somehow divided into two residences, and asked if I could have my stuff back. I was greeted by a nice young woman. As we were talking, all hell broke loose on the street. People running everywhere in panic. They were covering their faces and coughing. "It's an attack!' someone screamed. I surmised a chemical weapon had been detonated. As I joined the running and the panic, I realized the chemicals in the air were nothing but soap bubbles.

Is this just garden variety homeland security anxiety? The fear of losing our home? Nostalgia for soap bubbles?

Current Mood: gloomy
Current Music: MSNBC