Oh, my gosh, the nightmare. No slimy monsters, no bad guys chasing me with weapons, no deaths of anyone – dear or not dear.

There was a bad guy . . . and it was me. I made one mistake after another and my life was on its way down the drain – probably into a sewer into which people had released pythons. The time frame was a jumble; somehow my last home was a slanting trailer that was the second floor of an old apartment building with a brick courtyard.

Not one bit of this seeped into that part of my sleeping brain that often hints “dream”.

But, hey, I think my cold is better.