Someone tried to shoot me in my dreams last night, though I don’t remember any details. I actually had a series of strange dreams. In one dream Tom said he was sure that a dog was living in the carport of a house further down the street, and I wondered if I should mention it to Joy.

Then I had a dream (I don’t know how I knew this) where I was sure that the police helped pick one of my blog posts out for publication for profit by some psych magazine. I then contacted both the police and magazine by email letting them know that since they weren’t authorized to use my work without my permission, they would hear from my attorney as soon as I obtained one.

I was reading back on some old dream premonitions I’d forgotten about and can now understand more of their meaning. I knew the dream where my MIL suddenly stopped sending us money (like she’d ever really give a shit if we lived or died) was a warning sign of trouble ahead. Tom was hurt and worried when her weekly envelope arrived completely empty. I asked him if he thought we’d be ok and he said, “Now, no.”

What was eerie was the date of the entry. It was right around the time the government was set to stop our checks before a red flag went up and before they notified us. It was basically the same warning as in the “whiteout” dream. In the whiteout dream, the man who’d come to give me the bad news was digging. I later realized it represented the digging of our graves till that miraculous phone call/job came at the very last moment after months of filling out every application available to fill out just to be ignored.

Now that September is just hours away I can say I still hate that month, though maybe not as much as December. I hated September as a kid cuz it meant going back to school. As an adult, I hate it due to the onset of cooler temps (though it stays warm here till November), and the holiday madness. But ever since 2011, September’s taken on an even worse meaning for me with the 16th being the day the lovely fuck off letter came and we were so sure we had just two weeks left to live since the streets were no place for us to survive an also no place to die. I still shudder just thinking about it, and I look upwards to a God that may or may not exist and my fists clench with fury. That one terrifying incident alone is enough to make me forever hate Him. I will never forgive Him and I don’t want to forgive Him either. That was a real doozy in my book. As if everything else that ever went wrong in my life wasn’t enough?

Been here 1 month and 3 weeks and I still love everything but the traffic. Tom thinks the traffic will be quieter in the winter when there are fewer companies with trucks and trailers coming to do yard work. It’s not the traffic I worry about in the cooler months, it’s next door. They don’t live outdoors like Jesse did, but will Bob want to live in his garage at that time and maybe saw this and drill that while he adds a little hammering to the mix?