The Little Competition Dream

It seemed as if I was in a quasi-military unit again. A new guy, young, I arrived as a strange ceremony was underway.

I took it in at a glance: large wooden but modern yurt. High wooden ceiling. People in uniforms – could be military, marching bands, firefighters – in groups, waiting.

Two senior people took me aside. The taller one said, “Your timing is perfect. We’re going to have you do the judging.”

I was like, the judging? I said nothing.

They led me to a round wooden table. On it was a brown wooden basket. “Basically,” it was explained, “you find their flare and trinkets and count them up.”

They were doing activity as this was being explained. I watched, following, gleaning the essence. This was a competition. The groups had stuff. I had to find it but judge it not on its merits but on its quantity. This would not be hard.

I counted some stuff. Marked it. Initialed the little slip of white paper it was on.

My instructors laughed. “Don’t bother initialing it. That’ll slow you down.”

I was affronted. I wanted accountability. Precision. But said nothing.

One of the groups’ leaders, tall guy with a rambling reddish-brown beard, was watching and spoke up. “He’s doing the judging? Look how slow he’s going. This is going to take forever.”

The tall leader responded, “He’s just starting. He’ll speed up.”

Indeed, I was speeding up, and learning the challenge’s intricacies. For example, in one green uniform, they had hundreds of small pockets. In each was a little gold trinket. Each had to be found and counted.

That’s how it was with all of these uniforms. The teams found things and hid them. Everything was small, and it was up to me to find and count it. Pretty nuts, I thought.

A woman in uniform, waiting to hand over her garments for my inspection and counting said, “This is pretty important to people.”

I nodded; I could tell.

She continued, “They put a lot of work and thought into it.”

“I can see that,” I replied.

The small things were adding up and time was going faster. I found new places to stack it all, keeping it neat and orderly.

Dream endThe Little Competition Dream

I was in a quasi-military unit again. A new guy, young, I arrived as a strange ceremony was underway.

I took it in at a glance: large wooden but modern yurt. High wooden ceiling. People in uniforms – could be military, marching bands, firefighters – in groups, waiting.

Two senior people took me aside. The taller one said, “Your timing is perfect. We’re going to have you do the judging.”

I was like, the judging? I said nothing.

They led me to a round wooden table. On it was a basket. “Basically,” it was explained, “you find their flare and trinkets and count them up.”

They were doing activity as this was being explained. I watched, following, gleaning the essence. This was a competition. The groups had stuff. I had to find it but judge it not on its merits but on its quantity. This would not be hard.

I counted some stuff. Marked it. Initialed the little slip of white paper it was on.

My instructors laughed. “Don’t bother initialing it. That’ll slow you down.”

I was affronted. I wanted accountability. Precision. But said nothing.

One of the groups’ leaders were watching and spoke up. “He’s doing the judging? Look how slow he’s going. This is going to take forever.”

The tall leader responded, “He’s just starting. He’ll speed up.”

Indeed, I was speeding up, and learning the challenge’s intricacies. For example, in one green uniform, they had hundreds of small pockets. In each was a little gold trinket. Each had to be found and counted.

That’s how it was with all of these uniforms. The teams found things and hid them. Everything was small, and it was up to me to find and count it. Pretty nuts, I thought.

A woman in dark green serge uniform, waiting to hand over her garments for my inspection and counting said, “This is pretty important to people.”

I nodded; I could tell.

She continued, “They put a lot of work and thought into it.”

“I can see that,” I replied.

The small things were adding up and time was going faster. I found new places to stack it all, keeping it neat and orderly.

Dream end

Sometimes, These Things

I was running for exercise. As I did, I became aware of my body’s sounds. A novel concept emerge.

I curtailed the run and went home. Sitting down, I typed up the first twenty pages, about 2500 words, then went for water and to clean up and change clothes. While I was doing those things, I realized a potential ending and saw more scenes.

I added the book to my To Be Written document.

Just the way it goes, sometimes, you know?

Tuesday’s Theme Music — Dirty Deeds

Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, April 14, 2026.

No rain today! Cloudy, blue sky is visible. 62 F is expected to be our high but it’s 46 F right now. Spring weather but more rain than we typically receive.

Trump’s body count continues to rise. As part of his project, Operation Look — Squirrel!, SOUTHCOM ordered more boaters killed. No court, no evidence, no trial; it’s the Trump Method.

I’m not surprised SOUTHCOM killed five more this week, bringing the total murders to 170. Trump Iran war, now seven weeks old, isn’t going well. Efforts to find peace and withdraw are going worse.

Then, his latest ploy in Operation Look — Squirrel!, to depict himself as Jesus while claiming it wasn’t a depiction and he was a doctor, went sideways fast, with the post quickly deleted.

This all comes on top of Melania Trump’s desperate efforts to project herself completely uninvolved with Ghislane or Epstein. Melania used the classic Trump defense, “Don’t believe the photographs and testimony, believe me, because I tell the truth.” While it works sometimes for Trump because he speaks the hate which MAGA and Evangelicals like, it didn’t work for Melania. She is experiencing historically low poll numbers for a first lady.

Instead of reassuring everyone, Melania also managed to remind everyone about the Epstein file. Dozy Donny has been trying to make it go away. After using it as a campaign tool by promising to release it all on day one, he’s complaining that people won’t forget it. Must have brought him a lot of joy *snark* when Melania held a conference to talk about it.

All that bad news was on top of rising gas prices in the US. High gas prices are not usually good for the economy, and the Trump economy was already not doing well, with the farmers and rural citizens who make up Trump’s base, doing especially poorly.

Well, things are blowing up for Trump, I thought this morning.

Boom *sorry*, The Neurons loaded the morning mental music stream with AC/DC and “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”. The 1976 rocker is all about a man willing to do dirty deeds for a price. That pretty well summarizes Trump’s minions and suck ups for me.

Hope your day is free of murders and travesties against humanity, sickness or illness. In other ways, hope it’s a good day for you and yours.

Cheers

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