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Have you ever had a dream so vivid that you felt as if it was a message from the universe? It happened to me yesterday at 5 AM, so I bolted out of bed to write it down.

A lovely voice was singing to the tune of Al Green’s “So Tired of Being Alone” with different lyrics.

She sang:

When you’re out of here

When you can’t go on

When you feel like giving up wherever you go

And it bothered me. My first thought was to worry that my son might be feeling this way, so before he left for work yesterday, I told him about the dream and asked him if he was feeling like that. He said he wasn’t. I said, “I’m aware that I don’t always leave open avenues for our actually communicating. Often, I come at you with tasks or concerns instead of listening.” I asked the second question. “Do you want to talk about anything going on in your life right now?” He really listened to what I said. He told me he knew he could talk to me, and that he was okay.

Who was this message for?

In that patented Nicely-Noodgy way I have, I’m now in the process of cycling through my list of loved ones and contacting them. You okay? Had this dream. Want to make sure you’re feeling copasetic.

So when you ask the people in your life, “Are you okay?” and they say, “I’m fine,” ask the second question. “How are doing, really?”

Check on your loved ones.

Don’t tune out.

Check in with your soul.

Don’t check out.

We’d love it if you stuck around. We’ll stick by you. Let’s make it better, together.

P.S. If you need to talk, the National Suicide Prevention Hotline number is 800-273-TALK (8255).

This may seem apropos of nothing, but I’ve been spending time this week thinking about, well…. zombies.

I’ve got a theory. I think zombies are really just misunderstood. Don’t you? I mean, nobody asks to be undead. Do they? They always look like they’re in a bad mood, but maybe they’re just lactose intolerant. You may assume they’re coming to nosh on your neck, but who knows? Maybe they just ate some bad cheese.

It had to be this one: Gorgonzola. That has to be the official cheese of the apocalypse. It just sounds like the end of the world to me. Try it. Say it in a spooky voice: Gor-gon-ZOH-laaaa. Mwahaha.

Why, you may ask, am I writing about zombies on this, a blog about prayer? Well, it’s the only way I know to take my mind off things that I just can’t get my head around.

Things in life, generally.

Things in the news, specifically.

How about you? Heard any interesting news stories lately?

Anything grab your eye with that recent, oh, I don’t know, presidential election?

Hard as it is to imagine, zombies seem more light-hearted to me right now than what’s been going on in politics lately, so please indulge me.

I’m sure I’ll be back to my old self, soon, but in the meantime, do you know where most zombies live these days? Somewhere in New York between Hell’s Kitchen and Great Kills.

How disappointed were the zombies that got off a tour bus at the town of Braintree, anyway? Certainly false advertising. They may have grounds to sue!

There’s a town in Tennessee that zombies love that sums up everything going on lately. It’s name? Bitter End.

Despite the zombies and gorgonzola, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll wake up with the sun again tomorrow. We’ll find a way to work through what seems too much to bear right now. In the meantime, put your mind on something else – anything else, even zombies – till we find a way to make things better, together.

Have a Mary Little Christmas

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