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I feel I must add for the sake of completeness that the repair I did to the Jeep's tire worked a treat. Put 228 miles on it today without a hitch. I'll recheck the tire pressure tomorrow but I don't expect it to change.
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Horrible dream department: (warning for wife: skip this)
When we got back from our trip south to drop off Maki, I went to bed, and I had this dream where I remembered having another cat--two other cats, actually, one after the other--which simply...un-existed suddenly. I don't mean died; I mean ceased to exist entirely.
In the dream, I woke up from a dream about the cats, and realized, "Hey, whatever happened to those cats, anyway?" They hadn't run away, nor had they been given away, nor euthanized; but try as I might (as I dreamed I lay in bed thinking about it) I could not remember what had happened to one, then the other. I couldn't even remember their names; I just remembered that cat A had...disappeared, and we'd suddenly had cat B, who'd then...disappeared. And I didn't want to think it was some kind of Matrix deal, so I was carefully not considering that as I probed the blank spot in my memory for any other evidence that those cats had existed. I didn't want to get up because I was afraid I'd forget all about it.
Of course, when I woke up for real, I immediately realized that neither of those cats had ever existed. You know how it is when you have a dream that feels completely real, but then you wake up from it and realize it was obviously a dream? That was how I felt: I'd been dreaming the whole time.
(Or was I? Paging Agent Smith!)
I'm glad of that realization, because if I'd woken up with any doubt in my mind, well, that way lies raging paranoia and considering how often things happen to feed my incipient paranoia I don't exactly need help in that regard.
The other dream was less horrible but still weird. In it, there were these two guys--an old man and his son--who were evil mad scientists, and whenever they were working on something they'd wear these creepy brown masks. There was a big thing going on--I do not remember what the conflict was in the story--but at the end of it, the younger guy's 13-year-old son comes in wearing some kind of bunny mask and takes his place at the lab bench. The other two look at him, he says, "Like I'm the only one here wearing a stupid mask?" and then everyone resumes working without comment.
I also recall looking through a doorway into the kitchen of the house where this is taking place, to see a blonde girl about 10 years old in a blue dress, also wearing a creepy brown mask. After the kid comes in and begins work with his dad and grandfather, the little girl came in, but she didn't have the little revolver she always carried.
I don't know what that family was about, but I'm glad they're not real. The masks were kind of cool, though.
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This past week has been stressful enough that I've found myself revisiting the dystopian story about a guy who gets thrown in a concentration camp because he's a Christian in 2020 America. The timeline in the story is fucked since Trump got elected (what I have of it, I wrote before the Trumpocalypse of 2016) but I figured I could always move it forward a decade or two, recast it as "alternate history" (if Hillary had managed to steal the election) or something of that sort.
The story came to mind during this or that stressful period a few years ago--the exact origin is blurry--but one version of it has the main character almost freezing to death. Another has the main character almost dying while being tortured with electricity. I don't really have a good direction to take it (having that would let me determine what almost kills him, and thus why he lives, and what goes on afterwards) and it's kind of a downer story anyway (dystopia, duh) and it's probably not worth putting any more work into.
Anyway, the week since Monday has been depressing, and this is the result: bad dreams and revisiting a useless, crummy story. It's like I can't do anything right and I can't win no matter what I do.
Man, fuck that horseshoe.