Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
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.
Right-handed, when he put his socks and shoes on, he always did the left foot first. He wondered, has this ever been studied? Was a correlation between dominant hands and which foot you did first? A natural relationship was suggested but has it been studied? Did it need to be studied?
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.
Psychosweet (floofinition) – Floof expression for an animal who is alternatively very sweet, relaxed, and friendly, and then outrageously crazy, aggressive, and energetic.
In use: “Thomas and his family fostered three kittens — Wendy, Tootles, and Mongo — and soon discovered they were psychosweets.”
Every once in a while, not enough to be predicted, his cat meowed like he was Jimmy Durante imitating a cat.
Here’s a taste of Jimmy Durante’s voice for a point of reference.
We’ve cooled some more here in southern Oregon. Hope the rest of the world can cool off. Today’s temperature finds us at 17 C now with a high of 88 F being bandied around. No clouds on my horizons now. Faint clouds were in the midnight skies. But what a night sky it otherwise was, rich with diamonds – galaxies, planets, stars, and satellites, prodding my mind to beg for details about how this all works together.
It’s Friday, July 22, 2022. Sunset and sunrise are 8:40 PM and 5:54 AM.
The Neurons are playing “You’ve Got Another Thing Coming” by Judas Priest. Are you familiar with this 1982 song? It’s a heavy metal rocker. I’m more of a progressive rock fan with my intro to heavy metal coming via a co-worker, Bob. He made me a mixed tape of heavy songs that he thought I needed to know, and here we are. This would’ve been in 1986 at a little place called Shaw AFB in South Carolina, my stop in the U.S. between Japan and Germany. In reflection, I left the U.S. in 1981, came back in 1985, left in 1986, and returned in 1991.
Stay positive and test negative, etc. Coffee has touched down in the kitchen. One small sip for mankind. Cheers
No people were visible in this dream. No bodies.
I never saw myself. I faced a wide and featureless brown plain. The sky was a striking crystal blue, like a clear sky seen opposite sunrise after the sun clears obstacles and takes the stage.
On the horizon were low brown mountains, the same color as the plain. A sense of dustiness was implied but no dust was ever seen.
Three objects equally spaced apart floated above the mountains. Outlined in jagged red, their interiors were hot white gold. Black letters scrolled within the white gold. I could see they were words but couldn’t read them.
A male guide was beside me; I never saw him. He said, “Those are your choices. You need to make a choice.”
Utter bewilderment on my side met this. “I don’t know what you mean. What are they?” Staring at them brought no elucidation. I half woke and thought of them. Drifting back into sleep, the scene returned, except I was much closer to the mountains and the three objects. They seemed larger to me. I still couldn’t read the words. The side boundaries were jagged but the top and bottom borders were smooth half-arcs. The guide mentioned choosing them. I replied, “Can’t I integrate them?” No answer.
I drifted from the dream toward consciousness, working on recalling what I’d seen and then returned to it. I was much closer. The objects were huge. Instead of being spread across the horizon, they were stacked. I said, “I think I can move them, but I don’t know what they are. I don’t know why I’d move them.”
The cat, Tucker brought me out of sleep. The dream stayed with me. Tucker did something he’d never done that I can recall. He laid down opposite me, his face facing mine, his head on a pillow. Purring, he stretched his front legs out, put his paws on my shoulder, and kneaded me. I drifted back to the dream. No changes manifested. The words kept scrolling, like the lines in a book. I still couldn’t read them.
That dream moved to my mind’s right side. The guide was with me but silent. On my mind’s left side, another dream arose. I was a young boy, sitting on the ground in a field of green weeds by a barbed wire fence. I clearly saw and knew it as me. The sun was rising to my right, and I turned and looked toward it.
I stirred myself into waking. Both dreams remained, one on the right, the other on the left, slowly receding. Both remain, faint and distant as galaxies in the sky, present on either side of my mind.
Michael Seidel, writer 