Floofrageous (floofinition) – Animal behavior which is not conventional or matter-of-fact.

In use: “Defining floofrageous behavior for people owned by cats is difficult as cats often stretch the boundaries of what’s acceptable, respectable, or normal.”

The Progress of

The progress of the novel in progress: Arsehold is safely behind my heroes. The outlaw and the recos have an unspoken working truce in place. Selfie, Kitkat, and Cher has joined them on Ted. Today I write Zippers. So sorry Zippers is dead, but the muses called it. It was apparently about the Qiqz. I need to write it to find out.

Yeah, having fun, knock on wood. Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Our winter snow has passed, leaving us with one inch on my yard, walk, drive, etc. Mostly blue, a gray haze veils the blue. Sunshine washes the snow, drawing up a picturesque scene, and flurries still fall. The snowplow is scrapping the road, dropping red cinders in its path.

Sunrise was at 7:29 AM on this Wednesday morning and sunset will be at 5:19 PM. It’s 34 degrees F outside, and we’re not expecting to advance much higher on the thermometer. It’s January 27, 2021.

Our state and county continue heralding a trend of lower coronavirus positive case numbers. The first wave of county vaccinations are completed; more are being planned. Mine is somewhere in the future.

Although “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd kept playing during one dream, after thinking about the dreams, “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit (1999) entered the scene during the morning’s reflections. After the plethora of bizarre dreams featuring deceased family members, cigars, pies, and jigsaw puzzles, I started remarking to myself and the world (strictly rhetorically, right?), please tell me why I’m having these strange dreams.

“Please tell me why,” is featured as a refrain in “My Own Worst Enemy”, so my mind, acting like some mis-programmed Alexa, began playing the Lit song.

So here we are. Enjoy the video; I’d never seen it before. The bowling alley setting intrigued me. Be safe, test positive, stay negative, wear a mask, and vaccinate. Cheers

Somewhere in the Future

Somewhere in the future

I sit and read

various books written by me

I lounge on beaches

soak in the sun

drink wine and read

till night’s begun

I visit friends and families

hug them all hello

ask them how their day went

tell them how it goes

I visit restaurants and shop in stores

I run around the great outdoors

and if I want, I have a sit

whenever I want, until I quit

those days are possible

I know they’re coming

somewhere in the future

The Four Pies Dream

I dreamed I was to deliver four pies to people living in the woods. A young person was assisting me. I don’t know what flavors the pies were, but part of it was that I heat the pies and cut each into six equal slices, and then deliver them. The entire time that this is going on, “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd is playing. I don’t know the source of that.

Being a dream where things don’t always make sense, the pies were in a car, a light blue little machine of unknown name. Also in a car was a young white child. The child was a threat, others told me; don’t let him bite you, and don’t let him out of the car.

But I also heat the pies in the car, and could see them through two large side glass windows. I’d already cut them before heating them. Now they were ready.

My young assistant and I slide the windows down preparatory to opening the doors to get the pies. Here comes the kid! Oh, no! I was talking to him in a soothing voice, asking him if he’d like a piece of pie. He rushed forward. “He’s going to bite us,” my young assistant yelled. “Put the windows up,” I shouted. We slid them up.

Round two. “This is ridiculous,” I said, laughing. “Let’s try again.” We reheated the pies. How? I don’t know. It’s something I said in the dream, then waited for seconds, if that, and they were done. We slid down the windows. I talked to the child as I did. The child stayed back. We opened the doors and started taking out the pies. The child rushed us. We returned the pies, closed the doors, and shut the windows before he could reach us.

Others were concerned; that’d been close. He almost reached us. “Third times a charm,” I announced. “Let’s try again.” All progressed as before. We were able to get the pies out. I gave the child in the car a piece of pie. I think that was southern pecan. He sat down and started eating.

Success achieved.

Bonus dream: I was with my youngest sister, L. We were in her car, a blue Mustang convertible. The car was about ten years old. She was driving and I was a passenger. We’d stopped for her to talk with a friend. In the course of that, I got out to stretch my legs and was standing a few feet behind the car. The passenger door was open. My sister announced to the other that she was going to back the car up. I called out to her, warning her that her door was open, that she was going to remove the door.

She ignored me or didn’t hear…whatever, she backed the car up. The open door hit a brick wall and was torn away. Reacting with horrified dismay, she stopped the car. As I told her that I’d been telling her about the open door, we hurried to assess the damage. I expected the door to be gone but instead, the top layer of paint had been peeled off like it was molded part that fit over it, leaving the door intact — and still attached to the car — but a flat black color.

As I tried to understand how that had transpired while sympathizing with my sister, she mentioned that it bugged her because she was going to get a new car, and now her trade-in value would be lower. The whole thing left me subdued, wondering what’d happening, how it happening, and at her muted reaction.

The dream ended.

I could go on with the other dreams — oh, what a night — but those two were the prominent ones.

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