This should probably be three posts, but I’m too tired of dealing with it to break it out.  I may or may not edit it into decent shape — some day.  This is the culmination of three months’ events, so just try to suss it out or go read Girl Genius or something.

I was thinking of my dream the other night. Coyote looked very like Skinner in the X-Files; fit, kind eyes (even when serious), and shaven bald. He was dressed in dark slacks and a white dress shirt, short sleeved or rolled up sleeves. Daddy was bald in the last years of his life. Something clicked, there.

I am not, in general, given to dreams of spritual depth and profundity, but I woke two days ago with a disturbing, ah, experience still with me. Neither the the experience nor the deep unsettle have gone away. Hopefully, writing will either expand or exorcise my awareness. Anyway.

Old Man Coyote is a 50ish urban professional,