Hi, Friheads. It’s 31 degrees F on this sunny Friday morning. Today’s date is December 10, 2021. The high will be 36 F. The burst of gold we call sunrise struck at 7:28 AM and the sun parade will cease at 4:39 this afternoon.
We’re calling it sunny but a flotilla of long, sketchy clouds are cruising the altitudes, pulling a foggy net behind them. Then the sun fires beams at the fog and zips it away. Looks like the weather might be variable today.
I don’t know why, but REO Speedwagon’s 1980 song, “Keep On Loving You”, inhabits the morning mental music stream. Bit mellow for this Friday AM. I was thinking that I needed something with a hard beat to stir my feet. I reflected on the lyrics for a while, looking for a connection. It came out just before our move to Okinawa on military assignment. I listened to the song quite a bit on the rock but I can’t connect dots between now and then. Something with the dreams? Can’t address that. Only remember two and half dreams from last night. Nothing in them relates to the song. Cats? Doesn’t seem to be. They’ve headed outside, into the sunshine, despite the cold air temp. Wife? Perhaps something on the subconscious level is there. Or maybe it’s a response to life. Feeling a little down and weary this AM. It’s a monthly thing, where the effort and tedium just sucks the joy out down to the dregs. Life dregs are like coffee dregs: cold, black, and bitter.
Well, stay positive! (Ha, ha.) Test negative, wear a mask as needed — have you been following the Omicron developments? — and get the jabs when you can. Reading this morning that Omicron might cause the pandemic of the vaxxed, and they’re suggesting that everyone needs a boost. Got boost? I do. Hope you do as well.
Here’s my coffee. Oh, sorry, you’re looking for the music. Here’s the music. Have a better one. Cheers
First, one dream ended. All I remember of it was that Glenn Greenwald was mentioned. Then I discussed someone’s book. No details from that remain with me. In the end, I was trying to explain what I meant but couldn’t think of a specific word. I tried writing it on a white board and wrote in lower case letters in red, ‘threat’. Standing back, I said, “That’s not what I meant to write.”
But a new dreamisode began. I was studying with others. We were a small class, five, learning in an old farmhouse. The other students and I were talking and joking when we were supposed to be studying. I picked up the book to try again. The subject was macroeconomics and my interest in learning it was low.
The teacher, a young, short white man with a black beard, entered and asked if we were ready for our exam. Other students who were younger than us approached our farmhouse. My class watched them out the window. We discovered they’d taken the same course and had already finished the exam. Not only that, but they were ahead of us on lessons.
My classmates and I were dismayed. We were expected to read several chapters, amounting to hundreds of pages, in a few days and then pass an exam on it? I laughed. “I need more time,” I said to the instructor.
“How much time?” he asked.
I laughed again. “A few years.”