Praise then darkness, and creation unfinished

It really isn't the heat, it's the way the sweat sticks to me, and keeps regenerating. Yes, I know that's what it's supposed to do--but it's supposed to evaporate and cool me down, not just sit there.

I had an annoying dream last night, about having not finished--or even started--a homework assignment, in a college social studies class [1], which I was supposed to write in rhymed verse, ABAB stanzas, and mine kept wanting to be rhymed couplets instead. And then I was at some kind of outdoor college-sponsored gathering, and they had swooped down and taken all our backpacks away to be claimed later: enough later that I wouldn't be able to get my papers out and finish the work before class. I was more worried, however, about its containing my all-purpose notebook, and the risk that someone might read the more personal diary entries. That may be connected to a coworker having told me that she'd accidentally put a diary-type file on the public servers at work.

On the other hand, I did sleep late, in real life as well as in the dream. Now, I suppose I ought to get to some of the editorial work that I suspect the dream was reminding me of. But I just want to play around online, perhaps because I'm netless at work. Or perhaps just because it is so hot and sticky.

Also, cattitude thinks that Julian may be allergic to dairy, so we're going to keep him off dairy for a week or so and see whether he stops sneezing. He was not happy to be deprived of his already-accustomed share of my yogurt this morning.

[1] I know, but the default subject for school anxiety dreams is social studies. I don't know why.

Do you ever have dreams where you wake up and have to tell yourself that no, that isn't the shape of the waking world? Not nightmares, not fantasias of living on Mars, just odd little shifts.

Rationally, I know that Singer isn't moving to New York; but I remember the long conversation I had with Lise about it, and how it would be cool to have him living nearby, but why would he, since he doesn't really like it here, and what happened to the gig in Maryland? And then I woke up, and had to resist the urge to turn the computer on so I could look at his Web site and make sure he didn't have a note about moving back to Brooklyn.

Meanwhile, out in the waking world, I have email from someone who has the same name as I do, and is astonished by this--neither of us thought there could be two Vicki Rosenzweigs in the world. I've liked having a unique (I thought) name--it made up for nobody being able to spell or pronounce it.