Finding Himself

He’d been in darkness for so long, he’d last track of who he was. Questions plagued him about the value he put on himself, his purpose and goals, maddening lack of motivation, and most of all, who he was . He was so lonely, never seeing others. Sometimes he heard them and yearned to be part of the conversations and celebrations, but he never seemed to have the courage or strength needed to make that change.

Then, one day, the Earth moved in a starling way. He felt a hand on him. It drew him into a light.

“What’s that?” someone said as he blinked against the unaccustomed brightness.

“A wrinkled old ten dollar bill,” someone else said. “Woo hoo, I’m rich. Beer’s on me.”


Monday’s Theme Music

I have friends who love this song, “The Safety Dance” (1982). It is quite catchy, and troubling for me, once it’s in my ear, it’s hard to dislodge. Those lyrics —

We can dance if we want to
We can leave your friends behind
‘Cause your friends don’t dance and if they don’t dance
Well, they’re no friends of mine

Say, we can go where we want to
A place where they will never find
And we can act like we come from out of this world
Leave the real one far behind

And we can dance

h/t to

The words are easy to exploit to use for other purposes. For example, I have sung to my cats, “You can eat if you want to, or you can leave your food behind. But if you don’t eat, you won’t get a treat, and it’s your fault, not mine.”

So, here, enjoy “Men Without Hats”.


Floofhaha (floofinition) – an uproar caused by a housepet.

In use: “A floofhaha erupted when one cat jumped onto the table – where no animal was authorized – and the beagle started barking to alert the people about the crime, causing the flighty young tabby cat to leap off the window sill to a coffee table, where they slid into houseplant, sending it crashing to the floor.”

Another Car Dream

It was the second part of the dream, begun as I was exiting the first part. Walking across rich, deep green grass of a valley floor, with roads on the hillside above me, I met an elderly white woman. She said, “I have an opportunity for you.”

“Hang on,” I said. I briefly returned to the first part of my dream to tie up some loose ends, telling people, “This woman says she has an opportunity, so I need to go on,” and then resumed the second part.

The dream’s first part had left me satisfied and triumphant with the outcome. I had the sense that I’d made progress, and was continuing to progress, setting the stage for the second part. I was in a confident mood, meeting this woman. She said, “I’d like you to buy and drive exotic cars for me.”

I briefly thought she meant that she wanted me to be her driver, but she said, “I want you to thrash the cars, trash them. I want you to drive them without care and wreck them.”

I said, “You want me to wreck cars?”

“Yes, I want you to buy expensive cars like Ferraris and Aston Martins and drive them like you’re an average driver in an average car.” When she said this, I saw a red Ferrari go by on a hillside road above me. It was like she’d summoned the car.

Her suggestion that I was an average driver and that I’d wreck these cars when I drove them irritated me. “Why do you want me to do this?” I said.

“As a show.” While I thought, television, she said, “No, not like that dreadful Top Gear or those other ones. Buy these cars and live them in the real world and drive them hard. I’ll give you the money. You buy the cars and drive them.”

“And wreck them.”

“If that happens. I want to show what it’s really like having these cars and driving them.”

It was weird to me. I said, “I can imagine my friends’ reaction to this, when I say some lady wants me to buy expensive cars and drive them, and don’t worry about wrecking them.”

“What do you say?” she said.

“I have to think about it,” I said.

“Why? You’ll be paid to drive wonderful cars, without any concerns about what happens to them.”

“I know,” I said, “but it seems wrong.”

The dream ended.

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