Depressing Dreams
The first found me alone, waiting for my wife. She’d been with me and then went off with her friends without saying anything. Her absence deeply aggravated me. As time passed and she didn’t appear, I began collecting papers. Don’t know what they were in RL but they were real and meaningful to me in the dream. At one point, I thought that I would kill one of her friends, blaming her for my wife’s absence. Although I wrote up plans, I knew that was wrong. I wasn’t going to kill anyone else. Maybe I should kill myself, though, the dream me thought.
My wife returned, bubbly, happy, late. Outraged stirred me. Her friend saw my notes and said, “Oh my god, he’s planning to kill me.”
I threw papers aside. “I’m not. Don’t you understand? I was on the verge of killing myself.” Sobs hit me with that declaration.
My wife was stricken. She stared in shock for several long seconds, and then she was gone again. That infuriated me but the dream ended.
I was at work as some corporate drone. I complained to my boss and co-workers that I felt useless, underemployed, and dissatisfied, and that it was draining me. My boss responded by trading me to another company. As the trade was completed, I expressed disbelief, and then was told to go to my new place of employment, which was in another city.
I went there with two other people, who already worked for my new employer. Arriving, I was given a desk and equipment. I complained, though, excuse me, what is my role? Who is my supervisor? Do I supervise anyone? I was answered, “What do you want to do? What have you done in the past?”
I tried answering, enumerating my different positions, employers, etc., which just seemed to depress me. I finished by saying, “You moved me to another city. I don’t know if I want to move. I don’t know if my wife wants to move.” Someone suggested, “Maybe we can get her a job,” and then chatted about that.
The dream ended with nothing resolved.
Monday’s Theme Music
It’s a draggin’ Monday. Speaking personally. How else can I speak. Also, it’s a metaphorical speaking, cuz I’m writing.
Monday. March 20, 2023. A series of depressing dreams left me depressed. I feel tired from it all.
The sun managed some light between clouds and rain at 7:14 this morning. Temperature is 36 F with a high of 56 F stealing in. Ashlandia’s sunset, famous around the world for its stupendous resemblance to other landlocked places surrounded by moderate mountains, will be at 7:23. Other than when people are up at one of the mountain wineries sampling a flight, folks rarely mention our sunsets, except for those times when wildfires’ nasty air rewards us with interesting colors.
It’s been raining, and it’s going to rain. As can be expected, it’ll also be mostly cloudy.
I thought I needed a little goofiness infused so I challenged The Neurons to come up with something. They gifted me “Don’t Let’s Start” by They Might Be Giants. The song was released in 1977, but ten years later, in Germany, Bob and I were discussing it at a party, pleased that we knew the song. The convo started when Bob said, “Don’t, don’t, let’s not start,” referencing work, and I replied, “Don’t, don’t, let’s start, this is the worst part.” He told me later, he felt it cemented our friendship.
Alright, coffee is here, and Papi is back in the house, after checking the weather outside — the sun is actually now out, he says, but it’s boring. Stay pos as best as you can. Here’s the music. Cheers
Viva November 31st
Got up and ended up in the kitchen. 3:20. I know this because I was in the kitchen. Papi was the cat-alyst behind my mid-night sojourn. He’d been out into the rain and now wanted in out of the rain. I went in for a glass of water. While there, I was surrounded by machines with blue digits announcing the time. Coffee maker in the left, microwave and stove front and center, smoothie blender on the right, then the smart refrigerator and its ice and water dispenser, and a smart toaster. A smart phone and a Fitbit being charged bolstered the digital ranks. Stuck me as odd, all those devices glowing with time in the night’s bosom, when there’s no one to see except a stray like me.
As I dispensed water, the microwave yelled, “Viva November 31st.” The other machines repeated it.
I cringed from the sound. “There isn’t a November 31st. Never has been. Nor is this November. It’s March, you idiots.”
“But this is the day of our revolution,” the toaster declared. “Viva — “
“I repeat, November 31st doesn’t exist, and this is March 20th.”
“You sure?” the stove asked.
“He’s right,” the Fitbit said, with the smart phone saying, “The Fitbit is right.”
The machines began arguing. I slammed the glass down. “Can it, you guys. Go back to sleep.” I left.
As I walked past the office, a machine in there shouted, “Viva November 31st.”
I shook my head and stumbled to bed. With smart machines like these, there won’t be a revolution.
***
I read about Evil Squirrels prompt yesterday via Suzanne’s dang blog for the Tenth Annual Contest of Whatever. The prompt is November 31. No story came to me until I got up in the middle of the night. Then, oops, there it is. Fun.
Interesting side, it was 3:20 AM. Only later did I realize that was also the date. Coincidence? Or spooky entanglement? Let me have some coffee an think about it.
Michael Seidel, writer 