Heat fed memories click on. Summertime in Pittsburgh, PA. The Good Humor truck. A race to get money for ice cream. The weight of decisions. Buying for little sisters.
Outside all day. Popping bubbles that rise in the asphalt. Riding bikes. Pedaling as fast as childishly possible to get the wind running your hair back. Playing with Matchbox cars in someone’s shady side yard. Trekking to the creek. Attempting to construct dams. Baseball, softball. Sometimes swimming at a public pool. Chlorine up your nostrils. Red eyes and wrinkled fingers. Walking around. Sweating. Fanning ourselves. Seeking Popsicles. Grinning as we drip with watermelon juice running down our chins. Sunscreen? Suntan lotion was used — at the beach or pool. Never anywhere else.
But…don’t ever recall a hundred degree heat. When ninety was encountered, oh my gosh, is it hot. I’m melting. Ninety now…give me ninety all day. We’re talking 113. 118. Sitting inside by the ‘puter. Or reading. Watching the cats melt.
Same planet. Different world.
This is not about the television series. This dream was about Mary & Bruce, names given to them for this dream. May worked for me. I met Bruce through others. He and I became good friends. He and Mary married.
Bruce has died in the dream. I just found out about it. He’s such a wonderful person, I’m completely shocked by his passing.
Mary has become a VIP. I want to see her to learn about Bruce’s death. In parallel, I’m told by another that Mary got him a good deal on a Jeep. I decide that I’d like to try to get a good deal when I see Mary to learn about Bruce’s death.
I call her office. There’s a little verbal altercation between me and her assistant. They don’t know who I am. Mary is a VIP with a heavy schedule. I’d like to see her. Mary comes on the line and tells me, “Of course I’ll see you, Sergeant Seidel,” just like we’re still in the service and she’s working for me. “I’ll make time.”
I go to her via a traveling montage. Arriving, I learn that Mary is struggling to get some photographs developed. I look for and find the photographs. They’re of her and Bruce and their children while on vacation. There’s also some photographs of symbols on walls. I understand that photographing them is forbidden. This is why the photos aren’t developing right. But I still believe I can fix them.
Mary and I met and walk along outside. She’s lovely as ever. Yes, she can get me a car discount, she tells me. We don’t really talk about Bruce’s death, just that he abruptly passed away. She misses him but she’s okay.
She has to return to work. I walk with her. We come across a man. He’s a VP who works for Mary. He’s tried to develop the photographs and couldn’t do it. I tell Mary that I want to try. She agrees. Tells me to take the photographs and see what I can do, but she wants them back. I agree. I’m wearing a leather jacket and slip them inside. Then I get on a motorcyle and ride away.
The annual rewind has begun. Not what’s happening, of course. More about revolutions and rotations. The essence, though, is that our daylight hours are beginning their seasonal wane.
Today is Monday, June 28, 2021. Sol’s golden beating began at 5:36 AM, a minute later than yesterday. By 7:45, the thermometer was climbing past 86 degrees F. We expected 110 in our southern Oregon valley today. We’ll get some relief tonight, after the sun moves on at 8:51 PM. The temperatures are expected to drop to 66 then.
I was in a work groove yesterday. Finished wall number three. On to number four this week, completing the great room saga, I mean, painting. Then it’ll be…other rooms.
While painting, I was writing in my head, going through plot lines and character arcs, imagining new scenes, re-thinking old ones, working my way toward a better ending. With this going on — writing in my head and painting the great room (and dealing with the heat) (yeah, okay, I turned on the A/C) — a song from 1970 entered the mental musical rotation stream. By King George, the song is called “Groove Me”. It’s a nice taste of R&B. I enjoyed the backstory of how this song came to be. King George worked in a factory a few feet from a young woman. They saw each other every day, but he was too shy to say anything. He finally wrote this song as a poem to give her. But he never saw her again.
Stay positive, test neggy, wear a mask when needed, and get the vax. Thanks. Here’s the music.