Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Greetings from Terra.
Today is Wednesday, September 22, 2021. Fall is fully on us in my planetary niche. The sun poured liquid gold into the valley this morning at 6:58 AM. Sunset won’t come until 7:10 PM so we’re not really at equinox, yet. Not at that point when the daylight and night stand as equal. The pincers are closing, though. It’ll come soon.
Our air quality is still Good, but on the scale’s upper end of that part of the spectrum, ranging from the low twenties to the mid forties, with two places edging over fifty and into the yellow zone – Moderate. The region’s rains definitely helped the wildfire battles in Oregon and Nor Cal. It’s a relief that the rain came.
Temperature yesterday topped 90 F. Expect the same today. It’s easily endured with fresh air and temperatures cooling into the fifties at night. Yesterday also saw a windy morning. Drove the three house beasts inside. These cats are not fans of wind.
Which brought to mind a Gerry Rafferty song from the last century, circa 1978. As I surveyed the cats in their sleeping positions on living room chairs, I thought, look at them, sleeping right down the line. Naturally, my brain, acting like Alexa, said, “Playing Gerry Rafferty, ‘Right Down the Line'”. So it was the song entered the music stream and remains in the morning mental music stream. I don’t mind; the song refreshes memory from that year in my life — getting out of the military, going to college, owning a restaurant, working a second job, returning to the military — quite a year.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, get the vax, drink plenty of fluids and get some rest. Here’s the music. I’m off for coffee. Cheers
Although it’s the moving-planets dream, it segued into a pants dream. That’s how I first thought of it.
We were given papers. “Follow the instructions on the papers,” we were all told. I’m not certain how many others were there. I’d guess about forty. I had an impression that I was middle-lower grade. We were doing something with planets and their orbits. Changing positions. De-conflicting paths and influences. The papers explained how to do these things. After a hesitant start, I picked up the idea and easily did my part, watching through large windows as I changed the paths and directions of gassy giants and small stones. An upper-level man came by and complimented me on my work. Told me, “You obviously have it. Go help some of the others. Some of them don’t get it.”
So I walked about, holding my paper, helping others learn how to move the planets. This was an introduction to a larger project. Once we knew how to move the planets, shift orbits, and change rotations, we were working on a larger project of aligning the planets for the most beneficial influence. By now, I’d read several people’s paper instructions. I’d learned that all were different in the details but with the same general practices and skill sets. Although my rank hadn’t changed, I was highly regarded and now considered adept at moving planets.
It was with some surprise then, followed by trepidation, when I concluded that some of the instructions were wrong. I went off and found the head guy and told him why I thought it was wrong. He decided that what I said made sense. He wanted to gather the whole group so I could explain it to them.
I agreed. Preparations were made. I decided I didn’t like my pants, so I made new ones, cutting them from cloth that I found, and then sewing them. The results were stunning. Form-fitting. Crisp creases. Neat darts and pleats. Perfect length. Cuffed. I was impressed by how my appearance improved by the change of pants.
The head guy and others came by to tell me they were ready. I had my pants on. My pants were different from everyone else’s. They stopped me and gathered around, asking, “Where did you get those pants? They’re perfect.”
“I made them,” I answered.
They were astonished. Wanted to know more. Felt the material. Had me turn so my pants could be admired from all angles. The rest of the people came in as this happened. They applauded my pants. The attention embarrassed me. With my new pants on, I was ready to explain to everyone where our plans to align the planets was amiss. I stood up to address them against a backdrop of stars and planets through tall, broad curved windows.
Dream end.
Good advice to follow. I always think the book should be perfect after the first draft. Yes, I’m a fool.
Floofspiracy (floofinition) – Coordination among animals in a secret agreement to do an unlawful or forbidden act.
In use: “The cat and dog were guilty of multiple floofspiracies. Added by the bird (on lookout), the cat would pull the door ajar. The dog stuck his nose in and thrust it fully open. Dog and cat then dragged out the bags of the treats and the bird came down to feed them.”
Wonderful fall day here today. Harvest moon last night. Clear sky to view it. Enjoying it all.
