Yep. Believe in change – positive change. Someone once said, “Yes, we can.”
We can send people to the moon
Yet people starve through lack of food,
People explore into space
Yet they are denied a living place,
Hungry, homeless people struggle
In societies that just don’t care,
And if we voice this truth, as if we dare,
For others to oppose
They’ll blame these down and out people
Because it’s easier I suppose,
To look at ourselves to see if we could do more
Meanwhile our governments plough millions into wars,
And many fat cats who are greedy
Cause hunger, homelessness and misery,
Treat all life like it’s all commodities
And people are simply assets to use or throw to throw away,
Like it’s some kind of game and they have no shame,
But it doesn’t have to be this way, it can change.
Dreamland has been a busy place for me, but life has been busy, keeping my deeper ruminations about my dreams to minimal levels. Last night’s dream about being a refugee had a sharper feel to it, though.
I was a prisoner along with many others and had been for some time. The dream really began at the end of that incarceration, when we finally found a way past the gates and walls keeping us in captivity. After we came out, blinking because we were seeing the sun for the first time in weeks, we were told by someone anonymous that we were free, and that ‘our side’ had won.
We’d been falsely imprisoned, though, and wanted justice for that. The people who were responsible were eight men. We wanted them found and brought to trial. I was given the task of drawing wanted posters for them.
I protested, I don’t even know how they look. Well, it needed to be done, and I needed to do it, because I was the one who could, I was told.
I found paper, charcoal, and pencils, and began doing sketches, working off other people’s descriptions of the eight. Someone told me about an office where a cache of information was. Going there and rooting around, I found that someone else had already created rudimentary sketches of the eight. I began improving these, shaping and sharpening features, adding details. It all came sharper into mind as I worked.
The people in charge came by to see how I was progressing and were impressed by my work. Looking out, we then saw a bearded man walking past who resembled the number one wanted person on my poster. As word spread that it was him, I held up my poster and looked at him in profile, amazed at how well I’d captured his image.
Typical Tuesday for late April. Sun and clouds are pugilistic about who will rule the sky. The clouds were here first, they said, pointing out that the sun didn’t get there until 6:14 AM. “That’s the point,” the sun replied. “I’m only going to be here until 8:04 today while you clouds are coming and going as you please. Shouldn’t I have the sky while I’m here.” They were still arguing when the seasons came in and started putting in their points.
It’s April 26, 2022. Just five more shopping days until May 1!
I have the song “Mother” by Danzig (1988) circling the morning mental music stream. I was watching the new season of “Russian Doll” on Netflix, and they used the song. Well, the neurons reacted by saying, “I haven’t heard this in so long,” and latching onto it like a kitten taking a nipple. So here I am.
The song was a protest to labeling music for content and made a big splash when it arrived. As many noted, the labels warning children that there was sex and violence, or drugs mentioned in the song, prompted more interest in the music. As many told me later, “I didn’t even know “She Bop” by Cyndi Lauper was about masturbation.” All of that was part of a larger anti-pornography movement. Now, of course, we have the web, which casts a whole different kind of shadow over the world.
Stay positive, test negative, follow the CDC advice, etc. Here’s the music. A cup of coffee is summoning me to the other room. Cheers