The Commercial Dream

It’s difficult to characterize and summarize this dream as anything except a commercial break between other dreams.

To my knowledge, this dream began October 21, because I posted about it that morning. Versions of it have been erratically but frequently recurring since then. It’s so short, like thirty seconds when I think about it, I’ve started wondering if I dreamed it or imagined that I dreamed it.

And it’s simple. I dream that I’m standing somewhere. There’s not really a background or place. I’m always younger. I look like I’m in my early twenties. Sometimes I’m bathed in a circle of light and I’m looking down on myself. Other times, I can see myself standing upright a few feet away, dressed, like I’m about to do something or leave. My clothing don’t really stand out. I just know it’s me. Sometimes, I see only my upper self, still dressed, from a few feet away.

In all cases, I then hear a voice. The voice is male and light. It doesn’t remind me of anyone. Sometimes it says, “Swaddle yourself in yellow.” Other times, swaddle is replaced by swathe, coat, or bathe. Yellow light then floods over me.

Only the first one that I remember in this series was different. In that one, I was spreading yellow butter on my forearm.

Then it’s on to other dreams.

November 3, 2019 0

Floofperstition

Floofperstition (floofinition) – Excessively credulous reverence for animals and their powers, especially their ability to bring luck to humans.

In use: “Daniel didn’t consider himself superstitious, but talking to his dog, Chaparral, he realized that he’d developed a floofperstition that his lab was a good luck talisman. Since rescuing the dog, he’d won the lottery, published a bestseller, fallen in love and married, and now had his first baby. Coincidence? That’s what some would say. Others would say luck. He said, floofperstition; it was the dog.”

November 3, 2019 0

Daniel Said

November 3, 2019 2

Sunday’s Theme Music

Suffering from a cold caught while traveling. So today, blowing my nose while coughing and shaking my head, I was like, “I just want to be okay.”

I’m doing much better and expect to be okay today. That popped the song, “Be OK” by Ingrid Michaelson (2008). It’s a bouncy tune with not much depth, perfect for my mind, which isn’t deep.

A light song is good for today, though, as I surf political news, roll my eyes, and walk away to take a break from the world. It is Sunday.

November 3, 2019 0

The Muses’ Pitches

Things went well for an unplanned process, defying expectations. I finished revising and editing a novel, felt I something to submit, and began that process. I finished all that just in time to fly across country to visit with my Mom. I won’t say how old she is but she remembers listening to the radio to get news of World War II. She’s recovering from shoulder replacement surgery and it was her birthday. It gave me a chance to visit with sisters and their families, too.

It turned into one of those visits that makes me nostalgic, one that finds me wishing that I lived closer to these family members and socialized with them more often. I left that part of my home before I had a driver’s license, so much of their living and growing has been without my presence. They’ve grown into people that I never foresaw, and their extended families of children and grandchildren amaze and delight me.

Now back home, I’m ready to begin a new writing project. Four concepts have reached the finals. As I walk about, live life, and drink coffee, muses have taken up representation of each concept. They’re pushing hard on their babies.

All of them would be fun and challenging to write, (otherwise, why bother, am I right?). One goes into a completely different direction. Another continues my recent trend of writing ideas. A third concept returns me to write another of the Life Lessons with Savanna series (two books have been written and self-published). The fourth concept takes me into the murder thriller realm.

All are books I’d like to read. That makes them books I’d like to write. I’ve given each concept some BRAM (Biological Random Access Memory), sketching scenes, forming characters, and outlining rough plots and arcs in my head. As I contemplate my choices, I remember how many other concepts I have stashed in my head, waiting for daylight. I feel bad for ignoring them but no muses are stepping up to rep them. I imagine the muses that stood for them before sitting around in their bathrobes, drinking beer and wine from coffee cups in small, cluttered sitting rooms, reading newspapers and magazines, watching television, and noshing on snacks. They’ve aged and lost hair, and aren’t the beautiful young muses that they once were. They’re not interested in generating the energy to dress and give a proper presentation. “Another time,” they say with a wave of their cups and food, as they continue with the activity.

Sounds like I’m running an old muse home in my head.

After writing all of this, I sipped coffee, did a stroll and mulled the projects. The muses made their pitches again. One concept was chosen.

Here I go. Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

November 2, 2019 3

Another Barbara Said

November 2, 2019 2

Floofstache

Floofstache (floofinition) – Marking on animal that resembles human facial hair that’s known as a mustache.

In use: “All black, the dignified tuxedo had a white floofstache that gave her face magnificent gravitas.”

November 2, 2019 5

The Spaceship Dream

I dreamed I was in a spaceship or a space capsule. Small, it was tight with equipment. No one else seemed present.

I was excited. I was in space! That I wasn’t weightless or floating surprised me, but I dismissed that with little thought. Wanting to view the earth, space, and moon from this unique vantage, I hunted for a window. I couldn’t find a damn window anywhere. What kind of craziness is this? I wondered. Spaceships need windows.

As I turned in my search, I’d discovered that I could walk further into the spaceship. It seemed bigger than I thought. But when I didn’t find a window and turned to retrace my steps, I found that I couldn’t go back. All I could do is turn and go forward. That bothered and mystified me.

Awakening at that point, I leaped up. I’d fallen asleep in the recliner in the snug. The television was on but nothing was onscreen.

I didn’t recognize that, though. Panicking, I was trying to understand what I was supposed to be doing. Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something? I was sure that was the case. Seeing the television, though, I began understanding that I was home.

Home? That ignited new surprised panic. How did I get home? Where was the spaceship?

At last my mind grasped, that was a dream…

November 2, 2019 0

Saturday’s Theme Music

Today’s music comes from visiting Mom last week. Whenever I’d talk about driving to my sister’s house, Mom would ask me which way I was going to go and then tell me which way she was going to go. My route varied by time of day, what I was seeing along the way to fill in memories, and what I’d learned about the road construction and congestion during my stay. Mom always took the same route. By the third day of this, Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” (1976) was in my stream.

Fleetwood Mac’s song is about relationships. In a way, that’s how it was for me, when thinking of Mom and remembering this song.

Although I like the studio version of this song better, I chose this live version. I like the nakedness and clarity of the band members. Seeing them reminds me of the people behind the song. The song had a lot of personal reasons behind it as Nicks and Buckingham had broken up; this song was written out of his pain.

Beyond that, I love watching Mick pounding away on the drums. Wow.