This could only happen to me

Simply Sweden:
Apparently you can't get through a winter in Sweden without wiping out on the ice patches. Oh, and big shafts of ice also work themselves loose and dive into passerby.

**

Last night I ran around strangling people. Clones, actually. And they were in my dream, so that almost makes it better. I mean it would be problematic to indict someone based on dream crimes. Unless you're talking Inception. But that's a dream too.

The problem with clones is they look like real people. And they're evil. So I was madly running around trying to warn people before they got cloned that a clone of themselves might appear. I tried to explain how to recognize if it was their clone or a real person. In retrospect, this information was fairly superfluous – 95% of the time you're the one who can tell if it's a clone or yourself. You're having a pretty serious identity crisis if you aren't sure whether you are yourself or your clone.

Anyways, the clones tended to give themselves away by repetitively muttering something along the lines of "We want you, we want you." So that was helpful.

I spent my night sprinting towards people, discerning if they were a clone, warning them if they weren't, and violently attacking them if they were. I didn't feel guilty then, and I still don't. They're clones.

**

Right, I know. Nobody really wants to hear about someone's dream. Dreams are filled with intense emotions that don't translate in "reality." They differ from memories because they don't deal with normal laws: time, gravity, our freedom from clones. It's hard for a listener to empathize. And, of course, they aren't "real," so they're considered less significant.

Also, half the time dreams are stupid, but the dreamworld was felt so strongly by the dreamer that he/she thinks it will somehow translate to the listener: "And then we walked over to this building! And I was with Mike, but he looked like Jake, but I knew it was Mike!" Or, the dreamworld isn't fantastic, it's mundane, and the subconscious is having extended conversations with friends. Just sitting and talking.

Fine, nobody really needs to share those dreams.

But what if the most interesting thing I did this week was fight clones? Why shouldn't I tell you about that story instead of how I missed my alarm and was late for the bus and blah blah blah? Most conversations are silly, small-talk affairs; why should it make a difference if our stories happened in our head or in the realm we share with others?

Maybe it's selfish to expect someone to only talk to you about something you could have done.

Clones, man. Get you thinking.

Oh, and next time you're telling someone a dream and they're acting like they actually care, consider these options: Either

1) they are faking it, OR
2) they feel guilty and are trying to make it up to you by listening, OR
3) you are a terrific storyteller, OR
4) they think you are telling them something that actually happened (notice their expression when you mention how you started flying and your cape changed colors) OR
5) your dreams are actually entertaining to the general population, OR
6) your listener is madly in love with you and listening very carefully trying to decipher a hidden symbol of reciprocated affection (ie. in my case: were you a clone in my dream? Did I strangle you or shoot you? etc.)

**

We're house sitting a dog named Peanut. He's small, white and fluffy and we generally refer to him as a "she," despite the Harley Davidson handkerchief his owners tied around his neck in an attempt to avoid such gender confusion.

We also call him Peepee. This is because everytime he sees a leash he gets so excited that he tinkles on the carpet.

**

There are some marvelous radio stations here. This was playing yesterday: