Poking My Head Out for a Sec

I've been in self-imposed, work-induced exile for so long, I have no idea what's going on with anyone. I have to change that soon. I don't know when. Last night I dreamed my publicist kept filling up my inbox with commitments. It was empty when I woke up, but that's just an invitation.

Tuesdays kind of suck. I didn't work at the day job as late as I normally do, but even so, I'm behind. But I guess I'd be a lot behinder if I'd worked an hour and a half longer.

My DVR is dying. It's one of the crappy DirecTV refurbished ones they send free, and it was refurbished in 2007, and it gobbles up chunks of recorded shows if you don't watch them in, like, one day. Which pisses me off because I won't be able to watch this season's Supernatural episodes again until the DVDs come out. I have to call to get a replacement DVR, but we're SO behind on recorded shows because I've been working too much. Maybe we can catch up during hiatus.

I have to say, I'm really enjoying Pan Am, a lot more than I expected. We like Unforgettable, too, mainly because of Poppy Montgomery. Her ability is cool, but other than that, it's just like any other cop show. The supporting cast is distinctive, though, and has potential to grow on us like Ryan and Esposito did on Castle. I originally thought them bland.

Bones is back, and I liked the premiere—the new dynamic between Booth and Brennan has made the show fresh again—but I can't stop thinking about how they cheated the audience. I'm a latecomer and a casual fan, so how must the rabid fans feel about never having gotten that first REAL kiss, never being able to see them fall over the edge into real love?

I'm gonna stop there because I could talk TV all day. LOL I have a ton of work to do!

Tomorrow, I'll be a guest at Leah Braemel's blog, talking about... *digs around* ...the kinds of books we read and how we choose what to read next. Come tell me what you've been reading that's good so I can add to my TBR list! :)

Thursday I'll be doing a speed date at Romance Junkies. Each person gets to ask two questions.

Then I have a regular post at Romance Junkies' main blog on Friday!

Floods, but No Drowning

I've been dreaming a lot about floods lately. Not surprising, considering Irene inundating the east coast, and more recently, Lee giving Pennsylvania the worst flooding in nearly 40 years.

Still, odd, because we weren't personally affected by the flooding. My old employer was—15 feet of water in the basement—and near my inlaws, Swatara Creek went 20 feet over flood stage (which is 7 feet). But our house/town, and my work/town, were fine. I didn't even get any water in my basement this time. *knocks on wood*

But here it's river and creek flooding. My dreams have been about ocean flooding. Not coastal...well, the first dream was coastal. I was visiting somewhere, maybe Rhode Island, and getting ready to come home, and my car got washed away and stuck on a sand dune in a pile of wreckage. I climbed down the side of the dune/wreckage and pulled it free (with my left hand). At first I thought the rear end was smashed and it was driveable, but when I pulled it free and dropped it to the sidewalk, it had key parts missing. Like wheels. So I thought, "This is stupid. Just wake up." And I did.

Last night, though...

The dream started at work. I was supposed to be working on the schedule going forward for all the new people (5, when we only have 2), but I messed it up. Then it was time to go. One of the new people was riding with me. We waited for my husband, who was driving around from the back lot, and it took too long so I decided he'd left already.

So I was driving pretty fast down the street. I saw a woman on her front lawn take a picture, aiming down the street and kind of up at the sky. I wondered what the heck she was taking. We just had pretty basic cloud cover.

Then a piece of the sky collapsed. It made me jump. I'd only seen it out of my peripheral vision, and then the sky looked whole again, like the clouds had sealed up the hole. But there had been hard matter that broke out of that hole, like snow falling off a roof, and that was weird.

Wait, it gets weirder!

My car was speeding along, and I realized the entire sky was solid. And then the road was in a giant tunnel, and pieces of the roof had broken out, and I could see light through them. The tunnel was getting narrower and narrower, but we were flying, and we were goign tcome out the end before any roof fell on us or the entire tunnel collapsed.

And then we did. We crashed into the ocean. I had time to mentally freak that the ocean was in Pennsylvania. I saw waves and a whale's tail, which told me there was no modifying this situation so we could get out of it, and I had another person in my car. All this happened in an eighth of a second, and then I slammed awake.

But as soon as I closed my eyes, it was there again, in all its detail. I was able to push it away, but the imagery and sensation lingers.

I'm pretty sure I know what it means, but I'm curious to hear other interpretations. Ready...GO! :)

Theme: Stupidity

Here's a tip: If you put the word "Spam" in the title of a blog post, it will attract spam. Who knew spam-bots were that dumb?

Who knew I was? It took me a whole month to figure out that I should just close comments on that post. *eyeroll*

I don't really like the new Blogger interface. Part of it is just familiarity, and I know I'll get used to it. But before, all the important stuff was right there, one click away. Now it's in multiple drop-down menus and you have to hunt for it. That's not an improvement. Not thrilled with quirks in composing posts, either. Very annoyed, actually.

This morning, I woke up at 6:15ish, and thought (with a long mental groan) "Ohhhh, it's Tuesday, and I have to work a double, and train, and...wait. It's only Sunday, AND I don't have to work tomorrow!" So I went back to sleep for two-and-a-half more hours. Nice!

I used to think I had long, intense, vivid, exhausting dreams when I wasn't writing. But I've BEEN writing, nonstop for weeks and weeks. Okay, revising, but isn't that the same thing? Apparently not, or I broke my brain, or the correlation was never valid in the first place. The dreams have gotten more and more vivid lately, and I wake up physically battered and just as tired as when I went to bed.

On Friday, I told our trainee that when I first started working there, I had dreams that they'd changed the information on the fee slip and I didn't know what I was supposed to be doing anymore, or they'd moved everything around in my work area, and I'd spend hours trying to set up one patient while other patients backed up around me.

