I dreamt that I was wandering around the back yard of the place I grew up in. It was a bit unkempt and messy, with a lot more stuff in it than there was when I was growing up.
On the door to the shed was a note from my mother, responding ever so politely to a note from a neighbor who was offended by her posting a comic critical of Bush’s policies on there. Why this was the place for such a discourse I wasn’t sure but there it was – ineffably polite but unyielding in her disagreement. It was nicely typeset.