Don't you hate it when you come up with the absolute perfect joke, but then forget it before you can write it down? Yeah, me too. That happened this morning; thus, you're stuck with this, poor things. I think it has been observed before that misery produces good literature, while happiness produces crappy literature. This has been a happy couple of days, so cut me a break. I got to meet my grandniece, who is a perfect little angel at four months old. And miraculously, the dialysis facility was able to get Dad in and out about three months early, so he was able to participate in Margaret's family's Thanksgiving celebration and meet his great-granddaughter, too. A good time was had by all, except for the losing football teams. So yay.
Oddly, with all this happiness going on, I still generated one astonishing nightmare. For once it was even set in Columbia in my own car. But I did manage to move some streets around. And introduce a mountain suddenly appearing in the center of town. Which I, or rather my car, then hurtled down backwards. Did you know that putting the car in low gear backwards doesn't slow it down, but instead speeds it up? Of course not! It makes no sense at all! But it did in the dream, and boy was I ever alarmed. (For some reason, my feet wouldn't reach the brake.) I don't know if I was somehow saved or if I just woke up. Regardless, I'm sure the married friend I was driving with will be very relieved.
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