That was apparently stupid, because that night, I dreamed they'd rearranged the entire area again, in a manner that was not at all beneficial for either the patients or the staff. The difference in this dream was that I wasn't alone. The regular therapy person and the trainee were both back there with me, just as annoyed and concerned. :)

I also dreamed the other night about Stephen King trying to give me a list of his SF-romance series. I know, right?! He's so pushy. ;)

Okay, that's enough randomness today. I am now off to clean/organize my office in an attempt to unclog my brain. What are YOU up to this holiday weekend?

My Brain is Weird

The dream started with me getting into an elevator. There was one other person, plus a courier with his bike, and we had to maneuver a little to all fit. He pressed 4. We pressed 2. The elevator went to 4. We pressed 2 again. It went to 1. We pressed 2 again. The elevator went sideways.

Then it went up on a diagonal and left the building, and we were climbing over the city, as if we were still in an elevator shaft. But there was no structure around it, and in fact no elevator, I suppose, since I could see everything around me (I think London). So I decided it was magic.

NPH and Dryers

I dreamed this morning that Neil Patrick Harris was trying to sell me a dryer at Montgomery Ward.

It was really Neil Patrick Harris, too, not some appliance sales guy who looked like him. I was surprised, of course, I didn't think he'd need to have a job like that, but then, I wouldn't think Aldis Hodge needed a Taco Bell commercial, either.

Anyway. He was really sweet and helpful and eager to sell me the dryer I really wanted but then I found out it was $1300 and I can't afford that. So I never bought a dryer, but I did get to hang out with NPH outside the job because he was lonely and friendly and that's always my fantasy with celebrities I like--that we can hang out like friends. No, that we can BE friends.

Which was why the Salute to Supernatural last year was so awesome. I feel like a geeky fangirl all the time, but Richard Speight Jr. and Gabriel Tigerman did not treat us like that, they hung out with us and talked to us like we're interesting people. Gabe even came back to the table after being lured away by others. Twice!

We're just over two weeks away from this years convention. Can you believe I didn't have it on my calendar? I'm finally getting excited. Still annoyed that Jared and Jensen are going to every friggin' other convention in the world but can't come see us. But they've posted the schedule and it's enhanced over last year. Bigger and better dessert party, official star presence at the karaoke party, including Richard. I don't know if I'll try to talk to him this year. I can't think of anything to talk about except how he told us to watch Open Water 2 because we see Eric Dane's butt and we actually see a whole lot more of Richard's! Or at least his character's.

Megan is a lot better at the small talk than I am.

Anyway.

Part of last night's dream was the dryer, which is going out and I really want a new one before it dies, because being without one for even a little while will suck, but we're not going to buy a new one until we have to. The problem is, I'm sure, the belt, which is replaceable but not by us, and it seems ridiculous to pay a repair person a few hundred dollars to fix a dryer that's 12+ years old. A new dryer would save us electricity $ in the long run, too.

I had an annual exam today that I had to reschedule. I thought they'd give me a hard time, but for the first time EVER they didn't. So the rest of my day looks like this:

1. Shower
2. Client edits
3. WIP
4. Toy Story 3 with kids and Nana
5. Dinner in the food court
6. City Islanders soccer

Since my phone call to the doctor's office went the opposite as expected, I'm being full-on positive today. I will get the edits done, write more than I did yesterday (10 page) on my WIP, get a request for a full manuscript, and have NO STORMS anywhere near the soccer game.

What's your day look like?

Okay, WHAT?!

I had really weird dreams this morning.

First, I woke up around 5 or so, remembering that I had to make sure I was up and dressed and the carport clear for the A/C service guy at 7:30 this morning. Then a while later I remembered that it was Sunday.

So then I dreamed all this stuff I don't remember because I neglected to write this in the morning when it was all VERY fresh, but I do remember some parts.

1. I was at MJ Fredrick's house, and Trish Milburn was there at one point. MJ had a cool house, colonial in style, which I somehow doubt is the norm in San Antonio.

2. They had made TONS of food for a party and Trish kept making me sample stuff. It was really good food. Lots of dips, and a dessert thing that was like two pieces of cracker candy with some whipped creamy type stuff in the middle.

3. A bunch of people started crowding the house, just random visitors, including Fran, who was one of my mother's best friends, but who died over a decade ago. Then he wasn't Fran but some other guy.

4. MJ had a big hole in her counter top, and had covered it with a big white cutting board, and I knocked it askew and it fell into the cabinet underneath, breaking some colorful china thing. I didn't tell her.

5. I said "San Antonio" a lot.

So what the heck is up with THAT?

Stupid Dreaming Thing

So you know how I said the other day that I was still dreaming heavily, despite writing going so well?

I was going to post (and forgot) that on Sunday I woke up blissful, because while I knew I'd been dreaming vividly and intensely, I was not exhausted and I couldn't remember a single detail of the dreams. I was quite happy!

But then I came home. And I didn't write yesterday. And the last two mornings, dragging myself out of bed after the very obnoxious alarm (I need to get a new one!) interrupted REM sleep, I've been cursing my brain.

Seriously, is it too much to ask for a few nights of solid, real sleep?
On the writing front...

I've been dying to get back to my books, but have let life interfere. Workmen at the house, grocery shopping, cleaning, and other obligations needed my attention after four days away. But I'm poised and ready and will try to get some done tonight.

In the meantime, I've discovered a drawback to having three WIPs (works in progress). Taking Action needs a lot cut and redone. No problem. I had an idea and was going to start over, then realized it would make a better sequel, so back to plan A for revision, but even though I knew what to do, it's hard. So hey, book 1 is going so well, I'm just going to work on that! Until, I supposed, I decide that's hard, too.

