Another full moon, another night brimming with forgotten dreams--except the last one, which came to me this morning after sleepus interruptus. It was not a Big Dream, nor even meaningful particularly, But my brother in the dream looked just like Gregory Corso sitting cross-legged on the floor looking unhappy. He wandered out the door while I was distracted by a gentleman caller, and who later I found sitting cross-legged on sidewalk staring at grocery-shop door waiting for me to open it: running the shop was my job in the dream and many customers were preparing to leave because they were so tired of waiting in the cold dark shop. I ran to turn on lights, called frantically after departing customers wait! wait! and a man said someone named Ari (the owner! oh no!) had telephoned repeatedly to ask whether I'd opened the shop on time.

And in real life getting impatient to find large blocks of time enough to finish the book. Completed 400 words yesterday before spending the remainder of the day, a Sunday, with recovering and now almost fully present and balanced husband, what a relief! to have him back again. What a disaster that almost was, disastrous enough in its way that we had to figure out the source of his imbalances on our own.

And now I have a meeting to attend as rep for the county's In-Home Supportive Services workers, blows a big hole in this day. Rest of the week I will do nothing more than write, because the book, a small one, novella-like, is nearly done, will be done this week, and then just to polish it and get it into AmazonSingles with parts 2 and 3 to follow in quick succession.

There's that sunbeam. Gotta go.