I've been dreaming a lot more than usual here lately. Or maybe I'm just rembering my dreams more often. I don't usually remember the details of the dreams, just that I've dreamt. Still, I guess I'll take what I can get.

Jackson was great for me yesterday. He's got another tooth that's almost completely out--that makes 8 in all!--and he'll turn 1 year old... Soon. His party is next weekend (don't remember what day, eep!), so I have to figure out what to get him soon. I'm thinking a baby outfit that doesn't have a racecar or dumptruck on it.

I hope that Konnie comes over today to watch anime. We always try to make plans, but every now and then,n things fall through, y'know? Hopefully that won't be the case this time.

Oh, AND! I MADE AN 'A' IN NEWSWRITING!

Last night I dreamt that I fell in love with a blind boy. A beautiful blind boy, probably 18 or 19 years old (or 16... or 17... but I'm trying to avoid trouble here!). A blind boy who PLAYED VIDEOGAMES.

Ah, yes, my dreams are so uber-realistic, aren't they? Hee. Still, it was a far nicer dream than it had any right to be. Even if I did have to spend most of my time hauling him away from fangirls. (Yes, he had a group of fangirls. Ninja fangirls who were completely silent, and thus he never detected them.)

I've had some pretty weird dreams before, but last night's takes the cake for sure. It may end up being boring for readers, as lots of dreams are, but I'm just posting it for my own reference. I like writing down my dreams so if I have them again, I'll know they're recurring.

( Dream a little dream? )

Okay. I realize that if anyone got through that, it was probably more boring than scary. Tough luck, but I warned you it was just for self-reference!

You know the saddest part, though? I really do like cats, and I woke up feeling guilty for killing one, even if it was an evil killing machine set on destroying everyone I loved. Worse than that, though, is I'm feeling kind of scared of cats right now. If Popeye or Mary (neighborhood cats I feed and adore) were to show up while I was on the front porch, I wouldn't pet them or anything--I'd just run inside and lock the door. That's how freaked out the dream got me. And that, my lovelies, is just sad.

Why can't I ever remember my good dreams?