The weather systems have delivered gusting winds, clear skies, and a sweet balminess to Tuesday’s air. Today is September 21, 2021. We have reached autumn. Survived the year, mostly thanks to many others. Service people, yes, but I also owe some thanks to politicians, newspaper writers, novelists, librarians, farmers, police officers, firefighters, doctors, nurses, teachers, family, friends, beer brewers, bakers, chefs, truck drivers, pilots, transportation specialists, television engineers, producers, and personalities. It’s a long list of those keeping us safe and fed, managing our water, delivering things, and distracting, entertaining, and educating.
Today’s sunrise was at 6:57 AM in the valley. Sunset will come at 7:10 PM. Air quality is a delightful 4. Our high temperature today will be in the mid to upper eighties. Think 87 F. Current temperature is 73.
After another bevy of bodacious dreams, I find a 1978 Al Stewart song called “Time Passages” populating the morning mental music stream. These lyrics (with accompanying instruments) were on loop:
I felt the beat of my mind go
Drifting into time passages
Years go falling in the fading light
Time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight
h/t to Songfacts.com
Can you go home again? I’ve gone ‘home’ to why Mom and Dad each separately live with their new partners, so I’m thinking, no. Not physically. In many ways, going home is a brief spiritual journey of nostalgia about what was when. In that sense, yes, going home is often a mind trip away. Going home to either of those places — where Dad/Mom live — highlights the changes between now and back then. Mom and Dad left each other and then I left them and roamed the world. Didn’t see enough, to be sure, but I came to grasp that home is a state of mind.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music, a mellow folk rock offering for a mellow day. Enjoy. Cheers
Anyone need a dream? I had a surfeit of them last night. Convoluted and crazy. Too many to sit and remember, write, and analyze them. It would have taken hours that I don’t have. I instead stayed with one making the largest impression.
I can’t say where I was. Couldn’t make sense of it. In one part I was driving in a car with my wife. Darkness fell suddenly. The headlights didn’t go on as expected. It wasn’t a familiar car. Brown or tan sedan reminiscent of the old Chrysler K cars of the early 1980s, Lee Iacocca’s brain child. I started scrambling to find the headlight controls while verbalizing this to my spouse. Meanwhile, the ride changed from smooth to rough and bouncy. I immediately exclaimed, “We’re off the road. We need to find the road.” Seeing a clear space that could be it, thinking I’d simply veered off, I jerked the wheel left toward the opening.
We went over a hill through heavier bush and woods. Not the road! But, weirdly, POV changed; I could see the car from outside ourselves and the car, and saw that we were heading for an abandoned, weeded asphalt parking lot at the bottom of the hill. While it wasn’t where we wanted to go, it was good enough for now because I could also see that it was separated from the road we wanted by a small median strip. We could get to the parking lot, cross the strip, then drive to our destination, which I could also see in the gloomy dusk.
Now we’re in a room of some sort where we’re to wait. Narrow beds with disheveled blankets and sheets. Mine had cats burrowing through the covers as they played. A woman coming by said, “Yes, some of them have cats. Many don’t.” Okay. I asked her what to expect. She replied, “Find the script, read it, and wait.”
What? I found dog-eared and torn papers stapled together. I began reading, not sure what to expect nor why I was doing it, and thinking, that’s how life is. Meanwhile, the cats were feisty. I thought they hungry. I went about finding food for them. I found food but then couldn’t find the cats. That raised concerns about them.
Then — not sure why — I decided to fashion a mask for myself out of paper towels. I pinched out two holes for eyes and held them over my face. The white paper towels were raggedly torn. I began searching for some way to fasten them around my head but then I saw one of the cats go through.
Then, they demanded I read. Who? Why, it was the director. They’re auditioning people, trying to fill roles. Pick up one of the scripts and read. I did while holding the mask up around my face. The director loved it. Don’t practice; don’t change. Just walk forward, pick up scripts, and read them when you’re told. WTH. I was confused but decided I’d go along with it. I discovered two young actors had been cast as Romeo and Juliet. I was reading other parts. Then they would do their roles. Oh. I tossed the mask aside, feeling that it was a hindrance. A woman rushed up and told me, “No, no, the director liked that raw touch. He thought it was unusual and different and wants you to keep holding the mask as you read.”
So I went forward, holding up my mask, reading scripts when, seeing cats, and trying to feed them.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 