“The Truck Stops Here”

I am going to a huge second hand store with the parents. I see my cousins, uncle & sister there. My parents & I are leaving. In the parking lot, the wheels of father’s old truck have been removed & the body of the truck has been vandalized. The look on father’s face in my dream is enough to wake me up at 3am, but I was able to fall back asleep again.

=7min36sec/daily

Finished double checking. The state’s are not matching my first attempt either, but it’s because my federal’s did not match. Otherwise the #s were the same. Only a small discrepancy money-wise, but I will do them again & see if I can’t at least duplicate one set of results.

Then I’ll reprint the forms, make copies, & mail...

I’m really looking forward to finishing this prior year’s taxes, once & for all.

It’s been long enough.

“Morning Commute”

I’m driving a bus in the city. I missed my turn and end up in a series of one way streets. I am pulling the bus into a driveway to turn around. It’s the driveway of a business. One of the humans working there explains the markings on the road should have been an indication not to pull a bus into their driveway.

I am abandoning the bus, thinking it will be easier to walk. I am carrying a physical therapy ball. I lose it once, but another passerby catches it for me. Her companion knocks it out of my hands twice. Since I don’t want to be late, I just let him have the physical therapy ball.

I arrive at work. I am working in an office. I recognize one of my old coworkers. She’s an analyst now. Everyone else is a stranger. I ask my coworker for help. I don’t even know how to log in to my programs. She is talking, but I don’t understand. It’s just gibberish.

=6min56sec daily

I am coming up with different numbers than I did the first time.

That’s a good sign, right? At least they haven’t told me to eff off yet. First they want me to hand-write in detail 22 pages of how mental illness has derailed my so-called life. Then they’ll tell me to eff off.