Last night I didn't make it to synagogue as I had hoped to. There was an early service that caught me unawares after my late afternoon of bed-buying. So I stayed home and graded papers, then watched Monk. Though it is entirely formulaic, I like the conceit of the detective with OCD and Tourette Syndrome, a la Motherless Brooklyn, and love Tony Shaloub in the part of the detective.
But sleep came quickly and I quickly fell into a rollercoaster of dreams. One striking image I recall is wandering up and down a hillside packed with people that rather resembled the Great Wall of China. It was standing in for San Francisco, but contained elements of Mt. Fuji as well, with cherry trees covered with pink blossoms beside the road. It was snowing gently, also anomalous. I was lost, and instead of a cellphone, I held in my hand the useless receiver of a cordless land line phone.
I wish I could go out today and get more furniture, but there is work to be done inside the house. It will have to wait.