I do not like what I just saw. I left my office to go pee and when I came back, there was a cranberry-colored car sitting in the street in front of the house. I couldn’t tell how many people were in it, but I think there was more than one. I was tempted, before it pulled away a minute or two later up Meadow Green, to go out and see what was up, but I didn’t in case they were cop-connected or armed and crazy. It could’ve been as innocent of a thing as stopping to look at maps, or someone staking out the house for criminal purposes. I called Tom to let him know about it and told him that even though I didn’t have a bad vibe, to look for a cranberry car should he find the door kicked in and me with a bullet hole in my head. Although chances are one in a zillion it meant anything bad, there were a couple of things about it that bugged me. One, I’ve been having more chase dreams, and two, the freeloaders were associated with the same exact car and the person driving looked possibly blackish. Or Mexican. But then again, that’s a common misfortune in the southwest. I asked Sharon if she thought we were safe or if they could’ve gotten our address somehow, but as far as she and Tom say, they can’t possibly know where we live. Not unless the police gave them our address. They could give it to them without knowing it. Mr. Biased gave me Joebitch’s address, although I don’t remember it. When he showed me and asked me if it was my handwriting on the envelope addressed to the house, it also had a label stuck on it with the address to be forwarded to.

Anyway, and as I told Tom, although it’s pretty unlikely for someone to break in here what with how out of the way we are, and although I could probably handle one or two unarmed people with my bare hands, what if one or more people broke in with guns? Then what do I do? I don’t like feeling defenseless here, and although the idea of learning to use guns scares me, I don’t want to ever live to regret not having a gun. So as soon as we can, we’re going to get us a little protection. Not something we tote along with us wherever we go, but something to keep in a kitchen drawer.

My doctor’s appointment about my hopeless asthma and allergies is set for the 8th of next month at 9:00. That’s two days this month I’ll have to get up 3 or 4 hours before the usual 9:00, and God knows how many more times I’ll have to do that within the next few years, so I decided to back my schedule up till I’m getting up at 6:00 and crashing at 10:00.

Later...

I’m trying to figure out if what I just heard was thunder or the military. It didn’t vibrate the house like the military does, and there didn’t seem enough clouds at the time to be thunder, so who knows what it was? It’s clouding up out there now, though. It seems like the monsoon season has come and gone, cuz it hasn’t rained for a couple of weeks or so.

Tom called before going to pick up his mom from daycare, wanting to know if I’d seen anything more and needed him to come home. Nope. All’s fine. Haven’t seen anything else suspicious. I’m just tired today. Now it’s my turn to feel rundown, achy and energyless, I guess, cuz that’s exactly how I feel. Being woken up by nightmares doesn’t help. I couldn’t fall right back asleep. It took me time, and of course, I got up at 8:30 when the alarm went off. Tomorrow I’ll be getting up at 8:00.

I wish I had more to write about right now, but certainly not trips to jails! If having only jail to write about means having anything at all to write about, then I’d prefer to have nothing to write about, thank you!

Guess I can get into detail about the dreams. In one dream, I was walking down a dark street when a car slowly passed me, stopping a few hundred yards or so away. A man, who was obviously drunk out of his mind, got out, mumbled something, and sent me screaming down the road. I screamed no! three times and came awake on the third no. Not the way I’d react in real life. Not with how pissed I get. Oh, I may be scared at first, but my fear has a way of quickly turning to rage, giving me strength that surprises even me.

In the second dream, Dan was back from Indiana, blasting the shit out of his music. Tom said he was going to go talk to him, and I told him, “No, don’t do that. You know asking someone to lower their music is a sin in Arizona, even if they are white and they do own and not rent.” But he went anyway, only to be chased back over here by Dan at gunpoint. I managed to kick the gun out of Dan’s hand, grab him by the back of the shirt, and toss him onto the ground. As I was boasting about how I was taught to get a person down and then disable them, I stomped on his neck with the intention of breaking it. Oh, I broke it all right. I not only broke it, I killed the guy. When it hit me what I had done, I turned to Tom and ordered him to get digging (so we could bury him), but it was too late. Just then, a cruiser pulled around the side of the house where we were at.