It started out innocently enough with a discussion that Renee, John, and I were having at our large family Thanksgiving on Friday afternoon (yes, I know, we were a day late, but since more of our extended family can make a Friday commitment than we can a Thursday commitment, we tend to do Thanksgiving on Friday).
I’m not really sure how the conversation fell to remodeling and gardens, but Renee and John were mentioning that they really had some work to do in their garden and so, of course, I had to show them our photos of the whole process that went on here this spring. Yesterday evening after Andrew and I got home I was interested in re-visiting the photos and re-reading all the blog posts I had written. While Andrew and crew played Left 4 Dead, I sat and read through about four months worth of blog posts, reliving all of our chaos from this spring and being thoroughly glad that it’s ALL OVER WITH!

We went to bed rather late and woke rather groggy. It wasn’t until I was walking through the front garden on my way to the mail box, that I realized the genesis of my faint sense of unease. I was walking through my front garden looking at things carefully because I had dreamed that through some colossal fuckup Powell Homes (the developer that owns the property behind ours) had needed to do some additional work before starting on the second home they have planned for that plot of land. In pursuing that additional work, whatever it may have been, they had come through with an excavator and torn the bejesus out of my carefully planned and painstakingly constructed new garden.
I may be the only one who does this, having never been personally present for someone else’s dream experience I can’t be sure, but I remember being absolutely damn-the-torpedoes-full-speed-ahead PISSED OFF in this dream. I remember waking, in that vague sort of way one does between the end of one session of REM sleep and the descent into another, still absolutely spitting mad.
And man I was relieved this morning when I finally got a chance to look at the garden thoroughly and realize that the only thing that was wrong with it was that one of my Doone Valley thyme plants seems to have died.

After spending Friday evening shooting zombies with Matt, Curt, and Gary, Andrew had zombie dreams.

It was a great Thanksgiving, thanks.