Floofvana (floofinition) – A floof grunge (flunge) music trio formed famous for pioneering the Floofattle sound.
In use: “One of Floofvana’s early albums, Smells Like Dirty Kitty Litter, became a multi-platinum album, introducing the Floofattle sound to a global album.”
Note: Not to be confused with Floofvana, the transcendent state.
Eufloofic (floofinition) – Feelings marked by a feeling of peace, joy, and happiness when you’re with an animal.
In use: “Settling on the sofa with her big dog, who she called the Puppy despite his advanced age, she was eufloofic as he put his large head on her lap and they watched the telly. It mattered only a little what was on the telly, as long as he was with her, for he displaced so much of the world’s ugliness with his warm and mellow disposition.”
Yep, here we go, another pants dream.
It began with being at work. I was settling into a new place. It was an open work space. The CEO, who seemed to like me a great deal, was showing me around the place and introducing me to others.
He showed me my work space. Big desk, computer, etc., off to one side of everyone else, besides some steps that went up to a loft area where there were more work spaces. After he told me my assignments, he left. I got to work and finished very quickly. I then began hunting something else to do. Walking around the place, I had a sense that I didn’t belong. After a bit of that, I ventured to visit with the CEO to express that.
Busy with clients, he couldn’t see me right then, but I told his assistant that I didn’t think I was the right fit. She told me not to do anything, be patient, and she’d pass the message on, and then the CEO would speak with me.
I told another friendly co-worker that I didn’t think I fit. He tried to convince me that I did, but really lacked any solid points.
My wife arrived to see if I could go to lunch. Yes, I could, but I needed to change my clothes. I was in shorts. Thinking myself underdressed, I wanted to put on pants.
I’d brought some pants with me to the office. The first pair were dirty, so I didn’t try them on. I had fewer pants than I expected, and than spent some time looking for more. It came down to two pairs of pants. One fit perfectly but wasn’t a style or color that I liked because they were too different. White, tight, with narrow legs, they had diagonal black stripes. I was surprised that they were mine. The next pair were too large but I liked the style. I realized, though, since the first pair fit, I could put them on, and then wear the second pair of pants over them. Then I found a favorite shirt and put that on.
That combination seemed to work. I spent some time walking around, trying that out, verifying that I could move comfortably, and watching others’ reactions. I thought that others admired how I looked. Coming down the stairs from the loft, I saw a reflection of myself, and thought, yes, I look good.
I then left. It was lightly sprinkling outside. The CEO was at a table with clients under an awning. He called me over and introduced me to them, enthusing about me, which embarrassed me. I left to meet my wife.
There was a row of stores and cafes. She was supposed to be waiting for me outside. I figured that since I’d taken so long, she’d probably gone on to a store to kill time. I would check them until I found her.
I was checking the first one when she came in, finding me. As we were talking, she was telling me that she’d run into one of my new co-workers. As she was telling me that, he came in and asked if he could join us for lunch. We said, sure, and went off.
Later (with a dreamshift), my wife had gone. It was growing darker, with daylight fading and lights coming on. My co-worker and I were walking back toward the business. As we were, we saw a party going on and remembered that it was an office party. He went right up and in, urging me to follow. I declined. He said he was just stopping for a few minutes. I decided that I’d wait outside, just past the entrance, and leaned back against the wall.
The party broke up a short time later. My co-worker came out. He joined me, chatting, asking me why I hadn’t gone inside. I told him that I didn’t think that I belonged. As we were talking, another co-worker was striding by below us. Seeing us, he came up the steps and handed me a cup.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“It’s for you,” he answered.
“I thought you needed it, and wanted to give it to you.”
I felt flattered that he’d thought of me, and thanked him. He left. As he did, my friend and I began to walk. I drank from the cup that’d been given to me and discovered it was strong, sweet tea. It tasted wonderful. I began thinking, maybe I do belong here.
The dream ended.
Today is Saturday, March 28, 2020, day fifteen of our self-isolation (yeah, we jumped on it early).
I realized this morning that I didn’t see anyone’s face except my wife (with exceptions via technology). This isolation and watchfulness brought an old song up into the mental music stream this morning. Part of it were lines brought up by news of people who refused to follow guidance.
Here’s the Jimi Hendrix Experience covering Bob Dylan’s “All Along the Watchtower” (1968).