Oh, well. That's the way it goes!

Retreat Report, Day One Down

Got 8,638 words yesterday, interrupted by lunch, dinner, new people arriving, and general silliness. Talked about conflict issues with three different people. That must be this year's struggle theme!

My words were split between two manuscripts. First chapter of one, most of first chapter of the other. Today I'll finish the second first chapter and start the first chapter of the third book, then cycle between them with a goal of 10k.

BUT that will be interrupted by lunch and dinner and Supernatural. I have been studiously avoiding anywhere that could mention it, but still got word that it was awesome. I am DYING. The download is huge and therefore slow, and idiot me forgot to turn off my power saver so it stopped while we were at breakfast.

*jitters and bounces and tries to focus*

So I have this dreaming thing. I've mentioned it before, I'm sure. When I'm not writing for long stretches, my dreams get more and more vivid and detailed and I wake up exhausted, as if I've lived them. (I keep thinking, "There's a story there," and then I think, "Yeah, it's called Exit Light by Megan Hart, and it's available the week of June 7 at Carina Press. Also, a movie with Leonardo DiCaprio.")

So yesterday I wrote. A lot. And it's good stuff. I'm really proud of it. So you'd think my creative conscious would settle down a little and let me have a quiet night, or at least quiet dreams.

But no. Most of the night I dreamed about work, woke up, realized they weren't real projects and I could relax, and went back to sleep. That would be "normal" if, again, they weren't so detailed and vivid.

But then came the later dreams, the ones in the last few hours of sleep. I can't describe all of it, but man. I can instantly call up images and details. If you've seen Iron Man 2, you remember the scene with the car, how it got sliced? There was a car like that in my dream. Gabriel Tigerman (Andy from Supernatural, and the guy ordering the cowboy burger in that current restaurant commercial) was in the car, and fell out, while it was on an overhead rail hundreds of feet above the city. I didn't see what happened. I apparently had TiVo in my head, because, shocked, I stopped, rewound, noticed he hit an antenna of a vehicle, apparently decided that saved him, and moved on.

There were gangs, and I was house-sitting or working in someone's house or something. My husband was in the dream for a while—apparently, I miss him. Then, at the end of the dream, everything was about to fall apart. Someone was making a speech that, at the end, would set the world on fire. The gang lord was helping people, and I was a cop, running through the streets in size 12 steel-toed boots (not easy, especially when you're short), abandoning my post with my only goal getting to my teenage daughter. I ripped off my gun and badge because they were hindering my running (but I kept them because they'd be needed). It was a great movie ending, with the bad guy doing good and the good guy turning her back on need. But as the speech was coming to an end, my alarm went off. And I woke up exhausted.

So now I'm all WTF? Writing is supposed to ease this stuff! Hopefully, my brain just needs a couple of days to catch up. Which means I'd better get to writing, stat!

Luckily, Supernatural still needs three hours to download. *sigh*

Disappointment and Victory

I got some bad news this morning. It was business, and it's not a bad thing in the long run, but it's a blow and a setback and has left me feeling a bit adrift and at loose ends today.

BUT.

Then I played Wii Sport Resort, Swordplay Showdown.

I've been trying for MONTHS to get past level 18. MONTHS. I once spent 2 hours trying. I've gone long stretches without playing, but I'm sure I've logged many, many hours at it.

And it's kind of metaphorical, when compared to this setback I had. You see, I had certain strategies that let me get to level 18, but they failed at that point. Sometimes they failed immediately, sometimes I got to 91% (as in, I've defeated 91% of my opponents) before they failed. But I never, ever got through. I even went all the way back to the beginning once, to rebuild my score, get it as high as possible, hopefully giving me more strength/power to defeat my opponents. But nope, it didn't work.

There was a strategy I knew I needed to employ, but never got the hang of it. My brain and muscles were too trained in the old way. Today, after a bunch of failures, I made it work, and I got through level 18!

Man, you should have heard me shouting. LOL But it doesn't end there. Of course, I had to move on, and level 19 only took me a few tries. Level 20 was harder, with far more aggressive opponents, but I kept trying, and finally broke through and won. I am now Swordmaster! :)

So the lesson: Patience, new strategies, and calculated aggressiveness can lead to success. I think I'm going to have to employ that elsewhere.

Sunday Stuff

Dream Update:

Last night I was an intern working for editor Fred Kirsch of Patriots Football Weekly only his office wasn't in Gillette Stadium in Foxboro, Massachusetts, it was at the beach in South Carolina. He had three turtles in his jacuzzi bathtub.

