A Mom Dream

I was visiting Mom’s place. She was younger than RL, more aligned with the mom known throughout most of my adulthood.

I was younger, but my sisters were their current agents. Their children were present, too, contemporary as adults to me.

Visiting Mom’s place was a process of exploring because she’d moved. On the bottom floor, décor in shades of gray, black, and white dominated. The building was long and wide. I went outside to check out her backyard. I discovered trimmed trees organized in rows. I wondered if they were fruit trees and looked for evidence of that but found nothing conclusive. While I was looking, I inadvertently broke off one branch. Embarrassed, I didn’t want to be caught and looked around for somewhere to hide the branch. Looking up, I saw Mom watching me and smiling from a window above.

I went back in. As I walked through this floor, I realized it wasn’t a house but an apartment building, and I was in the lobby. My sisters and her children arrived, and then their children’s friends. We started having drinks. Many of the children were talking about the Lockheed C5 Galaxy, a huge transport plane. A dream news story said only two or three remained. Some foreign government was quoted as saying that they wanted the aircraft but the U.S. wouldn’t give them up. Some of the children suggested that if they were the other government, they would steal them. I went into a pedantic explanation about security and how that would be difficult because C5s were labeled ‘Priority A’. I suggested that if the C5s were stolen, the U.S. would probably shoot them down so that others couldn’t have them.

We went outside, to the building’s front after this conversation, where the party expanded, becoming louder, concerning me about disturbing the building’s residents. People proposed going to other places. I said that I would need to change.

Then Mom called down to me on the intercom. I answered it. She was asking me if I could go get something for her, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying because her voice was very weak through the intercom. Others came over to help interpret what Mom asked for. I thought she was saying that she wanted some pills like the ones I’d gotten for her before, and that they were available at a store or locker in the building’s rear, but I couldn’t fully comprehend what she meant.

That’s where the dream ended.  

Monday’s Wandering Thought

When he did chores at home, he always challenged himself with time limits. Vacuum the floors or wax the furniture by such and such time. What will you give me if I do, his neurons always answered, as he rushed about, intent on his artificial goals.

Other people would probably find it silly, maybe childish, making these fake goals, but these small goals helped prop up the day’s structure and keep time from getting away from him. It worked for him, so what did he care what they cared?

It’s not like anyone knew.

Monday’s Theme Music

Monday scurried in under a rain cloud shouting, “I’m not late. I’m not late. I’m here. Maybe a little late. Not my fault. All that rain, and there’s snow, too. People are driving crazy. Traffic is a mess.”

Yes, it’s Monday, November 7, 2022. Winter has flexed again. Mists, ice, and snow layer our uppers. Snow hasn’t found its way down into the valley’s lower elevations, but we are surrounded. 6:51 AM is when the sun joined the mix, lightening the black and gray tones embedded in the ocean of thickening clouds above us.

34 F is now the temperature. No fear; it’ll bounce up to 7 C before daylight flees at 4:57 PM, the weather they say.

The Neurons are again floof-influenced with the morning mental music stream selection. (Say that three times fast before you had some coffee.) Weather drove Papi and Tucker in. They follow me around asking for sunshine. “I can’t do anything about the weather, boys.” I don’t explain that only nature and powerful Gods can control weather, as that would shatter their belief system. They think that I can do almost anything. I mean, they practically worship me.

Anyway, the cats were following me about, even after I fed them. To amuse the three of us, I run into the other room. They followed, confirming that they were going to stay right by my side.

Which, boom, caused The Neurons to say, “Hey, that’s just like that Metallica song.” Naturally, I responded, “What Metallica song?” The Neurons then commenced with “Until It Sleeps” from 1996.

“Have some coffee,” The Neurons tell me.

“Okay,” I answer, “is it ready?”

They scoff. “Did you make it?”

So, gotta go get some juice going. Stay positive, test negative. Mask as needed, if it’ll help stay some of the reach of those circling viruses. Here’s the music. I’m getting the coffee going, and then I’ll drink it until I sleep.


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