I was walking through a window and felt the symphonic rush of fear to know I was dreaming a place I dreamt before. 3 black dogs instead of 2 and my old pup came to my rescue and my safety, hung out with me in my dreams. A visit of unity and respect that she loved me. I get that with all my old pets that have passed on. I don’t know if they’re mementos of heaven or rather clairvoyance of a higher energy. I still don’t know if I believe in God, like the good Catholic in me should. I think I do, I’ll keep it at that. It’s always been tumultuous.
Johnny Cash is playing on the speaker “Bad News” oh my.
The black dog usually does mean bad luck and I’ve had two. One was my best friend and the other a beautiful niece of some sort but an adopted child. Funny how pets can have a familial hierarchy sense to them.
I’ve been journaling so much, but it’s nice to be able to think.
I love it really.
I have all the time in the world and I make good usage of it and the results are starting to show off. I love it.
I have breakfast on the way. Nothing much is hurting me right now when yesterday I couldn’t shake off old memories of chop suey and I just didn’t want to speak but I still wrote a little bit. Not a lonely life by any means. Maybe the outlaw shit in me is always lonesome. I love the music and I’m going to work on the playlist today. The old country not the new stuff. I miss it. Not for others, just for me.
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