Again, not down until midnight.

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Again, as well, I set the alarm for 10:00 but rose somewhere between 7:30 and 8:15, I am almost sure.  I looked at the clock, watch, and cellphone, but the time didn't, couldn't, stick in memory.  Oh, and I reset all the clocks in the cave yesterday!  Even in the Xt'er on the way to dinner, the clock was reset.  Yum!  Life might make a bit more sense.  One of my clocks, the main one in the living room, was hours off!  The battery was dying.  I set the day in it too, but that might be off already.  Some clocks shouldn't even have a day number function, they pretty much have to be reset every month.

I know I dreamed.  Unrequited but sweet love.  It's a form of pure love that can have elements of physical attraction, just no actual contact.  It can be just as dirty as regular relationships, or just as pure.  I won't say it can be purer, because I believe a good relationship between a man and wife can be quite pure even with consummation.  Actually, that is the hope, if it might take... a little time to master?  If I have hit bottom with love, I have hit crescendos that have shown me what is possible, too.  Many things of men are multifaceted.  There is right and wrong, and there is in God's grace and out of it.  Each is sort of on it's own though good builds on holy to make finer yet.  As a perfect diamond, but set in gold finery.  One is purely of flesh or animal (or as close to animals as men can be), one is of flesh with the wizened spirit of holiness.  No, these dreams were just... about the right love of mind, flesh, and spirit, and without wedlock so without the physical aspects.  Always a touch bittersweet but this time more sweet than bitter.  Perspective, I think, is the palette upon which we render our understandings and in this case the color choices for painting were picture perfect for romanticized renaissance innocence.

There were other dreams.  Just stuff of life.  No great or even little fuss, just a review of life as if reading the diary of someone just living their life.  Dreams are such odd things.  Vexing, soothing, interesting, dull, or just odd, mixing those elements and others into a mental smoothy that sometimes mean something, sometimes not.  Our own personal little mysteries of life.  I don't think God dreams, but could you imagine His dreams if He did?  Well... actually... I think we can.  In some ways, I think we are the result of what passes for His dreams, even to, at times, His nightmares... in the crucifixion among other ills of man.  Like me, though, He has the ability to make bad things right, in His "dreams", only better than I ever could.  And, I don't think, for Him, it is a mystery, more a grand artistic masterpiece.  One designed before it began and running exactly on His schedule.  Hard to imagine for people who can't even create a web page for a king's ransom that runs.  Though, that might be part of their schtick to force something else.  The Godless fail and seem to mean to do so, as it isn't a part time job for them, they aim at failure then hit the gas.  It's they only thing they know.

Today?  I don't know.  I'm not quite yet awake.  I put a load in the washing machine last night, and I am considering dishes today.  I'm simply not staying focused.  When it was suggested that my writing might be stream of consciousness in style, and I suggested that was from how I think, imagine if that is how I live.  Now... stop imagining.  I simply don't have the ability to alter the stream much.  Sometimes, rarely, I can act on some thoughts if they come to me.  No more, no less, and only a possibility.  Sleep walking while awake.  Oh, but I try younglings, I do try.  And pray.

Later.