The Guests Dream

My wife and I lived in a small place in this dream. It was outside and had no walls or roof. Nor, I later learned, did it have a private bathroom.

As said, it was small, tiny, really. It was all about the kitchen, dining room, and living room — without walls, which I didn’t think odd at all. Guests arrived, including cousins. Among them was one a few years younger than me who passed away in 2002 from a heart attack. He was there and in good health and I was pleased to see him. I realized that the guests meant that I needed more kitchen space. Of critical concern was that I make a place for them to make coffee and sit and enjoy the coffee — and BTW, Christmas was on the way, according to my guests. Some began putting up colored electric lights and other decorations.

I set up what I thought would suit the guests, a small, squared off space with an elaborate coffee maker on the left, and a sitting area on the right. My deceased cousin complained about it IAW his nature. I deflected his complaints with good nature. His mother arrived and made observations and suggestions. As I began explanations about the arrangements and my logic, I cut myself off. “Wait. You’re right! That would be better.” I commenced making the change.

Finishing, I stepped away from our square, wall-free, roofless, ‘home’. Around us was a park with swing sets, seesaws, and slides in use by screaming, laughing, chattering children. After surveying them, I turned and spotted two huge bears lumbering by. Worrying about the children, I turned to warn them. They’d spotted the bears. Quieting, they’d climbed bleachers and were waiting for the bears to leave. The bears left without incident.

I went to use the restroom. In dreamstyle, I turned and stepped and was upstairs in a white building. This, I knew, was a stick and wood building three stories tall. I was on the third floor in a hall. A square antechamber was on my right. I faced white doors spread out in the hall and antechamber in an odd and haphazard fashion. Black numbers labeled the doors one to five. The bathrooms, I realized. As I went to select number five, I realized there was a sixth and shifted toward it. As I did, a young woman in loose black shirt and pants accosted me, explaining that the rooms were shared and she was scheduled to use one of them to give a massage and a bath to a client. She said, “You need to reserve the room for your use.” As she talked, she crossed to a wall and took a clipboard with a yellow shirt of paper on it. “We use this to reserve the rooms. I suggest you use it as well.”

I countered with another suggestion, which were cards by the doors, which indicated if they were in use or available.

Dream end.

Saturday’s Theme Music

July 23 of 2022 turned out to be a Saturday. Sunrise took place while I still prowled dreamland at 5:55 AM. More likely to witness sunset at 8:39 PM. July is preparing to conduct a peaceful transfer of power to August.

Sunshine rules again, giving us some hot air. 90 F will be our high while it’s a pleasant and comfortable 19 C at the moment. Lovely to stand out in the sun with hot coffee, watching the feline masters grooming as cool hair bathes me.

World news scans gave a bleak assessment of life in 2022. Disasters, death, and killing fill the stories. Guess those are a significant part of life. I wanted something lighter in my mind. The damn Neurons didn’t comply. I just reading a novel called Fools and Mortals about William and Richard Shakespeare and the plays Romeo and Juliet and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The primary story focused on Richard Shakespeare, a player in Shakespeare’s company, his love life and poverty, his relationship with his brother, stolen manuscripts, and politics. Perhaps the novel’s story still circulated around the neural pathways as The Neurons filled the morning mental music stream with “(Don’t Fear) The Reaper” from 1976 by Blue Oyster Cult. The song has lyrics which go, “Romeo and Juliet are together for eternity.” The way my neurons go about business, of course the song would need to be brought up after reading a book mentioning them, of course! It’s as natural an order as sunrise and sunset, a thought which cues The Neurons to begin “Sunrise, Sunset” from Fiddler on the Roof.

Let’s get out of here. Stay positive and test negative, masking as needed, etc. I’ve already procured and consumed some coffee, so here’s the music. Enjoy.

More cowbell. Peace out.

Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: