My dreams are always quite vivid. Sometimes they are profound, sometimes they are entertaining, sometimes what they might mean eludes me, every once in a while they are frightening, more often then I’d like to admit they are sexual and sometimes they make me sad. During the last week I have had great dreams – that when I woke up – made me sad. They all had different themes but the same person was in each one with me. In one we were at my Grandpa’s house, in one we were at work, in another we were in no place I’d recognize, in yet another we never left the bed, in one we were just cuddling – it was so real that when I woke up I expected him to be there – and when he wasn’t I started crying. Not too many people can elicit that reaction from me – ok – only one man can get me to react that way. And that moron refuses to speak to me for no reason I can think of – quite frankly – he doesn’t get to be mad – he has no reason to be mad – I have a reason to be mad – and I’m NOT mad – I forgave him – the jackass… OK – back to my point – my dreams have been insane! I don’t understand where they are coming from – and I hate that they have made me sad – but hell, they are great fodder for my novel! If nothing else they make me work harder to make my novel entertaining, fun, creepy and thought provoking  - so that I forget that a dream was able to make me sad.