I had terrible dreams last night and tonight I was thinking about delaying bedtime because I was a little skittish about going under the blanket again. I was somewhat amused at myself for feeling like that, but nevertheless, I did stay up watching a movie and then thinking and then getting a Diet Coke and then reading a little and then . . . oh dear, what could I do. Well, I thought that I’d check the weather and see if there was any breaking news on CNN.

I think the headline was something about a toddler in Lake Michigan, blown in by the wind. I lived in Palatine for some years on the northwest side of Cook County – and, yes, I was actually alive when I voted – and had visions of a kid losing his balance and tripping into the shallow water at the beach. I guess I had Winnetka’s waterfront in my mind’s eye and a memory of Quentin tripping on the sand and going nose first into the water when he was, at most, barely two. We plucked him out.

But when I read the article, I discovered that the toddler had been in a stroller and the wind had blown him off of a pier and into 10 feet of water where he remained for 15 minutes, while his grandfather and others tried to get him out. Fifteen seconds seems like an eternity in a situation like that; I cannot imagine 15 minutes. And 10 feet doesn’t seem that deep until you try to get down that far – at least for me. And that’s at the Y in a swimsuit. And the water there is never in the 40’s.

The little boy is in critical condition – I don’t know if the cold water was cold enough or not to protect his brain.

Now, that’s a nightmare.

(A more detailed account is in The Chicago Tribune.)

I just got back from Family Video. I was feeling low and decided I wanted to get a movie to lose myself in. I wound up with The Black Dahlia, Downfall and the first four episodes of The Sopranos last season. I think the Black Dahlia got bad reviews, Downfall is about Hitler and The Sopranos are, well, you know, of a criminal persuasion.

Maybe I am feeling lower than I thought.

But, hey, I can take it; I’ve watched Manos Hands of Fate. More than once.

I am in a non-comedy phase. Of course, for me, reacting to a comedy I enjoy means that I frown less, smile now and then and at times, chuckle. I do not guffaw. I once laughed aloud, but my mother gave me a look and I don’t anymore. Unless it is to laugh at someone; that comes naturally. I can point, too  . . . HA! HA! Point and HA HA!

There is something about Family Video, which we call Fam Vid, that upsets me. They seem to only employ young people. Isn’t Family in the name? Huh? Dontcha think some older people would come in during the afternoon and take a stab at this DVD business if maybe on a couple of days a “mature” person was behind the desk. Someone who could say which movies they would feel comfortable watching with other people.

For instance, the new release Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead starts out with people having sex in Rio and not anything like missionaries. Nosirree, Bob. Not at all. Wouldn’t it be nice if someone could discretely warn you of that? I think so. Let you know about the “close your eyes” moments, so to speak.

They have TWO copies of It’s a Wonderful Life all year round – I think they should have some other classics . . . like me. Okay, I’m more of a piece of work than a classic, but there are very nice older ladies around who  could help them tap more of the marketplace.

Okay, I’m the one who thought Secret Agent Man was Secret Asian Man, so I can identify with the bloggers who have been writing about the New Madras fault. Still, I can’t help but visualize a funky, nobby, plaid stretching across the landscape.

It’s spelled like the city in Spain – Madrid – but pronounced with the stress on the syllables reversed. It took me a long time to get it right when we moved to Blytheville Air Force Base in Arkansas. A site from the Department of Emergency Management is HERE and a nifty one that has eyewitness accounts from the 1811-1812 quakes is in THIS SPOT.

I wrote this post about the Red Sox, Yankees, Curses and Voodoo a few days ago. There was this little bit in it:

According to this site, voodoo dolls are usually used for positive things:

Add pins. Voodoo practitioners use dolls primarily for boring positive things like healing people or sparking romance.

And this:

There are seven pins, each one with a different symbol:

• yellow – success
• white – positive
• red – power
• purple – spirituality
• green – money
• blue – love
• black – repelling negative energy

Okay, so I got to thinking: Why aren’t we making voodoo dolls of ourselves and bringing good things into our lives – sort of the acupuncture of wealth, success and lots of benefits. Heck, if it is that easy, I’ll go out looking for the Spanish moss for the authentic New Orleans version . . .  I must be missing something here.

Last night, I knew Christine was going to be on TV and when I finished reading my book and talking to my mother (see below) on the phone, I turned on AMC and watched the latter part of it. I didn’t think the car – Christine – was so spooky, in fact, I liked the way it repaired itself. I did think the actor playing Arnie was a bit on the scary side; he made me feel very uncomfortable, more villain than victim. Anyway, it ended up and I started thinking, “Where is that copy of the book?”

Then I went to sleep . . . and I dreamed: long, relentless, slow-paced events that centered on my getting in and out of the little green car (RIP). I had a little kid with me I had to keep track of and the car seemed but together oddly, giving me the feeling that any moment I would not be able to understand how to drive it.

I remember, toward the end of the dream, picking up screws off the floor at a Wal-Mart; were they mine that had fallen out of my head, having been loose for so long?

Waking was not an easy task; I had to talk myself into reality. I really dislike that type of dreaming; where are the dreams of beaches and convertibles? Well, it would be a bummer waking up from them as well.