Can you draw a dream?

Written last night:
Dear Friends,

At 1:30 this morning a loud slapping sound woke me. After a moment I figured out it was the giant flag on the roof of the bank across the street, whipping in a strong wind. I stumbled over to the balcony and slid the door shut, turned on the dehumidifier’s white noise machine, and went back to sleep. Suddenly it’s fall, windy and cool.

At breakfast I had an urge to write out some practical realizations about my new life. (For one, I just realized that Zing — despite all the complication he’s caused — has been better than a shrink for me. Cheaper too.) Much as I love to write, it's not often this meandering, soul-searching stuff.

Zing and I did a few errands and I had my eyes checked. I’m beginning to take Zing more places, rather than go to the trouble of leaving him home alone, medicated. Many places welcome dogs here.

After dinner I watched TV, but not really. I got HBO for a month, but haven’t had the taste for much. I began to watch the Jane Fonda/Robert Redford movie, based on a novel by great writer Kent Haruf and recommended by my old writing professor at FSU. Boring. Turned it off.  Any recommendations?

So the day filled up with little things. I drew a mistake.  Nothing to show you! 

(Which makes me think -- you know how people keep a notebook beside the bed to write down dreams? Maybe I'll keep a bedside book to draw my dreams.

Love,
k