Several nights ago, I recall reading about Donald Trump’s “hurricane gun” idea, a friend’s hospital stay, and Route 66. Then I slept, and my brain tried to make sense of what I had read.
I dreamt that five hurricanes were approaching the U.S. coast, and that I had to get back to Albuquerque as soon as possible. Barefoot and wearing a hospital gown, I was pushing a walker and running at highway speeds, through Nevada and Arizona, trying to get home. As I awoke, after a 900-mile run, I was approaching the Sandia Mountains on Paseo del Norte at sunset, watching a rising crescent moon over the mountains as the rains closed in. Very pretty, but I was getting very weary.
(I know, I know, you can't have a rising crescent moon at sunset. My bad.)
Making sense of Facebook is hard for the brain.
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