Yeah, I'm up.

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Not good or bad, or at least yet.  Son, but that was sleep.  On top of it, I dreamed heavily.  Not a dream storm like the other night.  Not in my memory.  Three dreams.  The first was poignant.  I tried to hold onto it it.  It was the first, and seemed to happen early in sleep.  Then a dream that is one of the more potent and harsh dreams I have had regarding life and my place in it.  The first time I had it, I was able, through it, to look at every fraudulent action and thought, every falsehood, every knowing and suspected poor choice.  On and on and on and on and on.  From when I was a child to a teen to an adult, in sickness and health, in grace and not.  It wasn't that I was seeing the bad choices.  The dream was a repeated collection of pictures, but I can't remember what they were.  Like a slide show with potent images of various sorts.  Through seeing this long but oft repeated set of images, I began to flash through my wrongs.  In the dream anyway, the images did not stop until I had covered every single sin, every single bad thought I would have or did act upon.  Nothing was spared until... I knelt absolutely to the fact that I was... am... so terribly far from perfect.  The first time I had that dream I cried, off and on, for a week, two?  Probably more.  This time, when I saw the images, I remembered my failings, but realized this time I was seeing it so as to know I was not alone in that.  I saw you, some of your ways and failings.  Not everyone of you, but a sampling of many of your types and particular failings, man and woman.  Not to judge, just to know.  I knew, before, but not like this.  I now know as if I had made your poor choice, committed your sin.  Different than just... idealizing.  I had a final dream, but that middle dream overshadowed all, and is still with me.  I may not cry for the next two weeks, but I will lament for... a long while.  And pray.  With my tears, in my turn, I prayed more than even I cried.  Lovely.  Really.  For I saw that it was not the end.  Not for you, or me, if chosen otherwise.  Just... hard.  Choose wisely.  Oh, but after being hit by that first, I'll tell you, I'll be on my knees as often before, praying.  Not just for you.  That sort of thing hits home.  I'll be praying for us.

Neither good or bad this morning.  Just awake and somewhere between frisky and a bit drained.  Go figure that one out.  It's a good foppish day, whatever that means.  It seems to fit, my mind saw the word foppish and latched on, so I type it out as if I knew what I was doing.  The rest from sleep, despite the turmoil in dreams, was quite good.  Getting out yesterday, just that bit, was fine.  I still have great troubles regarding the licensing thing.  If they take away my license I will lose my home.  And I know it is not deserved.  These people are petty tyrants and mean to do me harm.  They believe the disabled should be medicated into oblivion, perhaps even murdered, and given no voice in this world.  Actually, they are just using disability as a means of attempting to quash anti-progressive thought and word.  I know this.  Evil has run amok in our government, in everything it touches, and has become unbound, though perhaps desperate as well.  It sees the resistance growing, maybe becoming insurmountable, and so will lash out with extra fervor while it still holds sways.  Watch yourselves, boys and girls,  It sees all and is coming for you, to.

Today?  Not sure.  I would like to hit the kitchen, but...  I don't know.  The weather has turned chill, and I've lost my weather-resistance from the warm spell.  I am weakened by the constant cool.  Until I find my footing, and acclimatize to the winter again, I'm probably just not going to be doing a whole lot.  No, I don't adapt quickly.  One of the faults of having a weakened body.  Then again, I have been let out of the "class of life" to tend this as I need to.  If I won't surrender to a nursing home, over-medication, and the theft of my disability income, I do have to surrender to taking it easy when I must.  And, currently, I must.  So... I do.  I have had worse.  Before they got the diagnosis correct, they tried to use whip and carrot to get me to jump through hoops.  I still suspect they knew from the start.  They just thought I would die quickly, so didn't really give a shit.  That's what happens when you tie medicine to bureaucracy to bean counters.  It's more than carelessness, it's... shameless prejudice based purely on coin.  I know why they hate me still drawing air.  It costs a pretty penny.  A heart transplant would give their trainees something to practice with, and give me an inception date they can count on.  Open ended is too much, free on top of it is too much.  Yes, I know.

Hmm... coffee, some reading, and a bit of work if I can get to it.  Later.