But the horrible/weird part was that I was driving on a big bridge high over deep water and saw a school bus flip sideways off the bridge. Something else happened that sidetracked me before I could do anything, so later I guess my subconscious felt guilty because I saw two other kinds of buses deliberately drive off bridges, and it was apparently in solidarity for two drivers who had died the week before because of negligent maintenance or something.

~~~~~~~~~

The booksigning went really well yesterday. Because I'm not as good as some of my fellow authors (not the ones at the event) at total pushiness and forcing my books on people who clearly don't have an interest, I only sold one. We had fairly steady walk-through, though, and altogether they took in enough to donate $500 to the Lebanon Library, so that was worth it.

I barely got home alive, though, I was so tired (despite getting enough sleep all week, it's clearly not quality sleep). I dozed off on the couch for the 45 minutes before I had to take Number One and her friend to the movies, and while I did, Frisbee dozed with me.



After, of course, kneading my face along with the pillow and grooming my hairstyle into one more to her liking:



The Time-Traveler's Wife was pretty good. (Mild Spoilers)

I haven't read the book, but I bet it's better. The movie had weaknesses--part of it jumped from one unimportant travel to another, and even the "important" scenes felt short and episodic. There were allusions to things that made him travel, like alcohol and being in a TV store. These allusions were contradictory to the visual evidence that he was mostly passive in the whole thing. There were a lot of unanswered questions. He had a genetic anomaly that he could pass on to a child, but where did he get it?

There were strengths, too, mostly between Henry and Clare. When they first meet as adults, it's hot. I adore Rachel McAdams, and she did a great job. I loved that even when traveling caused big problems, Henry never apologized. It wasn't his fault, and he couldn't control it. Other than his frequent absences, though, there was a dearth of meat until the pregnancy issues started. I wanted more with Dr. Kendrick, more of the science of it, more showing of how he got to be the sophisticated, wordly man who first appeared to Clare when she was 6, instead of the helpless one she meets as an adult. It's hard to pack all that into a movie, and what they did pack in was good enough to make me cry.

Warning for those like me who hate to be blindsided:

This is not a feel-good movie. Though, at least, probably most of us guess that going in.

We saw a preview for The Blind Side, I think it's called, where Sandra Bullock plays a real-life rich mom who takes in a very underprivileged boy. The damn TRAILER made me tear up! This one will undoubtedly be feel-good, at the end.

Two weeks left of summer. Two weeks left on my two deadlines. I'd better get to work.

Craziness

Okay, that's not craziness. It's just an official "Up to Speed" recap reel. But look at the end! Looklooklook! It's the new title card, I think! And I LOVE it.

Interestingly, the background looks very much like the sky in my dream last night (one of them), and that's kind of freaky. Or crazy.

It used to be that when I wasn't writing for long stretches, I'd have these heavy-duty, vivid dreams. Exhausting ones, where I didn't feel like I'd slept at all, like I was doing the stuff in my dreams instead of resting. Once I started writing regularly, though, they subsided back to normal vague random brain-firings.

Not anymore.

Though I've been writing, and very hard, my dreams just seem to be getting worse. This morning I had these two doozies:

First, Number One was trying to fix or change an outlet in her room, but it wasn't going right. She hadn't turned off the breaker for her room, so I went down to do it. When I tried, it caused an EMP above the house. A brilliant white-purple flash of light that coalesced and burst. I did it three times, then tried to turn off the main breaker, which seemed to do fine, except stuff in the house still worked (electrically speaking).

I went outside to see what was over the house, because authorities were showing up. There were swirling clouds and flashing lights (in the dark sky), like the government had sent a satellite over us, and at one point I thought I'd actually signaled aliens.

Then the dream abruptly changed. I was back at the beach, though it wasn't Myrtle but somewhere else. I'd gotten separated from J and the kids and was walking on the street just off the beach, talking to some friends. The tide was in, and suddenly a big wave soared in and broke against the sea wall. But it didn't recede, it just covered the beach.

I couldn't reach J by cell phone, he'd forwarded to his work phone, which had a recording that he was out of the office for a week. I kept calling and calling as I wandered the street, looking, terrified that they'd been on the sand. Then the waves kept flowing inland, until I was being pushed forward, like upright bodysurfing. A couple of kids near me said it was so cool, and I said "Yeah, except for the people who drowned." Then my subconscious reprimanded me, because I felt bad for pointing that horrible thing out to them.

I guess at some point J called me, because I was then in my former boss's house while I talked to him. I didn't ask about the kids! But after I got off the phone, I assumed he'd have said if they weren't with him and okay.

I don't remember why, maybe I was pushed under the house by the water and was kind of trapped, but I had to climb up inside the house. After I did, other people showed up, including John Locke, except the way he was acting, I figured it was that other guy from last season's finale (LOST, for those who don't watch it). I saw a guy in a mirror who wasn't really there, but who was, and I scowled and scolded him for being invisible.

Oh, and I'm not sure when it was, but at some point, I was on a residential city street and there was a cat in a tree, and a guy was acting like it was about to fall out, and I was gonna scoff and say it wasn't, because really, that doesn't happen. And then it did, but the woman I was with caught it. I didn't recognize her, but I think it was supposed to be Lori. So if anyone has a white and orange long-haired cat who is prone to treeing itself--it's okay. You can come pick it up during the next REM cycle.

The weird thing about that part (yeah, I know, like the whole thing isn't weird) is that there were food dishes hanging from strings tied to tree branches, and I was like, "do they entice the poor cat up there?" And there was a red plastic curvy slide-type thing, and I think the cat was supposed to slide down it. I realized it was attached to a special truck that looked like a fire truck but was just for rescuing cats. Except no one was manning it, they'd apparently gotten tired of trying and just left the poor cat to fall onto the sidewalk.

So there you have it. A peek inside the insanity of my subconscious.

What did you dream about last night?

Scary Dream

