It seems lately when I sit down to write my entry all the things I had to say whooosh away.

Last night I had another of my re-occuring travel disaster dreams. Actually, "disaster" is the wrong word. I've been having these dreams since I was like 12. In this dream, Sarah, and Karen, and Kennda, and Gavin, and Jen, and Matt and I were all in England. We decided to take the bus to Suffolk. Don't ask me why Suffolk, but it seemed important. We were catching the last bus out and I couldn't work the automatic ticket machine. Finally we all ran through the terminal and climbed aboard. It was a weird bus. It was double decker, but too short. Anyway, about a half hour into the bus ride, we realized we were going to the wrong place. And this apparently was a crisis.

Anyway, that's the dream. The reoccuring nature is always some .variety of this - an airplane, bus, boat, cruise ship and the terminal or gate. And things always go wrong. And I always feel the same weird mixture.

This makes me believe that dreams aren't entirely random synapse firings.

So, today the fog is thick. Its more than a little strange. It feels like its still daybreak, because it doesn't make sense to have fog at lunchtime! Cognitive dissonance.

I bought my plane tix to Whistler. Yeh skiing!