Animal Dreams

I played with the neighbors and their guests yesterday: everything from providing hangover remedies to repairing a Harley that was eating its rear tire to re-leveling my coach. Repairman Mike came by to replace a fuse on my refrigerator. He hung around to admire Lucy and Lulu ("That Lulu really has a nice rack." "Yeah- they are Lulu's"). Dr Rosenberg (call me Bob) loaned his grinder and supervised on the Harley project. Listened to my iPod. Cooked some liver I had bought to tempt Goody's appetite but we like it too, once in awhile. Early to bed.

I don't often remember my dreams. I had an early one in which I was at Elizabeth Taylor's house. There was a fancy dinner and she took a shine to me. Then she performed in a spoof play in which she was a crone/witch type and we all admired her for playing against type. But in the process she revealed acres and acres of cellulite. Then she started to put the moves on me. I was sweating. I finally told her I was already "involved." She said she didn't care. I said I did and apologetically let her down easy. On the way out I saw Larry Fortensky directing the valet parking and said a little prayer of thanks for my wisdom. (Where on earth did this dream come from? It must have been somebody else's. Time to change the meds.)

The dream just before I woke featured my Goody girl. She was stepping high and looked so alert. There was a mist between us but she was in sunshine. I woke up smiling.