Last night, in my area of Pennsylvania, was trick-or-treating. Yeah, I know Halloween is today. Over sixteen years I've been living here, and I've never been able to find out why they do that.

Last night was also an episode of Supernatural set during Halloween. (I'll have my post up on that later--I wrote it on my Neo and it's upstairs and I'm lazy.) There were some scary things in the episode. Razor blades "in" candy, evoking warnings during fourth grade assemblies and every Halloween thereafter; boiling apple-bobbing water; zombies and ghosts and the demon-of-all-demons and smiting of entire towns.

But the dream I had last night was exponentially scarier than all of that.

I dreamed my daughter was involved with men.

She's 13. In the dream, she was wearing the clothes she wore to school yesterday and with her Halloween costume. We came home from somewhere, and there were two older guys waiting outside. They at first seemed totally adult, but I think their interest in Number One was TOO scary so my brain downgraded them to teenagers-but-at-least-16-because-they-drove. One of the guys kind of disappeared, like he left. The other one kind of pushed his way into the house before I could clear my confusion and address him. It wasn't aggressive, more like he belonged there. Number One knew him, even though I'd never seen him. It eventually came out that he was a driver for Studio 91. He got frustrated because he'd worked so long and hard to develop this gig he had with them, and I was trying to mess it all up. I explained that my kids didn't dance for Studio 91 anymore, but in the dream, Number Two had started the year there and quit, so that was how she wound up on his roster.

In the meantime, Number Two is in the living room listening to this OTHER adult guy play guitar for her. It was odd because it was like he was wooing her, though he wasn't doing anything overt, and Number Two's dance teacher was in the room with her. I think she was DeAnn Grady, though, a friend of mine from my writing chapter.

So this guy is flirting with Number One, being very familiar with her, making her laugh and stuff, but getting WAY too close. Finally, when he put his hand on her waist, I put mine on his shoulder and got in between them and said, "She's 13. Back off."

He did, and soon was gone, somehow, and I was trying to talk to Number One about him, and she was getting really shrill and upset about him and the other guy, and I kept trying to calm her down because there were strangers in the other room and I didn't want them to hear what my 13-year-old had gotten herself into. At the beginning, I almost said something about at least making a better choice. Then I stopped myself, and my mental analysis was actually kind of funny:

"So what if he looks like a sloppy Philip Seymour Hoffman? He's ambitious, created his own job and income, and I'm proud of her for not choosing on looks and superficialities."

But then we had the argument and I said "Have you done something?" and she burst into hysterical tears and I woke up.

I have NO idea what prompted this. In fifth grade, I asked her if she had a crush on anyone, and she didn't want to tell me. I pointed out that I'm a romance writer and I DIG this stuff, and ever since, we've had very open conversations. She thinks the boys in her school are idiots and dorks, for the most part, and really isn't interested. I don't think I have to worry until next year, when she's at the high school, has access to older, cuter, more mature, more assertive guys who will have no problem noticing that she doesn't look like a traditional freshman. Even then, I don't really have fear that she'll suddenly change her entire personality and way of looking at life and do something worth bursting into hysterical tears over. Not in the immediate future, anyway.

But that's the analytical assessment of things. Apparently, my subconscious has a different view.

I hope this isn't the start of a trend.

Crazy Head

Did you ever have so much to do that you can't wrap your mind around which thing to do first, and it feels like you're spinning in mental circles? That's how I feel right now. So I'm blogging. Like that will help.

I had a weird dream last night. Actually, I have weird dreams every night. I haven't written fiction, really, since the end of November. And when I'm not writing fiction, my brain vents the creative backup in vivid, powerful, tiring dreams. I'm talking full-color, full-action, full-plot dreams.

I don't remember most of last night's, except for this one part. I was in Utah, and following some people as we drove somewhere. I was driving, I think, some kind of open Jeep-type vehicle. My Jeep matched the colors around us--the pinkish tans of the buttes in Utah. The sky matched, too, everything a swirl of color in the late afternoon sun.

I looked to the left, and there was a curve of UFOs banking through the vast sky next to us. I think about four or five of them. The undersides of the ships made me think of the undersides of horseshoe crabs. Then I looked back at the road, to see if the people in front of me had seen the ships, and the road was curving. I wasn't.

So yep, we sailed over the edge. Into vast, miles-up nothingness, in a heavy car. But my kids were in the car, I think, so of course we weren't going to crash. Also of course, it wasn't that easy. First I was heading toward a road on another butte, and was going to land on it, and I knew we'd survive. But then, defying all the laws of physics, our trajectory changed. That kept happening. I'd see someplace we might safely land without dying, and tried to steer toward it (as if turning a steering wheel in a heavy Jeep in midair is going to do anything). And then we'd shift again, like the updrafts were strong enough to lift us and whirl us in another direction. Then we were over a city. There was a park, but nope, we got moved. Eventually, as we came down, I slowed us by being outside the car, apparently holding it, and I stuck my foot out to "trip" over a row of white lily-like flowers, which brought us down and kept the wind from blowing us to a less safe spot. Then I set the car down on the sidewalk.

Boy, was I pleased with myself! It was a nice, light landing, no one was hurt. They also didn't seem to notice my feat, however, and the whole thing together is pretty easy to interpret, I think. I am in control of my life, however outside forces try to change my trajectory, and where I land may not be the original site, or the best site, but it will be good nonetheless. I will be triumphant.

And no one will care.

Oh, well.

An Easy One, and Total Vindication!!!

I had a weird dream this morning. It was very vivid, and very intense, and I remembered all of it but couldn't post until now. Let's see if I still remember.

I was an employee for a pipe fittings company, and Joss Whedon was the owner. He was very particular about his molds, and there was one size we just couldn't find anywhere. Then we got married. I wasn't really myself in this part of the dream, I was an unmarried younger woman.

