Children of the Wasteland

Ever have those days when you get nice little reminders that you’re in the Dreaming, wide awake? You’re controlling this world, its novelties, its eccentricities, it’s intricacies…but in a way that’s in harmony with some over arching order, some as-yet unrevealed destiny or path. Ka like the wind, as a gunslinger would say. Well, today’s one of those days.

My folks have a farm, and four farm dogs, all ranging from seven to fourteen years of age. The two best guard dogs are on the upper end of that age curve, so they’ve been talking about getting a new dog. The last time I was out, I was like, “You’re gonna need to get a big, white, beautiful Pyrenees mix.” I said that several times over the past couple of weeks and would consciously think about how nice it would be to have a giant white dog. I’ve been wanting one forever, since before I got my little Sirian spy, Pele.

So what shows up at the gate this morning? A big, white, beautiful Pyrenees mix. With big, black eyes and a huge heart that’s followed my mom everywhere today. She’s on the farm alone a lot, so I like that she’s got a time and space bending, magically manifested shepherd to watch over her. Oh Mr. McKenna, your novelty is exponentiating towards some creative event horizon that I’m sure you can see, now that you’re no longer limited to your meat suit. What a cool world.