My Christmas Present

 

I’ve been dreaming about my cat, Blitz. Three nights this week, I dreamed about him. In the first dream, he was a kitten, underweight, weak, and crying. He required attention. This morning, I dreamed that he was fat, happy, and ready to go. All I needed to do was open the door and he could fly out of it. I don’t remember the second dream.

I dream in metaphors.

I blame my friend, Bruce. He’s a true-meaning-of-Christmas kind of guy. The other day, he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, what I really wanted.

“Time,” I said immediately.

I wanted time to edit my next book, time to write to fill in gaps, time to upload it. It’s so close. I even have the title: Dirty and Afraid, Bringing a Wild Kitten Home.

Do you see now why I’m dreaming about Blitz? Do you see the metaphors?

I do. I need to get busy. It’s Christmas and I have a big present I need to give myself. Hopefully, it will be a present for you too.

Thank you for listening, jules

 
 
 This is what happens when the government goes corrupt and ordinary people have to turn off Netflix and get to work resisting.

This is what happens when the government goes corrupt and ordinary people have to turn off Netflix and get to work resisting.

Crabby

My crabby blog exposes what's up in the angry side of my brain. There's a lot going on there, folks. The Trump administration won't leave us alone to live our lives in relative peace. We have to fight for what we know is right. We have to. If we don't, then they win and ... damn.

Read

 This is what happens when a woman turns off the news and tries to find and keep her humanity and joy.

This is what happens when a woman turns off the news and tries to find and keep her humanity and joy.

Chatty

My chatty blog leads me to search for meaning in the world, shows my ridiculous romp through life.

Read