I had two very bad dreams this morning, in succession. The details are sketchy, but the first was a graphic horror dream, very disturbing, about a psycho or band of psychos. The second was an anxiety dream, with a bunch of somewhat true elements mixed together to make an unpleasant soup. When I awakened, my first thought was "Christopher Hitchens." Neither dream had anything at all to do with him, but I attribute the awareness to his nasty writings, the most recent example being his trashing of the Pope. I think he must be a very ugly person inside. There will be no linking from GBP to his column, it is easy enough to find if you are interested.

I have been rather blue. I don't usually describe myself as depressed - that's a serious clinical term, but instead sad or blue, or maybe melancholy. A bunch of things, some big, some small: The Pope, Terri Schiavo, the anniversaries of several deaths (including Mimmie's 12 years ago tomorrow), a terribly sad recent death in my hometown in a family that has had too many tragedies, the cold, rainy, grey weather, the mountain of papers to grade when juggling graduate student registration is capturing center stage, all combine to deflate my mood. The work stuff doesn't matter so much really, but the rest...life can be so sad.

As for the weather, my mother described a bright, beautiful, clear day to me once; she said something that we say in church, "this is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad." How true that is, how appropriate. Today I was looking at the bland, bone-chilling drizzle outside, and decided that considering the alternatives, we probably should all feel that way, no matter the weather. Sometimes I have heard that verse as a song, and so in my head today I have been playing it, as a reminder.