My father's more coherent today, but still acting slightly jittery.
My sleep was plagued with nightmares, due to last night's intense anxiety.
I dreamed I acquired some kind of wildcat or bobcat as a pet, which then killed a neighbor's kitten. I was worried what they'd do when they found out.
Also had a very disquieting dream in which I was being interviewed, again, by Prestigious, this time accompanying the staff on some kind of camping trip. We all drove somewhere in a van. Most of them were giving me the cold shoulder. Friar was there, too, for some reason, and I overheard someone telling him that my position wasn't, after all, a sure thing, which upset me further.
Norman Mailer died. I've never read any of his works, and his public persona was a bit coarse, but anyone who head-butted Gore Vidal can't be all bad.
I was supposed to have lunch with Maddening Angel today (it's been ages since I last saw her), but spent my afternoon instead driving my father around, as his accident yesterday has left him chary of driving at all.