You will find dreams in these notes as well as memories of daytime life. In many cases, my dreams are more vivid, more real, than my daily memories. But this memory is from life. It's a small memory, just a snapshot.
It is the same house where we found Mickey, I think. This was in Pasadena, though possible Covina. No, I think Pasadena.
The house is California stucko, with an arched doorway, perhaps to the porch. There are plants. We owned a basset hound, a lovely, friendly, tenacious beast. I took apart a vaccuum cleaner. I ate books. I was young there, three to six maybe? In this memory I am maybe five or six.
Breathing deeply, the smoggy air hurt my lungs. So I didn't breath deeply. Until I took TaiChi, I continued to barely breath... just enough, not too deeply. Because breathing hurt.
A jolly childhood memory, don't you think?