...
Didn't bother with fresh images and only showing fires with active suppression.
The smoke inhalation thing gets worse every day. It's worse at night for me because I have to open up the house to keep from baking to death on top of everything else.
I was dreaming this morning that a young lady very dear to me was the daughter of a fuck-up with whom I went to high school... mostly... she did sort of trade off being the daughter of other people I know a little, but mostly her mother was that fuck-up, when in real life her parents are about as far from fuck-ups as it gets.
She was back being a kid and needed me something fierce. It was abundantly clear that I help her or her life isn't going to happen. No interference from any of the "parents" in this dream, but all kinds of changing scenes and me trying to make a list of all the stuff that had to happen for us to get her out of her predicament and on track for her future.
It was extremely uncomfortable. Weirdly, I was in such a state of sixes and sevens over the urgency of it and it not holding still long enough to communicate effectively, not the real life impossibility of my lacking the funds to get her safe and on her way to adulthood. Somehow that didn't come up, didn't enter my head. No. We had this project, no matter the chaos.
She was as avid to accommodate me as I was her. She was as positive for my help as I was to give it. So, the young lady and the no money weren't impeding. It was the fuck-up and the others, superannuated kids, all, and the kaleidoscopic set and setting that were creating all the discomfort.
And the smoke inhalation.
...
Someone musta heard me whining because a couple hours after I posted this my blazing epithelial cells settled down to a dull roar. Wind musta changed. Almost bearable now. Still, down in Humboldt and Trinity, they are suffering in a major, major, major way.
always and any time....
