Nightmarish and dreadful, dragons of doubt and agida disturb my sleep. But 5 people in the last week have said the same thing. Either it’s the full moon’s seductive call to revelry in beam-bright woods outside my bedroom door, or more likely it’s pre-election jitters and post-debate telepathy.

Even though I’ve unfollowed as much of the “nasty” election stuff as possible from emails and FB (as good friend Gail Golden – jeweler extraordinaire de Taos – prescribed for my “electionitis”), I can still feel/see the air is fairly purple with mental and emotional dis-ing content (that’s actually quite a brilliant neologism if I do say so myself: dis-ing + content = dis-content, meaning “content intended to put someone down”).

Regardless the cause, the dragons are searing the ethers within, roaring and fire-breathing outraged sensibility at being roused from their ancient slumber. I haven’t done any research yet to see what historically gets under a dragon’s scaly skin, but I suspect it doesn’t really matter. Feels like you just rather would let that sleeping monster lie.

Hopefully just calling their name and saying firmly, “Basta!” will be enough to give me back my restful nights. Ya think?