Sun In Virgo

Sagittarius ascendant.

Thursday morning I had another episode of a recently recurring dream. I no longer live in a house. It's now a condo. Sometimes it's a beach condo. It seems like it's always a high-rise.

Last night's condo had many rooms. Allison Williams was my live-in assistant. Not really as housekeeper, or maid, or cook, but like a personal assistant. I was bossing her around.

Near the end of the dream I used a bathroom at the end of a hallway. I didn't actually "use" it so much as look out its window. The window was of irregular shape, and slightly convex, as it was fitted into rock or stone.

The window looked down over a room that featured a sofa and a coffee table shaped like a kidney, sort of a nineteen-sixties art deco design. It was at that moment that I realized I was looking at the bedroom antechamber belonging to my late father. The antechamber was carved out of rock and stone, like a grotto. The bedroom was at a lower, more protected level still deeper in the grotto.

I felt gratitude that my father had bequeathed this place for me to live.

I haven't spent much time really analyzing this dream. On the surface, it seems like a happy dream, and I am excited to be moving and downsizing. My wife is usually present in my mind, as she was last night. The dogs aren't. Maybe this is how I see my life in ten years. Lots of amenities, more resources devoted to taking care of my needs.

I'm being self-indulgent with this post, because it's my birthday. I will be back with my hatin' on feminists and the whole progressive stack later today. There is some Sally Kohn-related bile that is simmering up right this minute.

The struggle that I have sometimes is that I want to focus my thoughts on the essay topic at hand. This helps me to develop insights that add depth. But also sometimes I want to imagine my psyche inside a waterfall. I can hear the water drenching my spirit, and it sounds like a downpour that drowns out all other thoughts, and leaves me renewed and refreshed. That helps to be present, living in the moment, or mindfulness, as they say.

But I will leave the gentle reader with this image from yesterday morning. Two poodles, sitting in the Tacoma; they have no idea they are going to dog beach in Coronado. All they know is that they are going for a ride. They don't know yet that Inara's ball will be stolen, again and again, by a relentless little white dog, whose person was a charming Australian with a toddler boy. They have no idea that very soon they will get wet, get tossed in the surf, and, at land's end, enjoy a rare moment in the present.