Preface: I’ve always slept well; so well that I rarely, if ever, remember my dreams. This blog has become a challenge for me. There exists conscious thought now in effort to catalogue whatever I may experience in the night. What I do remember is always disjointed and usually in black and white. So please forgive any vague descriptions, because in all likelihood I only remember two, maybe three short snapshots of my dreams.

From the semi-lucid note I left myself in effort to remember a dream I offer this:
There was a car, snow, my dad, and something had died. I remember whatever had died had at some point been on the car roof. I can’t remember whether it had fallen off the roof or not. I also remember my dad trying to knock of the snow from the edges of the windshield—ya know, the side parts that never get cleared because the windshield wiper blades aren’t long enough.