A Meerkat's Bolthole

Reminder: two more days for the puntastic book contest!

I hit the 20,000 word mark on MUSTANG, and am putting it aside until Monday, when Word War resumes. This weekend I'm focusing on PACK OF LIES -- it's past time to get that sucker into fighting shape. So of course instead this morning I get the opening line for a story that's not due until August. Damn it, brain, get with the program! (it's set in the same universe as POL, so I don't feel too bad)

( the opening para )


Spent the afternoon yesterday with the World's Most Adorkable Dog, playing tug-of-war and don't-eat-that in Central Park. She was so wiped, I had to carry her the last few blocks home, and when we got there she flopped on her side with a "please don't make me move ever again" expression on her face. I could relate. Today, after an evening of recovery, I'm off to the Bronx Zoo to see somewhat larger animals. Tomorrow, back to work.


For those who enjoy hearing about other peoples' weird dreams, last night I dreamed that I was sitting outside somewhere with two other people [on a ship? On a seaside deck?] and saw first two ragged-fin dolphins, then an orca swim by, and then a polar bear rose from the water (seeing it swimming under the waves the way you do on a docu) and climbed over the side and put its arm around me to the utter amusement of my companions. Did it hug me? Eat me? I have no idea. Woke, thought 'that was weird' and then went back to sleep to dream of [among other things] walking along a long indoor walkway with cafes to get to the apartment that I was renting from my former in-laws (??) and discovering the furniture, mainly sofas and the bed, was either gone or totally rearranged. Not robbed -- just rearranged.

That was odd, even for my subconscious.

Pandora just abandoned her Position of Disdain on the printer and came to sprawl (and purr) in my lap. And thus, peace and harmony is restored to Ch. Felidae.

Yesterday I slew most of the backlogged paperwork and household stuff, wrote a piece for the Harlequin paranormal blog, ordered groceries, and (hopefully) fixed the dishwasher. Then I slept the sleep of the dead -- including a very strange dream about getting counterfeit dollars in a casino that turned out to be very rare coins worth $$$ and having the dream turn into an SG-1 episode set in that same casino with Sam in the starring role. No, I don't know why either. But there were lots of things being shot up, running and snarking, some forensic investigations of the money leading to historical discoveries, and did I mention things being shot up? My subconscious is occasionally useful, but sometimes just weird. Anyone want to take even a vague poke at what as up with all that?

Today the work-week began in earnest. A quick walk, coffee, and at my desk by 8am. I've already polished the outline for Bonnie #2 (PACK OF LIES) and sent it off to Madame Editrix, answered a slew of overnight e-mails, requested beta-notes on two different stories, and about to start digging into the meat of the day. AiC is now in session.

Oh, and for my fellow freelancers -- 3Q estimated taxes are due on the 15th! *chorus of resigned groans*

Information about a massive wet foods recall for cats (and dogs) for serious medical implications, via debg. If you feed your fourpaws wet food, you should check this out just in case. Potential renal failure is SERIOUS stuff.


In less serious pet-related news, I dreamed last night that I adopted a samoyed puppy. I don't remember the feline reactions, but the puppy was a bundle of sweetness and made me very happy. And it all happened on some beach/shoreline town somewhere while I was out on a date, which was very strange. The setting I mean, not...well, the date was strange, too... dogs are better thn dating? Very true...

(I like dogs but don't have a dog-friendly lifestyle, so actually [intentionally] adopting one isn't going to happen.)

I never get the really wild, weird-ass, WTF dreams. My subconscious is remarkably straightforward in working things through, and most of the time I either a) dream in archetypes (oh, loook, I'm walking through an old, bare house, toward the attic, and I meet up with an old woman whose hair is being brushed by a young girl! And there's a unicorn on the street below! [actual dream] or b) have a very reality-based dream about exactly what's bothering me (sitting having dinner with friends who have suddenly decided I've blighted their world and cannot be spoken to any more [also an actual dream]).

I'm starting to wonder if that's because I use all my weirdness ideas up in the job, or if I just don't have the time or energy, even in my dreams, to puzzle through the twists and turns. I'm busy, here! Let's get the issue out and on the table, already!


So. How do you dream? Would Freud be proud, or just bored?