Then it changed. I had a flat tire. Since my friend Megan also had a flat tire (on her flatbed truck) and the repair person was supposed to go fix hers first, I went over there. But I didn't call first, and she had company. No, not that kind of company, it was a female friend hanging out. I was all embarrassed and stuff and insisted on not intruding, and went outside to wait. From that point on, Number Two was with me, and she kept asking why we had to wait, how much longer, etc.

Pipe fittings company = Don't Look Down by Suzanne Enoch, in which the rich hero was in the middle of acquiring such a thing. I finished reading that last night.

Joss Whedon = Firefly Visual Companion, Volume 2, which I started reading last night after I finished the other book.

Getting married = Hel-lo! He's Joss Whedon!

Flat tire = No idea. Possibly represents feeling stalled.

Megan's house/friend situation = I have ideas but discussing them here would make me too vulnerable and you'd all feel uncomfortable with the view into my psyche. Psychologists among you probably can figure it out. :)

Waiting = Number Two "got" a kitten for Christmas. We went on Monday to pick one, and did, and I filled out the paperwork, but they didn't get back to us until last night, so she was already bummed about waiting. It turns out there was already a hold on that cat, so we have to go back Saturday and see if they have a new crop of kittens. Number Two is not thrilled with the wait.

You know, some night I'd like to just sleep without dreaming.

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Today, while running all over town doing stupid errands that were only half rewarding, I listened to Pottercast. They got Jo Rowling on the show, and she talked about a lot of great tidbits and factoids. One thing they discussed was whether or not Harry is a horcrux.

She said for convenience, Dumbledore said Harry is the horcrux that Voldemort didn't intend to make, but that the description is not accurate. A horcrux is intentionally made--which is what I've been saying all along! \o/ Vindicated \o/

She also said the process to create a horcrux is a series of spells to prepare a vessel and split the soul. Since Voldemort did not prepare Harry as a vessel to house a piece of his soul, and since the rebound of the avarta kadavra curse tore Voldemort's damaged, vulnerable soul accidentally, and the fragment went to Harry as the nearest place where it would be safe, rather than being placed in him--it all amounts to Harry being something that's never been before, and never had a name, and is therefore NOT a horcrux!

I heartily advise any Harry Potter fan to head over to Pottercast and download a couple of episodes. It's great! 130 and 131 are the ones with Jo.

With the exception of the bank, post office, library, Sears, and grocery store, and checking my e-mail, I have done almost nothing so far today. Starting 2008 off slow, I guess...

Whack and Non-Whack

Things that are whack today:

1. The Otherworld Diner blog got an unusual spam comment on Friday. (It's deleted now--sorry.) In addition to being some incomprehensible mumble-jumble about gods and reincarnation and football and people in India and technology and college classes, it was over 122 pages and nearly 49,000 words long.

That's Craziness, Extended.

2. Terrell Owens, Dallas Cowboys wide receiver, saying the New England Patriots are definitely not the best team in football, without stating any evidence to back up his assertion.

Dallas was 5-0. New England was 5-0. Now New England is 6-0, after winning against Dallas 48-27. I'm not sure if he was implying that Dallas is the best team in the NFL, or someone else is. Some other team might certainly be better than New England. We'll get a chance to test the idea when we play Indianapolis in a few weeks. But Dallas is absolutely below New England on the list of the Best Teams. You can claim all you want that New England didn't beat Dallas, that Dallas beat themselves (and yes, 12 penalties for 100 yards goes a long way toward beating yourself). But then, a truly good team wouldn't beat itself, either, would it?

3. I dreamed I was back in school. Again. This time it was supposed to be Ichabod Crane, though the school was not, and my home was not. The most vivid part of the dream was walking home along a stream that ran along carved rocks, including between two rows of trees and inside a cavern. That didn't exist on the route to my house back when I was really going to that school. I was also supposed to be a senior but I gave my married name to people and my kids raced me back to the house.

Things that are not whack today:

Trish Milburn!

The American Title IV contest run by Romantic Times has opened for voting today. Trish is one of the ten finalists. Usually I know more than one finalist, and the notion of voting for people you like instead of the best content kind of rubs me the wrong way*, but this year not only is Trish the only person I know, her line really is the best! (Trust me--if I liked another one better I'd vote for it and never tell her :) )

Trish is one of those super-nice people who works really hard and is finally achieving some of the success she deserves. Because of that, she will be My Very First Ever Guest Blogger this Friday, 10/19. She'll be writing about something near and dear to my heart, getting inspiration from TV/movies. So make sure you check back Friday to get her take on this topic!

Don't worry, I'll remind you. ;)

In the meantime, head over to the American Title IV contest page and vote on the line you think is best. I'm betting you'll think it's Trish's. :)

*Those of you who've been around a while may remember me soliciting votes for The Romance Studio feature-of-the-month when they used to do that. I admit I encouraged everyone I knew to vote--but I did say to vote for whichever feature you liked best and pointed out why my competition was pretty great, too. So I'm really not being a hypocrite just because Trish is my friend. Honest.

Dreams of the "Past"

I don't have recurring dreams per se, in the sense that the same thing happens over and over. I do have recurring themes, or elements. One is school. Another is flying (though not for a long time). Otherwise, I dream wildly disparate stuff, often very complex and richly detailed. The longer I go without working on a new book, the more complex and detailed and exhausting my dreams get.

The last three nights, though, have been doozies. I keep revisiting my past. This happens a lot, mostly with the "I'm back in school" dreams, usually where I realize I've missed class all semester, or I don't know where my locker is. I was in new schools a lot (though not as often as some, and only once after the term started), so that might be why that is. But usually, I'm a different version of me. I'm the me I was back then, or if older, at least pre-wife-and-mother. Or an alterna-me, where my life as I know it hasn't happened. This time, I have been revisiting my past as me now.

