This morning I was able to dream normally, so I was happy for that. Dreams are like oracles from a wiser part of ourselves, and I always feel more human with a dream life. Dreams form our conscience. A hundred years ago, people used the word “moral” to refer to everything psychological, and “conscience” was synonymous with “consciousness.” I’m still torn between biology and psychology as they pertain to behavior. The streets are drenched from the rain last night, like every November, the sky a solid gray sheet. Some of the leaves underfoot are treacherous on the way to Maxwell Road. Michelle at the market wore her blue shirt that says, “Well bless your heart!” They were very busy with customers today. Everyone was courteous and kind to each other. I saw mostly guys, but also a few women and girls. Roger was just coming home in his Dodge Caravan when I rounded N. Park. I read the headlines in Apple News this morning, but went no further. Occasionally I skip the news completely; it’s either bad stuff or something off the wall and silly. Also Misty called me out of the blue and asked to reschedule my visit two weeks from now. There’s a low rumbling noise in the southwest, probably railroad sounds. Now a train horn blows. Life indeed goes on.