Of Dreams and Neighbors

Life could be worse. I woke up from a bad dream this morning where neighbors had moved in next door to us. They were fat and loud and had about 6 teenage kids. They cut down all the trees and rode those loud ATVs around the swamp. In my dream they had to enter my back porch to get to their garage, and they walked through my garden, stopped to loiter and sat on hundreds of little seedlings I had just planted. I screamed and threw sticks at them and they just laughed, like they owned the place. Then, as will happen in bad dreams, big omnipotent snakes materialized, and Jurassic-size plastic crocodiles came to life, and I suddenly realized I was late delivering 30,000 mealworms to my grandmother. Running from the crocodiles, I dropped all the worms in the hallway and had to stop and pick them up one by one while my classmates stood by impatiently and watched...

There are many things to hate about this house, but at least my real neighbors are not riffraff, are fairly far away and across a road, and never invade my space except with their noisy leafblowers and lawn services. And every year before they leave to spend their summer in France, I have to endure a week or two of listening to their kids, now teenagers, yell and holler as kids will do. Yes, life is good.

Off to make breakfast in my lovely, wall-less kitchen.