You probably have a better brain than I do, but mine is a bit of a recycling bin. The stuff that rattles around in there unsorted is amazing.
I have long learned to rely on my dreams to spit up interesting insights into how I work to me.
Some of my dreams are best left unfigured out, like the one where my dad's best friend was wearing my mother's dress, but some tell me things.
I woke up this morning from a nightmare.
I dreamt I was going into teach a class, my best assistant from my last job with me, and we took Mr. Rascal into the classroom with us. At the end of the class all the students filed out and we realized Mr. R had gone out with them and was now lost.
We searched and searched all over the hills where my school is but we just couldn't find him anywhere.
Finally, I went home and explained all this to my husband. In the middle of the conversation we heard scratching at the door and we hoped it was Mr. R. However when we went to the door there were about twenty abandoned dogs in the front yard, I recognized many of them, including my boy Elvis who I sure hope has been adopted by now. They were all hungry and we fed them.
But there was no Rascal.
I realized when I woke up that I had gone to volunteer at the shelter in St. Augustine with the well-developed crazy part of my brain sort of hoping he would turn up there. I knew he was somewhere, but I just didn't know where.
I understood this when I woke up, and understood that in looking for him I found something else.
And I realized Miss Daisy was his last gift to me.
More later, this is just this morning.