The yoga lady this
morning on TV did an exercise segment on constipation and explained what
liquids helps the body digest what it needs to. I had a restless night and kept
waking up. The sweet aspect of my sleep was a dream about a lovely woman and
how we had a splendid relationship, both of us blossoming in our own ways and
coming together to celebrate our lives. Details are hazy now, and I should have
woken up and written it down like I used to when I studied my dreams back in
the 90's. Then it seemed like I could recall all details and dream whatever I
wanted. I could only wish I'd awakened and written my dream down. I think the
woman was an artist as well. All of my girlfriends and wives since prison have
been artists. I don't recall if she was from this side of the planet or from
somewhere else.
Now the sun is coming up
and the backside cell block geese are out for morning breakfast and a stroll.
It made me think of the other goose still sitting on her eggs, though someone
has stolen two. No program in art room today. So I'll play my flute, read a
little, perhaps write a snail mail or two and do my gosling meditation.
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