November 3, 2020. Election Day Nightmares.

This actually won’t be a political post. I actually had nightmares last night. Apolitical nightmares. I know, I know. Shock. Two dreams.

The first one, I think I was Living with one of the women who was a regular at my Reisterstown Open Mic. Kyndal was long and tall and thin and often wore big sweatshirts. She and her boyfriend were in her room and I came out of my room in my boxers only to find my mom had dropped in with HER new beau (weirdly, in this case my mom’s played by Archer’s mother from, well, Archer) and they’re canoodlin’ and while I’m not looking they slip past me into my bedroom and then THAT’S awkward so I knock on my housemate’s door and ask if I can borrow one of her sweatshirts cause it’s COLD and it’s all weird and HER boyfriend’s wearing her last sweatshirt but he’s willing to give it to me but…

Then things shift and I’m in some kind of slightly futurized version of the Baltimore Harbor – we’re on the steps out front of Fogo de Chão Brazilian Steakhouse where we had a Heather birthday dinner once many years ago and I look up to the glass covering the whole street (futurized, remember?) and watch the reflections of the people scurrying on the street and everyone’s running in one direction and then I focus past it and see an incoming missile. I look around me and see that Heather’s running the WRONG direction and when I yell to her she just stops and stares and then I start running and there’s a huge explosion.

Later, dazedly I meet the band and Heather’s family at the restaurant and everyone’s looking downcast and I’m shaking my head saying “no no no no” and I see Kristen’s just gone to the salad bar to avoid catching my eye and Justin (Heather’s brother) sees me and sadly nods his head to say “yes, Heather was killed” and I break down and I wake up crying and it’s awful and I roll over and clutch a pillow and just cry some more and then the trash truck comes and shatters the morning silence. It helps me get a grip on the world around me and I get up and make breakfast because that’s real.