4:AM Dream

A disfigured woman came to the back door of our kitchen begging like a stray cat. We let her in and started finding her food. We were cooking at the time and two things were on the stove. The woman took off a rubber mask and wig and shook out her suburban blonde hair. She looked familiar, from some scary real life unsolved murder TV show. I tried to get out through a porch door to call 911. I couldn't because doors were locked from the outside. I panicked. I told Bill I had to get something and found a way out and ran into a friend who was standing on the bed of a green truck downtown. Justin, Do you have a phone on you? Please call 911 send them to my house. I was terrified Bill was going to get caught off guard by this woman. I woke up.

S was in our care and was listening Bob Dylan songs. You love Bob Dylan, Me too I said. I love them! S wanted to show his girlfriend my poems. I gave S a stack of bolos levedos (Portuguese sweet muffins) they were my "poems" in the dream. Go in the other room to phone her, but come back in a half hour I said. On his way into the other room he helped himself to a liquor cabinet. I forgot we even had one. Did you tell him it's homemade wine? I asked my husband. No, he replied. We made S pizza with grated carrots in the crust.

I was in a car with Jon F and his mother Marge, we drove downtown and cows were lying down. I thought they were rugs I said, until they moved! They were magenta, green, blue. They lifted their heads as we drove by. I said to Marge You knew how to give your kids boundaries, something we never had.