Luminal Floof

Luminal Floof (floofinition) – An animal at the threshold of change of life or situation, especially those who have endured and are starting anew under fresh circumstances.

In use: “The luminal floof, nominally a five-year-old cat appeared older, aged by years on the street, enduring winters, dodging traffic, and begging for food, still awaited a name at its new home, but took advantage of the quiet and secure warmth to stretch, yawn, and sleep.”

Saturday’s Theme Music

We interrupt this morning with a special news bulletin. Today is Saturday, October 23, 2021. Sunrise was at 7:33 AM and sunset will be at 6:17 PM. It’s windy and rainy, 50 degrees F, with an expected high of 60 and a low of 42. Clouds splashy with gray and white sprawl across the sky. Every few minutes, sunshine and blue sky bolt through the clouds. Their escape is short as the clouds gang up to shut them down again. From appearances, I’d guess this struggle will be going on for a few hours.

Today’s morning mental music stream inhabitant is “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill from 1993. I haven’t heard this song for at least twenty years. Probably more. But it was featured in a television show I streamed. Hearing it, I remembered how much I enjoyed it. It’s a straightforward, rambunctious punk sound, hard on a steady beat, thick with a driving guitar sound, sustained by heavy bass. Always inspires my head to start moving with it. And it’s a great sing-along chorus.

Sorry for the interruption. We’ll now continue with the morning and I’ll return to my coffee. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and booster when you can. Cheers

A Ragtag Dream

I was staying in a disheveled sort of place, a ramshackle series of hotels connected to a large, decrepit aircraft hangar. The hangar was white; the hotels were pale green and light pink. A number of friends and my wife were there. We seemed like refugees trying to pull it together and move on.

Activities were taking place in all of the hangar. One person with us was S, a short, energetic woman who’d been an office manager where I’d worked. S and I met up by an aircraft in the hangar. The jet was something like a 737. We planned to take it to leave. But before we could board, S said, “We need to have all the rivets sealed.” She had a rag and some stuff. Showing them to me, she went on, “A little of this needs to be rubbed on each one.”

Looking up at the aircraft, I answered, “We would need to start at the top and work our way down, section by section.”

S said, “It needs to be done in about an hour. Can you organize people and get this done?”

I replied, “Sure, okay.”

She thanked me. We parted.

After we walked away, I thought, we don’t need to do that. That’s overkill. I’ll talk to S about that.

I kept going. I saw some other friends just arriving. They had some clothes. I recognized the clothes as some stuff I’d left behind. They were returning them to me.

But we didn’t meet up. I needed to get back to my room to get my wife ready to go. As I wend through people across the hangar to my hotel section, I saw another pile of my clothes on the cement floor and scooped them up to wear, then went to the room.

My wife was still in bed. I roused her. Our room was small and cramped, with a bed and a tiny bathroom. She was confused about what was to happen. I went about, explaining it to her while packing. She climbed out of bed; she was wearing gray pajamas. As she started moving and looking for clothes, she went into the bathroom. In there, I saw a huge cobweb with a dead mosquito eater hanging in it. I pointed it out to her, saying, “That’s been here the whole time that we’ve been here.”

She agreed, then as she moved around it, we saw other, larger ones.

We exited the bathroom. She said, “I need to think.” She took out four small gray rectangles from a bag, then set them on the floor, spacing them about four feet from one another. I didn’t know what she was doing.

Bending to the first one, she pressed a button on it. Music began playing. She repeated this with the next two. I recognized the music with each. She began dancing and singing to the music coming from the third. It was an old pop song by Abba, “Dancing Queen”. Then she moved to the fourth and pressed its button. She stopped dancing and singing, listening. I realized that it was playing “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen and sang along with it. She seemed unable to hear the music and stood listening.

Dream end.

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