Rather than fight a losing battle, a retreat was called.

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The last few days have been difficult.  Malaise, sleepiness, inefficiency... dragging butt, really.  I was doing everything I could.  Medicines, other than Monday I think, were on track.  I was eating at least a few bites a day.  I was sleeping reasonably well, if I seemed to be waking a bit early if that was only shaving an half hour to hour off my schedule, and that will little work so it wasn't exactly a stretch.  The engine and caboose of my train were fighting each other to no good ends.  I was becoming slightly worried that I might be in for a downturn.

Last night, though, way early for me compared to the last week and an half, I would guess, the opportunity to get to bed early occurred.  I took it.  I was in bed before 22:00, and probably asleep shortly after.  That would be like you going back to bed at noon?  Something like that.  Oh, and I slept well, if I woke rather early... close to 3:00.  Which makes sense, when you plug all the numbers into a spreadsheet.  Perhaps that took care of the building slight deficiency.  Or, maybe, my body just needed extra sleep for it's own reasons.  All I know is, since waking, life is good.  I feel ready to hit some things today, finally, again.  Some odds and ends, but mainly the living room, and testing the snow blower.  Odds and ends may end up being impressive.  No worries, I won't bother boring you with them today.  I might do a summary, later, or not.

Dreams.  A short one and a long one.

In the short one, the first one, I found myself in the kitchen, talking to my wife about shopping.  With three children, shopping trips were at least once a week.  Sometimes one, sometimes the other, and just sometimes a lunch date with both of us, having found a sitter.  Today was the latter.  We were going over our various checklists.  When shopping together, we would split the list by type and placement, meeting toward the front of the store.  I was faster moving, but she faster at finding, so it... worked out well enough.  A new tech arrived, where you could take virtual items you had on hand, in with you.  If they were ripening a bit slowly, you could even check the virtual version through a system, then manipulate the real with the data, and they would ripen more quickly.  The wife was not so in to new tech.  With herself, me, and three children... new ideas were just not fun.  Hand-holding through systems and processes, though, if they were simple enough, it what it took to get her on board... if she liked the results.  And if she decided she trusted the system.  Fair enough.  It wasn't a fancy dream, but it was real enough seeming.  No sex, no this, no that, just domestic... near bliss.  Good enough for this old dog.  I think that part of life... is just as much as any of it.  I enjoyed this dream a good deal.

In the next dream, I was an older woman, a widow of a wealthy man.  Somehow I got my nose bent out of shape about prisoners.  I decided to put my money, effort, and time into training prisoners for work, rather than have them sit around all day.  Or worse.  It took a great deal of advocating to various powerful men.  The governor, industrialists, even the prisoners themselves.  In time, it worked.  A minor arrow production system was created.  Myself, another woman, and a man, became the leads on the project.  All with similar goals and ideas.

Some parts of it were rather dangerous to work.  With the often poorly educated inmates, so those of us who were in charge decided to take those tasks on ourselves, after several inmates died in the process.  In time we became a force to be reckoned with, in the industry.  Wooden arrows, really.  For a dozen, or score, of years, we trained inmates in various skills, starting from the simplest, advancing them as they were able, on up to managerial tasks, accounting, mechanics, on down to simply being to work, on time.  It became quite a thing.  In time, hunters began using rifles more before, and new types of arrows were being produced.  Still, the program struggled on.

The three of us who created and ran the program were getting older.  None of us were young when we started, time does no favors.  With the change in hunting methods, and competition in the arrow field, the program was beginning to wind down.  Finally, when the other lady on the directors board, and dear friend in the dream, was killed doing one of the dangerous processes, the program finally came to a halt.  In some ways, I was very sad to see it go.  On another hand, it was time.  I suppose I had just hoped it would have ended on a different note.  I can't say the program helped a single inmate find his way to a new life, records were not kept.  But that was the hope, and opportunity for that had been created.

Strange dreams.  But that is the dream world.  And, nothing so strenuous that today isn't a good one, or at least it is starting out quite well.  Good day.