It's the wee hours of the morning, and I'm up. It's hot, hard to sleep, and my dreams have troubled me. I went to bed hoping to dream of Wayne. Seems a desirable thing on his birthday. I can't have him here; at least I can dream about him. But no. Just stuff that makes no sense to me about people not close to me.
Can't a person dream what she wants? Apparently not.
The frogs sing their loud croaking song every night. And I mean loud--I wonder how big they are. They stopped singing for a while but have started up again. Perhaps my falling asleep to their croaks determined the theme of my dreaming. But I think refried beans were part of my dream, and I can't figure out what they have to do with frogs or anything else that was on my mind. See what I mean? Makes no sense.
I had to go down and wake Lola because the light was on inside her car and all the doors locked. Didn't want the battery to die. She has come up and seen to it, and the car still starts.
Perhaps that is all I need to record. Need being the questionable word.
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