The Flagpole Dream

Fade in: I’m outside with others. Someone mentions a neighbor’s flagpole. That flagpole causes something to happen. I respond, “Well, they should move it, then.” There are protests about how difficult that would be, but I say, “That shouldn’t be hard. Hard, yes, but it can be done. It’ll just take some effort.”

Next up: someone announces, “We’re going to go help the neighbors.”

Cross-talk follows. I gather that the neighbor is following up on my idea to move their flagpole.

A flirtatious and vivacious middle-aged white woman with short blonde hair with highlights asks me, “Are you going to help, Michael?”

I envision digging a hole, so I shrug. “Sure. Let me get a shovel.”

Reaching ‘off stage’ I find a spade. “I’m ready.” Everyone else, about eight of us, were also ready.

“Let’s go,” the middle-aged woman says.

We walk down the street as a group. Arriving at the neighbor’s yard, we present ourselves as a small squad at attention. Our intention is announced.

The neighbor thanks us. Then he says, “Okay, thanks. Come on, Michael.”

“What?”

“Show us what we’re supposed to do.”

“Me?”

“I thought you knew how to move it.”

I think through this in the dream, readying protests, but then overcome my doubts. “Okay, sure.” I believe that I can solve any problems on the fly. “Well, first, let’s remove it from its old location.”

He shows me the silver flagpole. It seems to be brushed aluminum. As I approach it, I call to the rest, “Okay, everyone, come on over and let’s figure out how to move it.” Then I put my hands around the flagpole and give it a jerk, to test how secure it is.

I almost fall over as the flagpole comes out. Startled, I set it down. The neighbor explains, “It wasn’t fixed in place.”

“No kidding.” I look into the hole where the pole had been. It seems light, and there’s clear water. Something is swimming in there. I think it’s an eel. Stepping back with surprise, I begin to speak but the neighbor interrupts me. As he’s talking, a moray eel leaps out of the water and tries to bite his arm.

I’m shocked. It seems like the neighbor didn’t notice. Glancing around, it seems like no one saw what I did.

I tell everyone what I think I saw. As I do, an eel leaps out and tries to bite my arm. People see that. As we’re talking about what it means, the eel climbs out of the water and rests on the outside of the hole. I’m trying to understand what this means. It means danger to me, but it also means something unusual, something that needs investigated.

Engineers arrive to speak with the neighbor about where to put his flagpole. While they’re talking, I see several lobsters climb out of the hole. I’m amazed but I have no idea what’s going on.

The engineers then notice the lobsters and stop talking.

The dream ends.

Befloofed

Befloofed (floofinition) – The animal to whom one is completely and solely committed in a monofloof relationship.

In use: “She would’ve enjoyed having another rescue cat in her home, even two more, but Flash made it clear that they were befloofed and wasn’t interested in an open relationship with any other animals, or people.”

The Favor

The young, slender woman with short dark hair said, “Excuse me.”

Looking up from his Apple laptop, the man raised his bushy eyebrows. Seeing the woman, he adjusted his thick glasses and smiled. He noticed her when she sat. Yes, she was attractive, and looked fit, but she reminded him of his daughter. She would’ve been about the same age, had she lived. “Yes?”

“Can you do me a favor? I need to use the restroom. Would you mind watching my bag for me?”

“That bag?” The man pointed at the green bag on the table. “Is that the bag?”

“Yes, that’s the very one.”

“Okay, I’ll watch it. But what should I be watching it to do? Does it do tricks?”

The woman laughed. “Yes, sometimes it dances. I’ve seen it but nobody else has ever seen it, so you’d be really helping me if you watched my bag.”

“Well, a dancing bag, I certainly will keep an eye on it. I’ll keep an eagle eye on it. I’ll turn on my laptop’s video and record it, in case it starts dancing.”

Laughing again, the woman said, “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

She headed to the restroom with the man watching, smiling after her. Beginning to return to his computer, he caught movement. Looking up, he gasped.

Her green bag was doing a jig on the table. As he gawked, the bag completed a spin move, then fell back and hopped up. As it danced more, he glanced around for signs of hidden cameras or other witnesses.

The restroom door opened. The bag flopped onto the table into its original position.

“Thank you,” the woman said, returning. “Did my bag dance for you?”

“Yes,” the man said. “It did dance. I wish I had recorded it. Your bag stood up and danced.”

Beginning to sit, the woman stared at him. As she said, “What,” he said, “Is this a joke? Am I on one of those prank shows like Candid Camera?” 

“No, it’ s not a joke.” Picking up the green bag, the woman stepped closer to the man. “I thought you might — ” Her voice was low. “I need your help. Please come with me.”

Turning, she walked away, calling back over her shoulder, “Come on, hurry.”

Packing up his laptop, the man muttered, “Okay, okay, I will, I’m coming, but you have some explaining to do.” As he rushed after her, he muttered, “I should’ve never agreed to watch her bag.”

Thursday’s Theme Music

Just out of speaking with friends, reading the news, remembering the past, and pondering the future…

Into the stream came a song from The Falcon and the Snowman based on the book with the same title, with more words in it. A friend received it in a slush pile, read it through the evening one Friday, looked up the author and discovered they were in the same area code. The book excited him. A phone call was made against all standard protocols. Arrangements were made to connect the following Monday to talk about going forward.

Alas, by then, the author had contacted an agent, and everything changed. The book went to another publishing house, to my buddy’s dismay.

Meanwhile, the song — also with the same name — by Pat Metheny with David Bowie on vocas, reflects the disbelief and denial that I feel while reading the news. It isn’t particular to this era. I always think we should learn and move forward, but my idea of moving forward doesn’t align with what others think and want. To me, it’s like they’re moving backward and repeating history as they insist that we’re going forward.

Anyone, this 1985 ditty expresses my point of view. Cheers

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