Creaking and popping to consciousness I can only remember the first dream, not much of the second or beyond. Gene Hackman was the captain of a submarine. A window broke and everyone got sucked out into the ocean as though they were in deep space. Two people survived, Gene and a young sailor with black curly hair. They returned to port with the sub and were hailed as great heroes and given lots of money. Gene, as a older man, didn't have foolish desires so he faired well, but the newfound wealth ruined the younger man.

Moral: Karl wealth will come to you later in life when you're not such an idiot. Ok, I can live with that.

Dream two was about a farmer in Mongolia who was raising a huge field of sage plants. From a Native American perspective I suppose it's auspicious to dream of growing sage as sage is used in blessings and purification rituals. So to quote Bill in Caddy Shack, "I got that going for me, which is nice."

The rest of that dream is lost for now. Sometimes I remember more of them later in the day. Often I'll see an object that will remind me of an important part of a dream that I had forgotten. What if the objects show up to remind us of the dream message? Nah, you're a strict materialist and would never buy that new age crap.

Yesterday was a good day. Erica came over around three and we slid through a six pack of Pacifica getting caught up on her county woes. She is living in bland suburbia and her lesbian roommate is most generally off with her girlfriend, leaving Erica to do homework and go to movies by herself. Her man (hi Justin) is living in Chicago, but will be back around for Christmas and New Years, so we'll see him at the party.

Erica and I made a pact to go see more live music together as I seem to recall having enjoyed that once upon a time. She also talked up Fred's Music Lounge quite a bit as a great bar to watch Six Feet Under in - so I'm sold on that. We had intended to go to a movie, but when show time came we were having more fun simply talking and so we gave it a miss.

She had to leave for work around six thirty and soon after Angela and then Vick, Camilla, Trev, and Taylor came over. Angela brought mulling spices so we hoofed it up to Mike's for some Yellowtail Merlot. So, one table spoon mulling spices in an infuser together with one third of a cup of sugar, three cinnamon sticks, a sliced lemon, and a cored apple equals a damn fine mulled wine. I know your recipe calls for Burgundy, but really that's too sweet and I know you like Cabernets more than Merlot now that you're all growds up, but trust me - the Merlot mulls better.

We watched an Eddie Izzard DVD late into the night and sent all off with much laughter and warmth.

I am gifting Vick my old Futon, ten plus years I slept on that thing. She'll have more sleeping space for the kids when my folks come down on Saturday. So, my first order of business is to break that thing down and load it into the van. Then we have a family Christmas tradition of going junk shopping together and buying each other the weird crap that catches the eye. Later we'll brag about how little we spent in relation to the coolness of the item. So off I go, Merry Christmas or whatever your tradition is. If you disdain all habituated holiday then I wish you simply a good weekend.