Tuesday night, I was in an educational setting. It was a really old school, like a magnificent college. It was some kind of entertainment-oriented program. Megan was in the program, too, and we were maybe second-years. Nathan Fillion was in it, too, about to finish. The early part is less clear, though I remember he was warm and funny and I hung out with him a lot. The end part is very clear. He was teaching a final class before he finished the program, and he gave an assignment to us. I spent a long time flipping through my notebook, looking for a clean piece of paper that didn't have notes all over it. No, not those kind of notes. Notes Megan and I had written back and forth in class. Don't know where that comes from. We don't do that in chapter meetings at all. I was working hard at writing a very complimentary essay about Nathan that would cause him to come find me after the term ended, touched by my words.

Wednesday night I dreamed I was back in my old bedroom in Brady Village. We lived in Brady Village when I was in fifth through eleventh grades. Then we moved to New York, and I started college, and my parents moved to Connecticut, and the summer after my freshman year I worked at Blockbuster Video (also, during winter break, in a different store owned by the same people and managed by a guy I'd trained the previous summer, Scott Ritter). In my dream, I worked at Blockbuster but was in the apartment I hadn't lived in for nearly two decades, and some of the old crowd was there. I don't think Peter (Bonitatebus, in case he Googles himself) or Vince (Scarpetti) were in it, which is weird, because they were my best work friends that summer. Instead, while I spent the bulk of the dream searching desperately for the phone number for the store because I didn't know my schedule that day, two guys from PERG or something were there, all excited that I was back, and trying to get me to volunteer again (I never did before, I contacted them but they were pushy and obnoxious). They wanted me to do social work kind of stuff, which I vehemently refused (I'm so introverted!). So while I was searching, I kept finding all these bits of memorabilia, the detritus of everyday life. But no phone number. I was really relieved when I woke up and realized I wasn't late for work.

Last night's dream was the lightest. I dreamed first of my friend Lainey. I was picking her up in some hotel and griping that she had seven suitcases for a two-day stay. I don't know what happened there, but the dream changed and I was back in Agawam, the town I left when I was 16. I was at the apartment of an old friend, Jeanne, and she still lived there after all these years. We were getting into my car to go to lunch and I said something about gosh, her daughter must be what, five now? And she said three. And that's really funny because she's really, like, 20. I asked where she wanted to go to lunch, and she was all gung-ho about Burger King and their awesome chicken sandwiches. Not liking fast food even in my dreams, I let Vicki pick. Yes, a friend from now was in my dream of being back home. She knew of a great restaurant, despite never having been in Agawam in her (real) life.

I wonder what tonight holds for me.

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Out of curiosity, I Googled my old friends. Peter is a Ph.D. working in cancer-related nanotechnology. He owns patents and arranges bike rides for charity. Very intimidating. I hope he doesn't Google himself and find this blog (and really, someone that smart and important couldn't be bothered, right?)

Vince appears to be the principal of an elementary school. I only found one small picture, but it does look like him, 18 years older. And it's totally something he'd be. I can see him as one of those sweet guys who knows all the kids names and keeps them all in line because they don't want to disappoint him.

Scott is probably not the former United Nations weapons inspector, but his name is less uncommon than the other guys'.

Jeanne could be a floral designer/author, a federal judge, or an X-Men fan 'zine editor. It's more likely her name has changed and I'll never find her. That's kind of sad.

Random Stuff

I just picked up the first issue of Supernatural: Origins, the comic book prequel to the show that picks up right after Mary's death. It also has a short vignette, a piece of the boys' lives as they are a bit older.

It was okay. The art is fine, but doesn't look like the actors at all. The story doesn't go very far or tell us much we didn't already know. I'll still be getting the second issue, of course. I don't know how many they'll be, ultimately.

The surprising thing is that there was only one copy on the shelf! I'm sorry Misty and Vicki. I ordered three more copies and will go get yours when they come in, if they do. If not, I'll give you your money back and we'll just circulate my copy. :)

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Today was free comic book day. I've never seen the place so packed. Some idiots were standing in front of the "free comic" counter READING the damn things, blocking them so Number Two and all the rest of the kids there couldn't see what was available. Jerks.

And did I mention they were SOLD OUT of Supernatural: Origins?

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Went to see Spider-Man 3 yesterday. I liked it a lot, and even convinced myself I liked the things I didn't really like. I laughed at them, some really hard, so I figured I liked them. But...

What I loved, though:

Harry's arc

The bookending action sequences with Peter and Harry, at the beginning and ending of the film.

The acting, all around, but especially J. Jonah Jamison's scenes. Topher Grace was excellent, Thomas Haden Church was complex and poignant, and Bryce Dallas Howard needs to do more good movies because she's my favorite actress. She was so different than she was in The Village. I was disappointed she didn't have a bigger role.

I won't say the one thing I was much less happy with here, but will advise to avoid the comments if anyone doesn't want spoilers, because I will say it there, should it come up.

All in all, a good start to a potentially exciting summer movie season.

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Trish posted, in her 8 things from yesterday's tagging, that she's never had a ticket. I will admit that I have had more than one. None from age 17 (when I got my license) to about age 22, 23. And none for the last eight years. But I think I've had three speeding tickets, one for rolling through a stop sign, and a warning for running a red light. I don't know if I've gotten better as I aged, or luckier.

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One thing I was going to post yesterday but forgot was that when I am not writing something new, my dreams are affected. It's worst when I'm not working on any writing at all, but it happens when I'm editing, too. They are rich, deep, eventful, vivid, epic in scope, and very, very active. I wake up feeling like I lived everything that happened. Quite often something that has a powerful effect on me, usually TV or a movie, will infiltrate the dream, but not always. Details are very strong, and I can often (but not always) remember everything that happened.

When I am writing something new, my dreams are "normal." Superficial stuff drifting through, barely touching me, quite often related to something in my life rather than my imagination.

So the best thing for me is to never stop writing. Otherwise, the creativity gets all backed up. :)

Range of Existence

