The Real Life Dream

I dreamed I was with people who were preparing to monitor the results of an important experiment. We were high in a tall building. Part of it seemed to be lab but also living accommodations. I wasn’t part of the group and was envious, but hanging on the fringe, I’d become friends with several and a de facto insider. One young man who was part of the group had become a sort of mentor, explaining what was happening for me. He kept telling me, “You need to watch The Real Life. It’s the best documentary ever made, and it’ll explain all of this enough so that you’ll understand what’s going on.” He said this multiple times, in several different ways, and ordered me to repeat the title, “The Real Life”.

When I awoke and remembered the dream, I searched the net for such a documentary. Didn’t find it.

Floof Bush

Floof Bush (floofinition) – A plant where an animal likes to sleep or sit. Note: not to be confused with floofbush.

In use: “The middle poplar (of three) was the backyard floof bush, a space on a little hillock where the yard could be surveyed, sunshine swept in past leaves, and breezes kept whatever creature residing there from getting too hot.”

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Rain is falling and the mountains peek coyly through the fog. The wheel has spun, landing on…click click click…Tuesday, January 4, 2022. Now you might think, of course, what day did you expect? But then you’re assuming that everything is just as you believe when actually — oh, never mind. Sunrise was a weak tea moment at 7:40 AM. We expect sunset at 4:52 PM. It’s currently 39 F but we expect to see 43 today.

The rain and warmer temperatures have chased the snow away from many areas. Down in town’s lower levels, there’s no evidence a snowstorm had struck. Up around my house and above my elevation (1800 feet), there’s still plenty of snow. The storm has moved on across the country, dumping its load, stalling traffic, canceling flights, pretty and vicious, as nature can be.

I have “Jessica” by the Allman Brothers Band from 1973 weaving its notes in the morning mental music stream. The Allman Brothers were a youthful favorite and I’ve never tired of them. Wore the needle and grooves out on some vinyl, broke a cassette tape, and found it on CD. The net lets me easily enjoy their music, along with all those other terrific, talented people that find and make music. Technology can be quite a cool thing.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax and boosters. Now I’m gonna sit back, sip coffee, and enjoy the song. This coffee is a potent dark brew, French roast. Its kick would make a shambler zombie fast. Which is just about what I need this AM.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

A Facilitating Dream

The commander, a colonel, was walking in, talking on his cell as he came. I knew he was speaking with his wife. I overheard him: “Seidel? Yes, he’s here. He’s always here. He’s everywhere.”

A blush of pride bloomed in me in the dream. That was toward the end. It’d been another military dream, a chaotic one. Whereas most of my military dreams after my service ended has been about my chosen career field, command and control, or about traveling, this one was about facilitating. I’d spent the last three years of my career facilitating special project teams. This dream took off from there.

People were arriving for the session. I knew them and was prepared for them — or so I thought. Things started going wrong. Like Mom showed up. What was Mom doing there? I saw her but then she wasn’t there, so maybe I’d imagined her.

It threw me off my game. A squadon commander, black and and light colonel, arrived. I was pleased to see him, greeting him by name, showing him in, asking him if he’d like something to drink. Coffee, water, juice, tea? “Tea,” he agreed. Excellent, we have multiple kinds. What would you like? He selected (can’t remember what it was) and I went off to get it.

But I couldn’t immediately find the tea. Interruptions hampered the search. Sisters are arrived. I didn’t know what they were doing there. The phone kept ringing. Other team members were arriving. Someone knocked over one of the white boards. And the cookies weren’t put out.

I was scrambling, racing back to the light colonel to tell him that I’d not forgotten his tea, that it would be right out. He was taking it well, smiling and nodding, relatively unconcerned. I was also trying to be a good host with other arrivals and trying to corner one of my sisters to inquire about why she was there.

Someone suggested we play a game. They found something sort of roundish and suggested volleyball. Cheers met the suggestion. Although I first resisted because I had an agenda, I acquiesced. Be flexible, right? “Okay, why not,” I agreed.

We went out. There were five on one side and one, a female, on the other. They were going to play volleyball but there wasn’t a net. The lumpy thing being used as a volleyball turned into an actual volleyball. I told the one woman that I’d be her teammate. We’d take on the rest. Some volleying was done. I was told to serve. Everyone tensed because they thought I’d have a power serve but I kept missing the ball completely.

I finally served the ball and a volley ensued, then we lost the ball. Someone came up with some misshaped black thing, smaller than a volleyball, to use. I argued against it, demonstrating that I couldn’t even hit it right. Nobody else had yet tried. They all encouraged me to keep trying. I did, and suddenly began hitting it spectacularly well.

Others arrived so we quit playing. I hurried back to facilitate because some were up asking about the talking points posted to a white board. I rushed to explain. That’s when the commander arrived talking on the phone, and the dream ended.

Monday’s Theme Music

40 degrees F. Rainy and foggy. Snow still clings to the Earth. The sun is AWOL behind a gray cloud curtain. We’re on our way to a 47 degree high.

Good morning. Welcome to Monday, January 3, 2021.

Windstorm last night. Sounded like highspeed trains encircling us. One wind slapped the house side like Thor’s hammer. No apparent damages, though.

Sunrise: 7:40 AM. Sunset: 4:51 PM.

“Higher” by Creed (1999) is the morning mental music stream’s resident song. Ruminating about the night’s rations of dreams invited the song in. The song is about dreams, although I sometimes feels like a religious paean: “Can you take me higher? To a place where blind men see. Can you take me higher? To a place with golden streets.” It could be drugs, too, couldn’t it? But I thought I’d adopt it for this new year’s first Monday: can you take me higher? Keep climbing, you know?

Stay positive, test negative, wear masks and drink coffee as needed, and get the jabs. I’m off for my coffee now. You just sit and listen to the tune. Cheers

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