Your Time is Gonna Come

Dreamed last night that my son was standing by a piece of paper on the floor. He had a marker in his hand, bent over and wrote Led Zeppelin quite legibly on the paper. Somehow, it was implied that he wanted to listen to the first album.



Maybe he liked the graphics, or wanted to hear Good Times, Bad Times. It's almost time to wake him up. He was awake at 5AM, being Mr. Giggles. It's hard to reach him when he will not stop laughing for reasons unknown, or when he repeats the same words in a circular pattern.

His mother emailed me yesterday and asked if we were going to be home when he got off the bus on Wednesday. I told her no. She replied 'good' because her mother was going to be getting him off the bus that day and she did not want the potential for a confrontation.

Is this shit still going on?

That's moving forward? Gives me little reason to be optimistic about my college homecoming in a couple of weeks. My first wife is allegedly going to be there and who knows what type of buried drama is going to be stirred up.

I do not know why I compared the situations. Two different things. Or are they? It's baggage no one needs.