Saturday’s Theme Music

It’s green-bag day, so today’s first business was putting that outside. Tucker the magnificent was talking about how underfed, hungry, and neglected he is, and so had to be fed. Of course, as soon as food was mentioned, Papi said, “Hey, what about me?”

All in all, this Saturday, April 9, 2022, has started like many other days, if you ignore the green bag. Sunrise illuminated a blue spring sky at 6:42 AM. An overnight low of 39 degrees F had the heater run for a little time. We don’t expect much for a high, 52 F but we’ll accept it. Never did see any rain in my area today. Clouds are anticipated later today here but no rain.

Before dream processing, “Severed” by The Decemberists was orbiting the morning mental music stream. Somehow, the mind plates shifted, and the neurons began instead playing “I Alone” by Live from 1994. So that’s the theme music. Reflecting on the song, I remembered and confirmed that it was about learning spirituality on your own, that it’s something that can’t be given to you.

I took a day off from the news yesterday after reading initial reports of the rocket attack on a train station in Ukraine. I was also trying to focus on writing/re-writing, and pushing some energy that way. A friend read the alpha version of The Constant and had excellent feedback. I was immediately stimulated to start working scenes.

Well, I say a day from the news, but habits rode in and I was back at reading the news by the mid-afternoon. There, headlines from around the U.S. blared about more gun deaths. A two-year-old shot and killed his four-year-old sister in a car at a gas station. Six dead in Sacramento. Three dead in Florida. More dead somewhere else. But please, let’s talk about protecting children from hearing about gender. The idiocy makes me scream.

Stay positive and test negative, my friends, wear a mask as needed to protect you and your pods, and get the jabs to do the same. I have my coffee; here is the song. Cheers

The Sandwich Shop Dream

A phone was ringing. It was a late hour, but I thought it was Dad calling. I couldn’t get to the phone. I had my backpack on with my laptop and was heading for work.

I was in an airport, walking with others, none recognized from RL. We were gathered into a white side room to pick up our paychecks. They hadn’t been delivered on time to the regular place, and this was where we’d been sent to get them. We milled through with many others, then realized there were lines. People working with us weren’t in a line, so we formed one. We met with a rep, a tanned white male with a tired face. He was a friend of sorts but also upper management. He told us our paychecks were coming, that there’d been some issue, yada, yada, and the checks would be here later today.

‘Later today’ came. We returned to the room. Far fewer people were present. In fact, it was really only my group. The management friend never showed up. Neither did our checks. Disappointed, we left.

I got in line to have a sandwich made at a Subway shop. I’d been there many times before and the staff and I knew one another. The lines were long and so was the wait. When it was finally my turn, I ordered a sub sandwich only to be told that it was after five o’clock.

I looked at the clock; they were right, it was now a few minutes after five. I protested, because I’d been in line before five, and appealed to their sense of right. I appealed the time, too, arguing that it was just a few minutes after five, what difference could a few minutes make? And, I was a regular.

They would not make me a sandwich but offered me something else for free. I thought I’d get something for my wife, so, mollified, I started ordering. After a few minutes, the guy behind the counter said, “That’s just another sandwich.”

I realized that he was right. I started apologizing and held up a large quantity of paper money. I said, “I can pay for it.”

The counterman took all the sandwich ingredients and wordlessly slid them onto the floor in front of me. He then took all the money from my hand and drop it on top of the food on the floor. I protested again, “I forgot, I didn’t realize.” Then, seeing the futility of that effort, I picked up my money and rushed off into the airport to catch my flight. As I went, I kept telling myself, “I really forgot. I really did.”

Dream end

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