Intersection Logs

I had the weirdest dream this morning, in which I had a house, a car, and a baby. And a bike, I think, though that might have been in the previous dream.

The house was just down the road from my mother's, but oddly, in that neighborhood of 1950's and later semis, it was some kind of ancient barn conversion, all bare stone walls and exposed beams. The car was brand-new and yellow, but I don't think I ever actually saw it in the dream; I was marching the whole family -- including my father -- down the road to show it off, but we went into the house instead, and I lit a lot of candles. The baby was sitting quietly in the corner, waiting for me; he was about eleven months old, not walking yet; the point at which he started talking, not very clearly but in complete sentences and five-syllable words, was the point at which my suspension of disbelief snapped entirely and I woke up.

It's possible I've been watching too much TLC. (There was a moment in What Not to Wear last night when the victim handed Stacy, the female host, a baby, which she seemed rather unsure what to do with.)

Possibly I should not use The Jennifer Morgue, delightful though it is, for bedtime reading. After that, on top of a day messing around online, and under an extra comforter because it was cold out, I was dreaming about a world reduced to chaos by some kind of zombifying evil -- narrated entirely in customers_suck posts.

Then there was the one in which I found myself explaining that, in an alternate world where elves didn't exist, it would of course be wrong for adherents of $religion to believe in them, but as they obviously did -- and had built most of the houses in my street -- it would be wrong not to. (They were nice houses. Very, very red brick, with gothic arches.)