The Writing Class Dream
Couldn’t tell what my age was in this, as I never ‘saw’ me. Most of the dream was presented in compacted segments, which gave background info. I was in a packed writing class. I’d gone from being cold and aloof with my classmates to being cheerier and friendlier. We were toward the course’s end. I was panicking because a big assignment was due. The theme was, what’s it like to be a writer? I hadn’t started mine. In fact, I lacked a plan. Meanwhile, other students had developed theirs, and presentations were underway. Another writer, who hadn’t impressed me in the class to date, gave his presentation. Wow, the imagination and cleverness in the multimedia concept he employed blew me away. A few other students presented, and they were okay, serviceable but not special. The teacher — a teacher I took creative writing classes with in Germany thirty plus years ago — gave her energetic presentation. I didn’t quit grasp her point as she used a rake, shovel, and broom, dashing around. I thought about doing a silent presentation, walking around, observing others, staring at the sky, scribbling notes, pecking on a keyboard, but that seemed so basic and trite. I kept coming up and rejecting ideas. Meanwhile, other students crowded closer to me. One female sitting to my right said to me, “I’m really looking forward to your presentation. You’re so talented.”
I laughed. “Thanks, but don’t expected too much. I still don’t know what I’m going to do.”
She answered, “Oh, I’m not worried. You’ll come up with something. You always do.”
While her belief injected some hope, I still miserably searched for an idea as another student gave their presentation, walking around looking at things and writing in a notepad. I felt sick.
Dream end.
Monday’s Theme Music
Clickity clack, Monday is back. Forty-two degrees F on this Jun 13, 2022 day. Looks like a typical and beautiful southern Oregon June day. Well, except for the heavy cloud cover and lack of sunshine. That lends it a Octoberish appearance, but with green leaves and flowers. Sunrise and sunset were at the proper times for June in Ashland, 5:33 and 8:47, AM and PM, respectively. Today’s high will be a mild 62 F.
The cats encouraged the neurons to sing “Minute by Minute”. Do you know the song? Written by Michael McDonald and Lester Abrahms, the Doobie Brothers released the song in 1979 (had to look that up) and showed some moderate chart success. The neurons liked it for the cats because there’s lyrics in there which proclaim, “I’ll keep holding on.” That’s what Tucker was doing after I picked him up for some personal time. His claws found their way into my sweatshirt, and he kept on holding on. The neurons so delighted in this, they began playing the song. It continues to reside in the morning mental music stream.
The coffee has arrived. Stay positive, test negative, and be aware, responsive and responsible. Here’s the tune. Cheers
The Divorce & Money Dream
My wife and I divorced. We then went on a vacation together, where we stayed in a mid-range luxury condo. Her sisters were there, in adjoining places, along with their children. We were all younger than in RL by thirty years or so. My wife – B – and I had dinner and then attended a presentation on the environment and climate change in a huge, packed auditorium lit with golden chandeliers. The speaker was a good-looking man with a gold tan who had bestselling books on the subjects. My wife met him after the presentation. They fell in love and married.
I went back to my condo. My wife came to visit. We could see into her new husband’s place, as it was next door. Large and modern, it featured realms of glass. Golden lights lit it inside. B told me that the home was enormous, taking up two entire floors of the luxury townhomes next door, and that her new husband was dying. He passed the next day, leaving everything to B. She announced that as part of that, she was receiving over $13,000 a month in royalties.
I was happy for her but startled by that amount. We’d been there for almost a week and I needed to leave soon. I didn’t have reservations to fly out but had a day and a half left before I needed to get back so I decided not to make reservations yet. I was very busy at that point. The condo had become a little cluttered with piles of coins. My nieces and nephews began collecting them and taking them to my sisters-in-law and wife, who kneeled on the carpet divided the piles of coins among themselves. This didn’t worry or bother me because I’d discovered large caches of cash which belonged to me. I was happy for them to take the coins, but every time I turned around, I discovered another pile of coins.
Then, oh no, I was late for leaving and I hadn’t made a reservation! I chastised myself, thinking if I had made reservations, I wouldn’t be late because I would have had more structure. I succeed more with structure.
A man came by and informed me that I needed to leave, and that if I didn’t I would be fined. I laughed at the threat and noted that I had cash on hand and my ex was receiving $13,000 a month in royalties. The man left. I told the rest of my party that I needed to leave and would be departing shortly. My ex-wife said something back about the need to take care of her new inheritance. She was to go into her ‘new place’ to inventory its contents. I asked her about the hold up, and she said, “There’s a lot of places,” and held up keys. One key ring with keys were hanging on another key ring of keys. “He has places all over town. And you should see the cars.”
Dream end
Sunday’s Theme Music
My wife declared, “I love this weather.” It’s a cool Sunday. June 12, 2022. Clinging mists obscure the downslopes of pine and hardwood trees. The temperature dropped fast last night. It’s back up to 63 F but with clouds and rain dominating, that’s the day’s high. And it’s peculiar, as I was out last night with the cat, admiring the bright moon. “Pretty nice, isn’t it?” I said to him. “Not quite a full moon. I like the air’s smell. It’s so fresh.”
“That’s a waxing gibbous.” The cat yawned and stretched. “About ninety to ninety-five percent, I’d say. Rain’s coming.”
I checked, and he was right about the moon. Clouds stormed in, delivering a snare-drum rain performance before sunrise at 5:34 AM. Sunset: 8:47 PM.
Songs about flying fill the morning mental music stream. Don’t know what the neurons are thinking with that; did I have a flying dream that I don’t remember? Or are they gaslighting me?
But looking out the window reminded me of Germany. We lived there in the eighties while stationed at Rhein Main AB. Clouds and rain were frequently experienced in that region. The neurons eventually began singing “Jammin’ Me” by Tom Petty (1987). They didn’t give a reason although it might be that friends and I were discussing this song because we’d gone to see The Grateful Dead. Conversation had turned to Bob Dylan, and one person mentioned that Bob Dylan wrote this song with Tom Petty and Mike Campbell. Could be. The reflective trip down the memory highway ended with the usual refrain, wonder where those guys are now?
Apologies to Rudyard
If you can talk sensibly to others and remain calm and polite
If you can discern the truth and think critically about what you see, hear, learn, and read
If you can respect others’ rights and freedoms as equal to your own
Then, my friend, you might be a pretty good human being.
Some Fries With Your Stupid, Hair Füror?
Yeah, this has to be shared far and wide: Trump’s full hypocrisy and the lack of truth in his actions.
What a dope:
It’s all in the branding:
The irony is rich: Truth Social, Donald Trump’s Twitter copycat claiming it is “free from political discrimination,” has reportedly banned users who posted information from Thursday’s congressional hearing on the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol — in which the former president is a key player.
That’s according to several posts on Twitter by users who claimed Truth Social was censoring them. Reps for Trump Media & Technology Group, which owns and operates Truth Social, did not respond to a request for comment.
Michael Seidel, writer 