these boots were made for walkin’

No, not white Go-Go boots (I think I owned a pair when I was a kid. Really.). And not Nancy Sinatra.

Perhaps something like this:

Only, really, more like this:

It seems I’ve been dreaming about walking for about a week. Not hiking mountains with beautiful vistas. Not hiking through the woods hoping to find a cool spring. Nope.

I’ve been walking through streets and alleys in what appears to be a seaside town somewhere along the east coast, probably the northeast because it doesn’t look like anything I’ve experienced in Florida, Georgia, and the Carolinas. Now add the creep factor of cutting through people’s yards and picking up snippets of their daily lives (at least I’m walking through and not actively being a Peeping Tom Bego).

When I was an undergrad majoring in psychology, I used to keep a dream journal. I don’t remember what any of this means. My guess is probably as good as yours.

Too bad I’m not getting the health benefits of all this walking, but I am waking up with a clear head. Go figure.