Odd day. Last night was calm, wind tempered, sheep safely grazing in the 40F weather, etc. But I had to stop in for a rare Sbux, as the coat needed some stitches before the night, and the unusual influx of coffee at that hour made for some peculiarities of the digestive system. (In fairness, three venti cups at the end of the night might have been pushing it.)
Then gym, Mass, meditation (keeping it under a quarter-hour, this is no time to start deepening the practice), laundry. Then a quick couple hours of dozing in the park under a tree (civilized -- the rule of thumb is that a 19th c. British fiction character might reasonably have been described as doing so), with a strange dream about computer record-keeping systems and the last country I stayed in over in the Balkans.
National dreams seem to have a peculiar force with me. Perhaps I'm a Hegelian. In the utmost extremity of a past winter, I recall coming to consciousness (from cumulative lack of sleep, presumably) as I paced the streets, earnestly seeking the depot of the national rail system, in one case French British, in another, German. Not quite at that level of intensity quite yet, although O Sacred Head Surrounded was on autoplay in my head as I walked to the research library after the nap.
Perhaps I'll wake to find that I'm actually an acting teacher in LA, and this was all a dream conjured by an alien species to give me some sense of their culture, and time to practice the flute. In which case, these "humans," as they're called, are a real piece of of work.
In terms of how badly crashing hard out of the Balkans could have gone last Friday, I should be grateful.
I am grateful.