Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Cuddle puddles on your arms,
Showering you with furry charms.
Can induce laziness with little will,
Making the need to do things drop to nil.
Maybe sleep and read,
Or read and sleep,
Or just stroke the floofs,
And live and be.
They’ll take your cares and troubles away,
But you’ll probably end up losing a day.
Though most say, that’s alright in the end,
Cause what’s better than spending time with friends?
In the first, I was in a dark place. Not threatening or anything, just limited light, like narrow sporadic spotlights. Third person personal POV, I couldn’t discern my age but I’m younger than now. I heard a brief comment, always in a male’s voice, and sensed the presence of someone much larger than me watching.
In front of me were a line of orange building blocks. They seemed like they were made of foam but I knew they were more substantial. I also ‘knew’ that I was part of a project. We’d been chosen to align these blocks in some way to harness their energy, and that the blocks were full of creative energy. Although I was working with others, I never saw anyone else. As I walked and studied the blocks, I concluded some things and moved them, sometimes physically, but as frequently by using my mind. As I worked, I heard the voice say, “They’re figuring it out. They’re coming together.” Dream end.
The next dream found me now arranging black blocks in almost the same situation, except the background was gray instead of dark. Again, I was moving the blocks with my body or mind, trying to bring them together, and I felt change taking place around me as I worked. Sometimes other blocks would appear and I would understand that someone else from the project had put the blocks there. As I connected my blocks with their blocks, I remembered the previous dream and realized, the first dream’s blocks were about generating creativity — that’s why they were orange — and these second set of blocks were to build from the orange blocks by using logic.
Dream end.
Mood: sultry
Wednesday in Ashlandia, where the air is clear today, and the people are happy, today. 58 F now, the weather system is expected to deliver a high of 82 this afternoon before the night shift comes on.
Ukraine’s stand against Russia’s land grab continues, which is good for the number of deaths but not anything else. War, what is it good for, you know. This one isn’t good for anything. I’m impressed by Ukraine’s stand and hope that Russia — sorry, Putin — will come to his senses and declare a cease fire. Not holding my breath, though.
I applaud Gov. Kemp’s stand against the false election lie peddlers, aka Trumpists and MAGAts. Nice to hear some principles of law are respected by a few Republicans, at least on this matter. I’m weary of the others and their constant cry about stolen elections. No evidence, turned down in multiple courts, multiple levels, multiple states. Yet their claims keep going. The trail against Trump and gang will be intriguing.
Was some good news when DNA evidence cleared a man of wrongful conviction after five decades. Imagine the weight of being accused and convicted while you know you’re innocence, and all that happens to you in the penal system after such a conviction. Imagine that weight being finally lifted when you’re 72 years old.
Reading about Gary Wright’s death from cancer at a respectable age of 80 — not bad for a rocker — has The Neurons playing “Dream Weaver” (1975) for me in my morning mental music stream (Trademark giftwrapped). It helps that I had several dreams of interest to me. With Buffett Harwell, and Wright’s death, existence lived up to the ‘always in threes’ billing of celebrities dying.
Stay pos and strong, and raise your head and look forward to what you can do. I’ll do the same after I have some strong black coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers
A mental mistake. Revising today, the draft surprised me; things I thought I’d changed yesterday weren’t changed. WTH, over? Didn’t I change that? And that? Was that all a mirage, a dream, work done in a different reality.
Realization came belatedly, no, I was in the wrong draft. While working on the latest draft yesterday, I’d opened a previous draft to look something up. Well, it was the last doc closed yesterday, so it went to the top of the document list. Without thinking today, I opened it up, went to where the doc said I left off, and commenced revision. Wasn’t until I glanced at the page number and realized I was twenty pages behind that I finally seriously applied critical thinking to the moment and understood what happened.
What a rube. What a mistake. No harm; just time. But damn, I thought I did some good revising today. Hope I’ve learned a lesson and don’t do that again.
My wife said, “I’m going to wear my blue sweater that I wore the other day, but I think you can see through it in the sunlight.”
I answered, “You can.”
“You could see through it?”
“Yes.”
“You could see through it but you chose not to say anything?”
“You’re very fashion aware. It’s a loose knit sweater. I thought you knew.”
Eyes rolling, throwing her hands up, she stormed off. I shrugged, guessing, I must be the asshole for not saying anything, and then reflecting on the entire process one more time.
We didn’t stay angry long; after being together for over fifty-two years as friends and everything else, we don’t stay angry. Act out or vent, move on. She came out, ready to go. She wasn’t wearing the blue sweater in question but a light blue sweater. I said, sincerely, “You look nice.”
She grinned at me. “Not see through?”
“Totally opaque,” I replied.
Mood: focused
It’s Tuesday morning in Ashlandia, where the sky is blue and the trees are green. September 5, 2023, we’re teetering between summer and autumn here. 49 F upon rising, it’s now 58 F and heading for the low eighties. Trees haven’t begun turning yet but the air’s smell and feel seem shifted. Peaches are harvested from friends and neighbors’ places, and damn were they awesome. No cherries this year; didn’t work out weather-wise.
Had to drop off my car at the mech’s this morn. I’d had new pads, etc., installed in the rear, and the car developed this strange groaning. Took it back to the mech; they found a rock stuck in the caliper. That should fix it, no charge.
It didn’t.
So, I took it back and requested the mechanic drive around with me so he could hear it. He concluded it might be the bearings in the hub assembly. So they’re putting ears on the chassis, which sounds neat. They’re listening devices which can be isolated so you can define where the sound is originating. They’ll hopefully find and fix the cause today.
Anyway, that process forced me out of my rhythm. Had to have early AM coffee. Now I’m catching up. The Neurons are firing but have brought up “Beth” by KISS (1976) where it whirls around the morning mental music stream (Trademark outstanding). I’ve searched for reasons for the song and interrogated Les Neurons, but none of them will confess why they chose that song. Only thing that came to mind was that the singer is focused and struggling with a creative endeavor, suffering isolation and separation to achieve their end. I identify with that when I’m writing and my world focus draws in to go work on the book.
I’ll make it through. Hope you do, too. Stay pos, be strong, work it out. More coffee is due. Here’s the music. Cheers
Floofvoid (floofinition) – 1. The empty space left when an animal isn’t there.
In use: “Many people suffer from floofvoid when a loved fur friend is lost.”
2. Action or behavior to prevent an accident or limit interaction with an animal.
In use: “Floofvoiding mechanisms were frequently employed by Nancy as she walked around the house, because her pets would just throw themselves in her way for attention.”
Michael Seidel, writer 