The last week has been strange.  A confluence of data and information arrived and it resulted in a frightening dream last night.  I hardly know where to begin.  The week?  The dream?  The outcome?  The resultant resolutions?

My first instinct was to be “Debbie Downer” and schedule a pity party STAT!  Instead, I made a cup of coffee and decided to analyze the data.

It all started when I received an e-mail notification from one of the volunteer organizations I belong to.  They were announcing the board of directors for the upcoming year and included biographical information about each nominee.  Sixty eight percent of the nominees had or were working towards the completion of an advanced educational degree.  It was an impressive and scholarly list, including one PhD, on JD, multiple MBAs, and even a Six Sigma Green Belt.  Feeling unworthy of this organization, I decided to look at the current board of directors and found the mathematical makeup of scholarship was exactly the same.  Sixty eight percent.

There was a time in my life when I seriously considered going back to school to attain an MBA.  Then I landed a plot in the Hampton Victory Garden and I figured out how to turn seeds into flowers and then even into tomatoes.  Every once in a while, though, I would wonder if my life might be enhanced by more formal education.

Woe is me.

On that same day, James Howard Kunstler posted the following on Facebook:

9:05 a.m. Tues Jan 14, 2014, calling for possible stock market crash today.  JHK

Later that day, Jimmy the K explained his prediction as follows:

Bad call on the markets today by yours truly.  They only go up.  I had a gut feeling.  The gut is a trickster.

Finally, before falling asleep last night, I got a long e-mail from Reggie, reminding me that the Apocalypse was nigh and it was time to nudge myself out of normalcy bias.  Water filters, solar panels, long underwear, and bullets were part of his prescription.

Oh, Reggie!  How I adore you.

When I woke up this morning, the remains of last night’s dream swirled around the corners of my mind.  In the dream, I had been staying at a beautiful old house in Lisbon Falls.  Was I renting the house or was I house-sitting?  I’m not sure.  It was the day of the Moxie Festival Parade and even though it was early in the morning, parade-goers were lining up chairs along the parade route.  The house was along the route and had a large porch on the second floor, perfect for viewing.

For reasons only known to dreamers, I opened the basement door and a white rat ran up the stairs followed by a slithering snake.  I must have screamed.  A cat from my past appeared and chased after the snake.  A bitter fight ensued, but Sasha the cat (or was it Fred?) was victorious and a dead snake lay in the middle of an elegant Oriental rug.

There was no blood and Reggie appeared out of nowhere to survey the damage.

If I never had another dream in my life, I would be happy.

Surveying all of these data points, I decided to look for the silver lining.  Yes, there have been spots of sunlight through the clouds this week.

My vacuum, full of Mon Beau Sapin’s needles, smells like a balsam pillow from The Palabra Shop in Boothbay Harbor.

Then, I got a Facebook friend request from an old crony from college.  He was a hilarious man with excellent taste in music; I had to accept his request.  I’m glad I did because he’s still hilarious and sometimes sardonic.  The combination of qualities really works for him and I’ve laughed more this week from his posts than I have all year.

Through his “friendship” I also reconnected with another hilarious crony from college with similarly excellent taste in music.  I’ve often wondered what happened to “Madge” and even though we weren’t terrific friends, her radio show was right before mine during my senior year in college.  It looks like she’s still funny and has even written a book about an appropriate response to having a Debbie Downer Pity Party kind of day.  It’s called When Life Gives You Lemons…At Least You Won’t Get Scurvy.

I just bought it.  Phew, I can now cross “prevent scurvy” off on my Apocalypse “to do” list.

Thanks, Madge, I’m soaking in it!