(In an unrelated, overly nerdy grammar-whore moment, I think all these book titles are technically supposed to be underlined, but I'm not certain AND I don't like the way that looks. And this is MY blog, dangit.)
The job hunting hasn't been quite as fruitful or a focused as I would hope it to be this week, but I did get several more applications off. And we'll start again, maybe as soon as tomorrow, but not before I have a wonderful visitor! My dear friend Laura, who graduated from the seminary with me in May, is in Portland as of tonight, and we're having (late) breakfast in the morning. So, so excited to see her.
I keep having a dream that's not exactly recurring, but the theme and motif are the same: there's some kind of robbery going on, in a bank or a home, and I show up late. Sometimes I know the robbers, sometimes I don't. but every time, I sneak in the midst of the chaos, grab some stuff, and then leave without anyone saying anything (when it was a bank robbery, I had three full sacks with big dollar signs on them, like in the cartoons, that I just picked up off the floor). I leave, and about five minutes later, I am overwhelmed with guilt, looking at my spoils. I have stolen these, I think. I'm officially a theif.
I never repent or return what I have taken, though, because that's always when I wake up. I view dream analysis with a very untrusting eye, but I'd be interested to hear thoughts.