Shower the people you love ...

The weekend was good. Very nice. T and I rented some movies, did some shopping, made some dinner, and basically just enjoyed each other's company. I worked at the shop on Saturday, he had a pitch meeting with another local theatre company, and then we settled back into our DVD groove. Don't listen to the critics -- Elizabethtown is signature Cameron Crowe; beautiful moments, a moving story, and an entertaining piece of cinema worth your time investment. The man is a lovely writer. The Brothers Grimm, however, was beyond awful. What a misfire. Yikes. But ... all said, a very nice, relaxing, low-key weekend. LOVE those.

I had a dream last night that our shower was outside, in a garage, and everything was covered in ice. I saw my breath as I made the trek from the house to the shower, I felt the chill on my skin, and I longed for the warmth of the water. I could really feel the longing, like a hunger. While I was standing under the spray, I realized I was going to have to turn the warm water OFF at some point and brave the cold to walk back toward the house. But at that moment, all I cared about was feeling the water glide over me. I watched it slide across my skin, clearing the soap and taking the grime with it. I saw the steady trickle of water melt the ice under my feet, and watched the warmth spread so the glass-like sheath covering the entire floor of the garage began to disappear. I felt powerful. In control. Strong. I began kicking the water around, flailing somewhat, and splattered the walls with droplets, hearing them crack as they slammed against the ice on the walls. I was mesmerized -- watching icy strips fall around me, disappearing as they dissolved, and swirling into the drain. Gone. Washed away. I began to cry, happy that the cold was dissipating, joyful that the water was cleansing not just my body, but my surroundings. And then the damn alarm blared and I was shocked into the reality of my Monday.

I wonder what that was all about?