Dreams, Dogs and Words

 
My Wednesday started at 3:08 this morning.  The dead zone.  The witching hour.  The buggers-now-I-won't-get-back-to-sleep-anytime-soon hour.
 
I have no clue what actually woke me, but the words were still ringing in my ears.  Sturm und Drang.  I rolled over and stared at the ceiling for several seconds, listening as the word echoes faded into some distant black hole in my brain.  Sturm und Drang.  What in the world could I have been dreaming about?   Nothing comes to mind except the words.  I know Sturm und means Storm and, but I can't remember what Drang means.  Danger?  Despair?  I toy with the idea of getting up, finding my dictionary, but I don't want to be on the prowl at 3:00 in the bloody morning, though I still toss and turn for nearly an hour, the words running in a continuous loop in my mind until I finally fall asleep.
 
This morning, cup of coffee in hand, I sit at the laptop and immediately go to Wikipedia.  Drang means several things, as it turns out: turmoil, urge, impulse, drive.  So.  Storm and Drive?  Storm and Impulse?  No matter what word is used for Drang, the phrase basically means expressing extremes of emotion...in other words, the opposite of rationalism.
 
According to Wiki:  The protagonist in a typical Sturm und Drang stage work, poem, or novel is driven to action—often violent action—not by pursuit of noble means nor by true motives, but by revenge and greed.

I'm confused, and a bit concerned at what appears to be percolating in my subconscious.  I'm not a vengeful person, nor greedy, and most assuredly not violent.  What could these dream words mean?

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More words.

After breakfast and my shower, I'm getting ready to head down the mountain and out into the valley to take the boys to the county park for a good, long walk.  I have a checklist--which I recite out loud to the dogs as they patiently wait for the only words they want to hear.

Phone...check

Watch...check

Water...check

Treats...check

Poop bags...check

Keys...check

Purse...check

Now they're at full attention, tails stiff, totally focused on me--and this part always makes me laugh:

When I say "Ready to rock and roll?"  Ozzy leaps to his food dish and grabs a mouthful, chewing as fast as he can.  I don't know why he does this, but it's like he needs one more boost of food for the walk ahead.

Max hasn't moved.  He also hasn't taken his eyes off me.  Then I say, in a very good imitation of Barbara Woodhouse, the British dog trainer, "Time for walkies!" and Max barks and runs in circles, overcome with excitement.

I have no idea how this all started, but somehow it's become our daily ritual.

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After a great walk at the park, quick dash to the store and a drive thru at my favorite coffee kiosk, we head home.  As I come around the bend just before my house, I hear it.  Even over the sound of the Blazer and the radio, I hear it.  And suddenly, in that crystal clear moment, Sturm und Drang finally makes perfect sense.
 
The leaf blowing lunatic is already starting her maniacal assault on the ever-present leaves, my ears and my solace.

No wonder my dreams are fraught...