Busyfloof

Busyfloof (floofinition) – A meddling, prying, officious, or inquisitive animal.

In use: “Jorge was constantly underfoot, which was a problem, as he was a large, white dog with a fluffy white tail that waved liked a conquering army’s flag. They tried to dissuade him, but the busyfloof was involved in everything from fixing meals to changing diapers, greeting people at the door, answering the phone, and typing on the computer.”

The Shoe Dream

So, as many of my dreams have taken me in the past, there I am, backĀ  in the military after being out for several decades. It’s not a surprising dream sanctuary, and makes sense in many practical ways.

Once again, I’m there, in a command center or command post such as the ones that I spent much of my time. This one has windows, though. That rarely happened. We were often inĀ  secure buildings or underground. As with other dreams, I’m trying to put together a uniform, and it’s all messed up, because I’ve been retired from the military for so long. With much joking and laughing, I get it together and get a semblance of an Air Force uniform on. There are others in this situation, so I’m not overly concerned with the bit. We’ve been called up…enough said on that, right? Yeah, my mind’s workings can be pretty transparent.

I’m worried about my shoes, though. They’re on, but they’re not in great shape. Meanwhile, the situation is developing. I’m senior enlisted there, and the experienced command post guy. The commander, a colonel, has arrived. He’s concerned about the sit. I share his concerns. Beyond the windows is a swollen gray ocean active with slow, heavy waves. We’re walking along the command post, looking out the windows, searching for an impending attack from across the water. Lights draw our attention. We watch, and watch, hoping that they’ll resolve into something more than blurry lights in the distance, ready to act if they do.

We begin walking toward the other end of the command post. I’ve been thinking as the commander and I scanned the sea, and I’d developed a sense that something wasn’t right. Maybe we were looking at the problem the wrong way.

Just as I formulate this to myself, I turned to look through another window and see a huge wave. Rising like a movie scene, it’s rushing toward us. As I see it, a young airman shouts a warning about the wave.

I spring into action, giving orders and directions about what to do as people begin running in panic. As they’re panicking and only a few are doing as I say, I take it upon myself to act.

It’s too late. As I realize that the wave is about to hit, I tell everyone to find cover and find cover myself. The wave slams into the building. Coming through windows, the powerful water wrecks the interior.

It’s over in a flash. I survive in good condition because I’d protected myself. My biggest concern is my…shoe.

Yes, I’m upset because my right shoe is coming apart. It’s not shiny and black, as I kept it throughout my mil career, as trained to do, as we all did; it is dull and white. Man, am I exasperated.

But we need to take care of things. It’s clear that we can’t continue operations in the current location. I and two others, a male and female, take off walking for the alternate command post location. We’re walking alongside a parade ground. I’m lamenting about my shoe as I go.

While walking to the alternate location, we start moving faster. The two I’m with cross to the other side of the parade grounds. We engage in an unspoken pseudo-race at fast walking speed. They become distracted with conversation. Seeing that, grinning, I surreptitiously speed ahead. They notice, and start walking faster, almost catching up. The guy starts running, so I do, too. Laughing, we reach the alt at the same time, and wrestle to get through the door first. I win.

Inside the small, old places, we find things that were left behind, like candy, gum, toys, and clothes. I’m amused as I go through some of the stuff and think about how to make it operational as a new operating location.

Holding up a piece of old candy in a weathered wrapper, I say, “I remember leaving this here.”

The dream ends.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Had to give my cat his L-Lysine last night. Like many receiving treatments for something, he dislikes it. The better he feels, the more he dislikes it, and the more aggressively he resists.

Not alone in this, of course. Mary Poppins taught us that a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. Likewise, many of us treat the situation with a carrot and stick approach – take this medicine, and I’ll reward you.

Talking helps, too. So, I was speaking with T.C., telling him that I know that it tastes bad, but this is medicine that he needs, and I’m only doing it because it makes him feel better, and I want him to feel better because I love him. That all got shortened to, yes, it’s bad medicine, but it’s given with love.

From there, it was an easy switch to Bon Jovi’s 1988 offering, “Bad Medicine”, with T.C. imagined as singing to me.

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