Daily Adventures

I used to have a series of assassination dreams.  Dreams where I'd go out and kill those that needed killing.  They'd show up the most when I was working really, really hard and doing a lot of work.  Now I wonder, kinda, what they might have meant to me, or what it was I was trying to subconsciously balance back then?  I'm taking a dreams and art class as my adult Sunday education class, and it's just bemusing to think about.   There was no fear or distress in those dreams just an even more sharpened sense of the types of efficiency I have always had in sections of my life.

I had a dream this morning with Jet's younger brother in it.  He was just a two-year-old, curled up in my arm, after the four of us went swimming in a crystal clear, hot spring warmed pool in the depths of a blue-black crystal cave.  He was doing great at swimming, chasing his older brother around, and was as sweet as Jet.  His swim diaper was actually better at protecting his butt from the hardness of the rocks when we were sitting and resting a bit.   A very calm dream.  Only sad after I woke up.

Which was when Jet jumped on me and said, "Mom!  Mom!  Wake up.  Breakfast is ready."   Then he lay on me and rocked and rolled until I grunted, "I'm awake.  I'm awake..." and then he fled down the hallway yelling, "Dad!  Dad!  Mom's up!"

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