I'm about to try to pull a bunch of random thoughts on a particular topic into a coherent thought. Wish me luck.

My admiration for and desire to have personal (platonic) relationships with certain people is strong. Many of these people are younger than me. Some of them are men, and some of those men happen to be really hot, which means a lot of other women I know are attracted to them. But many of those women feel "wrong" for the attraction because the men are younger than they are. I feel nothing of the sort.

I have a friend who has been happily married for many, many years with a man 30 years her senior. The woman my grandfather is currently married to is younger than my mother, and they've been married longer, I believe, than he was to either of his first two wives.

I have a group of friends who has grown very close over the last six months. We range in age from 30 to (I think) 50 (she implied that once, but I don't see it). That range has very little bearing on our friendships, if any at all.

Society puts a lot of emphasis on age. Magazines like People always list the age of the person they are talking about (celebrity or not). We have opinions on who should or shouldn't go together, and express amazement when a teenager has a close friend who's elderly or if there is a long marriage with a large age discrepancy, as if love of any type has nothing to do with complementary personalities.

To me, the deterrent is much less age than experience.

I live in an area where it's quite common to never leave your county, where the "big city" has less than 50,000 people, where a family might go "out west" to Pittsburgh for the holidays. Since I've lived in fifteen places in seven states and visited at least half the states in this country, I feel worldly in comparison.

But in truth, my life has been very encapsulated. I had just barely started to explore when I got married (at age 21) and we started being all responsible and shit. I became a mother at 24 and since then, no matter where my personal focus is, my experience has revolved around my family.

There's nothing wrong with that, and I am extremely happy. But it's the major deterrent to relationships I desire with those creative people I admire so much. They've traveled more, met a broader range of people, lived harder and probably with more depth. They'd have no interest in someone like me.

So, okay, I sped past the coherent point and landed on self-pity. Sorry about that. I'll go back to listening to Jason Manns and thinking about Supernatural while I prepare to do a final edit on This Book I'm In Love With, and leave you with this:

Age is irrelevant. Experience is key.

Delicious Dream

I had the most delicious dream this morning.

I was me, but not the "me" I am today. I was crushing on Joaquin Phoenix, who apparently liked me, too. It was a problem because once I was sure there was a real spark between us, I realized Jody might like him. She'd posted a bunch of pictures of him on her blog, pictures she'd taken. So we were in some kind of building that I keep thinking was a grocery store, but but was supposed to be a school or something. Jody and I were sitting on a giant square cushion in the middle of the deli aisle. Joaquin was sitting behind me. His chest was very warm. He leaned over my shoulder to kiss me, and THEN I asked Jody silently if it was okay, if she was into him. She luckily made a "no way" face.

Then Joaquin demonstrated a new cooking technique that made perfect bacon, which was like getting a company to purchase his invention. Then he went out to play hockey and saved the game, which was odd because it was outdoors, but I was very proud.

Then the dream got weird. One of my relatives, I think, was getting married. Joaquin had a baby, and the woman he had the baby with was all excited because they were going to get married, too, as a surprise for the attendees. Joaquin didn't really seem to be on board with this, judging by how he was acting with me.

He brought his baby to see me, he was the size of a Baby!Winchester (see Plastic!Winchester Theater) and a cross between that and a Troll doll. When I tried to tickle his stomach, it was plastic. But he waved and smiled at me.

So anyway, then I was doing dishes for the wedding because a lot of the serving platters and stuff were dirty, which pissed off the mother of the surprise bride, and I needed something to do that kept me involved so I knew what was going on. I was in a tiny bathroom doing the dishes and Joaquin came in with me saying we should talk. I think he was going to tell me he wasn't getting married--it WAS my dream after all--but right after he told me how Dan Radcliffe had been at the hospital taking care of his new baby, whose mother was nowhere to be found, and what a great dad Dan was being, my alarm went off.

I have no doubt if I'd had 15 more minutes to sleep, I would have been marrying Joaquin Phoenix.

I blame Erica.

Last Night's Dream

Talk about weird dreams.

First, I was at a conference with two of my closest friends, Lisa and Cathy. I only ever see them at conferences, so that wasn't weird. Except our hotel was in a mall. I understand some famous, giant malls have hotels in them, so that's not too weird, either. But the hotel room opened right on the mall, like a retail store does. It had, like, a fabric wall on the mall side, with a weird door.

So we--the three of us--were going to go to a movie. Cathy wasn't in the room, and I'm not sure if she was supposed to meet us there or what. Lisa was farting around and we were running late. I told her, rather pointedly, that the movie started in TWO MINUTES, hinting that she's better move her ass, and that I'd go get the tickets. That's the last I saw of Lisa.

I rushed through the mall--I think I saw some people I knew that weren't real people--and got to the movie theater. I bought tickets and was drawn in by some friends.

Except my "new friends" were the gang from Veronica Mars, and the most prominent person was Dick. Yeah, the least likable character on the show. And the "movie theater" was a tiki bar, with the furniture and walls made of rattan and bamboo and the beach right outside.

Then it got weird. There was something about changing into a bikini or something, and anyone who's seen me in person knows I do NOT have a bikini body. I think I kept a shirt on. And I was aware I was supposed to be meeting Lisa and Cathy, but never saw them, and instead it was all about the machinations of hooking up. I'm not sure who I was hooking up with. It was either Dick from Veronica Mars, Jack from Lost, or some random guy who was probably supposed to be a character in one of my books.

My dreams tend to get vivid and strange and leave me feeling unrested when I haven't written in a while. All week I've been focusing my time on reading what other people have written (critiques and contest entries) and have therefore not been working on my own book.

Today I made sure to write. 16 pages. Not enough to forestall dreams, but it's also a new Supernatural episode tonight, so maybe I'll get lucky and have vivid, action-packed dreams about Dean and Sam.

Mmmmm. DeanandSamDeanandSamDeanandSamDeanandSamDeanandSam.