No Matter Where You Go, There You Are.

This is my fourth Penny Reid novel, and I appreciate how she adds depth to storylines and to main characters. Her books do not settle for having either of those key story elements be dumb and two-dimensional.                                 Elizabeth, our protagonist, is fulfilling her residency as an ER doctor, working her butt off, spending one wine glass-clutching night a week with her knitting group, occasionally “using” guys in casual relationships from which she simply wanted sex for just a couple of months at a time.

I knew Steve-O and discussed a major career change on 11/25.

          I had a nightmare Thursday morning. Considering what's in the news right now, let's quickly acknowledge and dismiss the fact that it seems topical. For most of us, dreams are cooked up by our subconscious minds, and mine was showing me something in the form of a nightmare, because in it, I was molested.  Such a thing has not happened to me in real life and I admire the resilience of people (regardless of gender), because whether they know it yet or not, they are incredibly resilient, and I personally don't buy into the idea that a person can be broken. It's not at all my intention to make light of being attacked, but to delve into why my subconscious created that metaphor .              That said, after waking up at 5:15 am and writing down all that I could remember, then thinking it over, researching online, and again reviewing it here, I have concluded that sexual misconduct headlines are not relevant to my dre...

          So I woke up on 10/26 and immediately scribbled down what I remembered of the Chinese food, the friend and the gift in my dream.

A dream involving coupons, a former friend, and an injured Elton John.

On the 18th, I woke up from a dream in which I had two younger brothers, one of whom was Eric, a tall, confident blond who wouldn't listen to my advice, probably ever. Eric's face was so vivid. Unfortunately, nothing else stuck, but h ere's what I found online:

I could only remember a dream I had during an hour-long nap late in the morning. It involved my meeting up with some nameless, faceless friends in a building with a homey feel where the owner's pets wandered freely and guests could pet them all they wanted. One was a friendly designer mutt - a 'doodle of some kind, be it Labra- or golden- and I kept petting it,  but there was also a bird.  What I found online in regards to the bird was the following: