Before we get into anything else, I need to clear up the mystery of why the cops were at the neighbor’s house at 12:45 in the morning the other night. Turns out, they were attempting to deliver a felony warrant for someone named Daquan (sp?) Jones. They knocked on the neighbor’s door, waking him but not his wife. When he answered, they explained what they were doing and he let them come in and look. There was no Daquan there. No one named Daquan has ever lived there. The previous owner, Linda, did have a weird guy who lived with her some and then always showed up for race day, but he doesn’t seem like the Daquan type. The cops didn’t say what charges the dude was wanted on, but ya’ gotta assume that it was rather serious if 14 cops decked out in full tactical gear and assault rifles were needed to bring the guy in. If anyone knows Daquan, you might want to tell him to turn himself in before the cops blow his head off.
Our neighbors next door have had a rough start to the year’s first half. Her Dad passed a couple of months ago, then both of their elderly dogs died, and then her mom passed two weeks ago. I don’t care who you are, that’s an emotional tornado that scrambles all your feelings and leaves you feeling torn apart. Their solution: they bought an 8-week-old Jack Russel Terrier yesterday. They’ve named her Libby. Obviously, the pup was still a bit scared when they brought her out to say hi. We hope this begins to help with some of the healing they need.
Yesterday was a good day to sit outside with the pups, so we did. A lot. Kat got her Medicaid back yesterday, so I will be checking today to see if mine is reinstated. I’ll also be seeing if there’s any other assistance I can get. Anything to help.
Last night’s dreams were surreal. See if you can make any sense of this. Imagine living at the top of a very tall building, the tallest building in town. The building has a triangle shape, not a pyramid, not quite a right triangle (more like 80 degrees), and at the top is a large rectangle-shaped apartment jutting out from the top of the building; that’s where you live, in that rectangle. Waking up, wearing pajamas (which I never do), I look out the window, and across the courtyard, a video is being projected onto another building. The video is an artist’s vision of two trees, one at each end, with red-spectrumed rectangle-shaped leaves falling in rhythm. As the leaves fall, they play music. I can’t hear what music, but scattered across the courtyard are a number of people conducting the music, full scores scattered in front of them, as the leaves fall.
Getting out of bed, I begin to explore the apartment. With every turn, I find a recessed door hidden in the architecture. Each subsequent room is a different sensory experience. One involves interacting with water by using your voice. Another is electronic matter challenging your perspective and opinion on contemporary issues. Yet another is a wood floor with children cutting out different shapes and as they place the shapes on the floor, they become music, and moving the shapes around the floor creates a song.
Moving from room to room takes me slowly downward through the building. I’m still barefoot and in pajamas. I ask someone for a cup of coffee. What they bring back is a bowl with a cup’s worth of coffee, but the bowl is large enough that it looks like very little. A strange-looking amphibian in a tank morphs its shape in response to my hand motions. A few rooms later, a camel is leaning against the glass taking a nap. Two prides of lions seem to be facing off until a massive orangutan picks up one of the troublesome females and carries her off. Nurses under a canvas tent were giving vaccinations to newborn animals and wrapping them in cloth diapers.
I passed briefly by a jungle court in progress but was encouraged to not linger. The animals were sitting in judgment of humans.
While the building was full of people, especially school-age children who seemed to be on field trips, I was the only one who lived there. I asked repeatedly why I was the only one living in the big rectangle and what my responsibilities were, but no one ever answered that question. Instead, they would re-direct me to another fascination or oddity.
So many rooms. So many tactile and emotional experiences. I felt warm, at home; curious but comfortable. Waking up was a shock to the senses, seconds before my alarm went off. As odd as it was, the dream left me with a feeling of peace, but I have no sense as to what any of it might mean if it means anything at all.
Such is the start of today. The bear and I may go for a walk in the woods if we can hitch a ride to the park. Does anyone care to go with us?