I try to read the news, the text is small so I can see the glare of some lightbulb product.  I try to check the latest scores, I get a pop-up for Athlete's Foot.  Well, you won't find any advertisments here, at least.  Big wow, someone's grumpy.  Someone's got a case of the Mondays. No, I'm not--and I don't work on Mondays.  

 But I'm going to.  I'm doing fine and I'm building more than a house of cards.  I don't allow myself to be bored anymore.

Anyway, so in my dream I'm walking my dogs in a suburban neighborhood, and we're at a park and I hear sirens.  Up the street, I see a cruiser stop in front of a house, and a cop--a policecop--talks to a frantic woman who points at a house and the officer runs in with his gun out.  Then a few other cruisers arrive at the scene, and they all rush in.  Me and the neighbors hear shots fired, and then a shootout--so obviously, we run closer so we can see the shootout.  I spot a man run out of that house and into another one.  Then through the window, that sonuvabitch starts firing into the park with a shotgun, and the police--the policecops--disappear.  We all try to take shelter behind trees and stumps of trees.  I'm behind a pretty thick one, but my dogs aren't with me, and there's really no where to run, as we're out in the open in that park.  There's shrapnel flying through the air and chunks of...um, tree violently splintering off all around me. I try to make a run for it, as I see that foul, miserable insect, now in the park, reloading his shotgun; and who knows what I'll do to him if he shoots me in the back.  I make a dash, a mad dash, down the street but I don't have my dogs with me.  I see my Aunt's dog, and I pick her up as I'm sprinting, and one of mine I turn to see is running behind me.  But the little one, I can't find, and Chelsea's gotten fatter and it's a struggle to lift up two dogs in motion and I'm about to drop them 

I guess I've been walking my dogs more often, which is good.