Formless dread.

It begin with a burst of static on the radio this morning. Seconds later, a rumble of far-off thunder. Then, with increasing frequency, flashes in the darkening sky and pelting rain. For perhaps a half-hour, there was a real storm outside; as is typical for this area, it didn't last long.

Ordinary, I would revel in such weather. I've always loved thunderstorms, always loved rain. I'm one of those idiots who loves to stand outdoors to watch lightning and doesn't mind going for long walks in the rain.

Not today.

I felt somewhat disoriented when I woke up this morning. There was no chemical reason for this, no hangover from a night of heavy drinking (since I didn't have so much as a sip of alcohol last night). I didn't fall asleep listening to George Noory for once; perhaps the nightmares I experienced but can't recall imprinted some message in my mind. The first few chores of the morning -- feeding the cat, making coffee -- were performed in a kind of daze.

In any case, that formless feeling of impending disaster is with me today.

I know what could go wrong today, believe me. Almost everything bad that might happen has happened, at one time or another. I've made enough mistakes in a wide variety of ways to ensure extensive experience with disasters large and small.

This is different. Perhaps the amorphous fear is of a combination of unpleasant events, a veritable avalanche of bad things engulfing me all at once.

Whatever it might be, I'm not ready for it. I can't do anything more than sit here and wait for the ax to fall, have no energy or spare mental capacity to resist or cope.

My only hope is that nothing will happen. After all, on those days when I wake up feeling sure something good lies ahead, nothing happens.

Hoping for nothing is not a good feeling.