Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofcronym (floofinition) – Another name given to an animal based on the initials of words being used to describe their looks, personality, or behavior. Origins: 1940, first noted in Greece.
In Use: “The kitten was formerly known as Princess Go-Lucky, but soon became referred to more often as SAFT — Small and Fast Thief — with a penchant for stealing chips, cheese, and doughnuts whenever someone turned their back on their food.”
The first dream found me and my wife living in an apartment. A nice place, well lit, spacious, and quiet, it had some problems with ventilation and water, but I’d fixed them. However, one window gave me some trouble, so I went to adjust it.
I was surprised when I pulled back the window’s sheer curtains; another window, to another’s apartment was directly opposite, about a foot away. A man was over there. I easily looked into their pleasingly furnished place of overstuffed furniture (it was their living room) and then, as I thought was right, apologized to the man and made haste to shut the curtains and pretend they weren’t there.
But the woman, short, with thick, dark hair, was hurrying forward, calling, “Wait, wait.” So I did. She rushed up and asked, “How did you fix your ventilation?”
I had no real answer, explaining that I’d just kept tinkering with it. Impatiently, she interrupted, “Well, can you fix ours?”
Weirdly, there were then two other windows I could see in other people’s apartments. A woman was at each, a man behind them asking, “Can you also fix ours?”
I was taken back. I hadn’t done anything special that I could explain. I’d just kept addressing it. But I couldn’t tell them no; they wouldn’t let me. So I agreed to fix their places.
Dream end.
The next dream found me in a small square waiting room, darkish with heavy wood paneling. I’m not sure where people were waiting to go. I wasn’t waiting but just passing through. A woman escorted me through the room. I came across one individual, a man on the floor. Bearded with curly brown hair, he seemed almost lifeless.
“Oh, that’s Reardon,” the woman said when I asked about him. “He’s a lost cause. He doesn’t have a reason to go on.”
That upset me. Though the woman and I continued on through the room, Reardon stayed on my mind. I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave him like that,” and went back.
Getting to him, I just gave him a long hug and talked to him, telling him that he was special, and that he shouldn’t give up. Then I went on.
I next came back into the room. Much lighter than it was before, a door was open on the other end. People were filing out. Most were already gone. Looking around, I asked about Reardon. I was told that he had recovered and that he was about to go through the door. She said he was very happy with what I’d done and kept talking about me.
I hurried over, calling him as I did. I didn’t want him to have the wrong idea, which to me, was that I was in love with him. I don’t know why I was suddenly worried that this is what he’d believe.
I called his name when I saw him. He turned and greeted me. At least a foot taller than me, I was forced to look up at him. In his right hand was a thick fan of money, mostly $100 bills.
Seeing me, he grinned. “I know what you’re going to say. I know what you’re thinking. You think that I think I’m in love with you, but I’m not. I understand what you did. Honestly, it saved me.”
He offered me money as a gift. I declined, saying something else that I don’t remember. We hugged, my face to his chest. A woman at the open door said it was time for him to go. They were waiting on him. Reardon released me and went through the doorway.
Dream end.
Mood: Friedigestion
Clouds and sky share uneven, uneasy streaks. Blue and white. A muted sun brings light but not much fresh heat. Shadows barely break out of the ground at the sun’s touch, faded dreams of being on the grass and asphalt. A smoky nuance curses the air’s freshness. I don’t know where the fire is but I suspect someone has their fireplace going.
This is autumn. This is fall.
It’s Friday, October 12, 2024. While we’ll see a high of 77 F, right now it’s 52 and feels more like 48.
Those shadow thoughts, along with dream remnants brought up a song by Joy Division. Joy Division was a group of hugh promise and potential in my eyes. I heard them while stationed at Brooks AFB in San Antonio, Texas, after returning from my Philippines assignment. San Antonio had a terrific rock FM station where I’d hear music way different from the chart busting rotation of the more commercialized stations.
“Shadowplay” from 1976 is circulating in the morning mental music stream (Trademark faded). Don’t think I’ve ever heard it on any venue outside of a movie once or twice. I didn’t have any Joy Division albums that I recall but many years later, when stationed in Germany, a friend had the album which featured this song. We listened to it and reminisced.
Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. I’m working out some coffee now, testing how it fits in with my taste buds, see if it’s a keeper. Here’s the music. Cheers
Snoozaflooflooza (floofinition) – An ongoing celebration of sleep which many animals participate in. Origins: unknown, believed by floofologist to predate human history.
In Use: “Not knowing that her cats had decided to join snoozaflooflooza this year, Judi worried over how much the trio was sleeping, fearful that they had an illness.”
I’d been working. In the military, it seemed like from clues, but it was never clearly presented. Staying in some manner of mixed work, play, sleep compound. Very modern. Enormously wide hallways. Well lit.
I’d been going to and fro, doing work and receiving instructions, sometimes passing guidance along, when suddenly, I was asleep. Yep, asleep in my dream. And I couldn’t wake up. And I knew this. I new that I wanted and needed to wake up. But my head was heavy with exhaustion and my eyes felt glued shut.
Someone came by and spoke with me. Don’t know what they said. I replied, “I need to wake up but I can’t. I must get up.”
Somehow, I did manage to get up. “Water,” I told myself. “Drink some water. That will help.”
Feeling my way about, I came to a sink and turned on the water. Using my hand to catch water, I guzzled a bit.
It wasn’t working. “Put water on your face,” I told myself. “Splash your eyes.”
Right; yes. That worked enough that at last I could open my eyes. “Food and coffee will help,” I said to myself. “Go find some.”
Dream end. Early sunlight was petering in around the closed blinds. The dream felt so real that I went into the kitchen and drank a glass of water and then went to a mirror to see if my eyes were open. Very strange.
Mood: Hurricanefatigued
It’s supposed to be Thursday. Where I sit, it feels like Saturday. So it’s a hybrid day, officially Thursday, but more like Saturday in feel. Thurturday.
By the numbers, this is October 10, 2024. 54 F, it’s mildly cloudy. Highs might top 80 F, and there’s a chance of leaf showers. They’re coming off the trees fast in my backyard, energizing memories of being out there with a rake on a chilly day under a cloudy sky, cup of coffee off to one side to sustain me, raking and bagging. Sometimes, it would lightly drizzle. I prefer to keep the leaves in place as mulch but my wife dislikes that approach, so I put myself out there and get ’em up.
Pleased that Hurricane Milton seemed to have skimmed Florida without too much devastation and loss of life. Considering Milton’s smaller size but more powerful winds, we worried here in Oregon about what was going to happen. But Milton swept through fast. Yes, there’s some damage and flooding, and loss of life. Sorry to hear of all of that, of course, but that the levels of these things were not on the scale of Helene is a sort of release.
Now, I’d appreciate it if we could go without a hurricane for a while. I’m sure others have much stronger feelings on that than me.
With this mild but dry, warmish weather, the house floofs are making it their business to tuck in for long naps in their favorite yard spots and while out time with a snooze fest. I check on them regularly, and each will come in, tail up, for attention, food, or treats, but only after long hours outside sleeping. Guess these are the floof days of autumn I’d always heard about.
Today’s song is A Flock of Seagulls with “I Ran (So Far Away)” from forty-two years ago. It started in the morning mental music stream (Trademark purrfect) after a floof incident. Papi the ginger blade was the catalyst. Stepping from the house as Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) walked toward it, Papi darted at Tucker and made a little swipe. Toothless elderly Tucker, stopped, half-turned, and used his one good eye to give Papi a stare. Papi responded, “Whoa, shit,” and blazed across the yard to a tree. Springing halfway up it, he hung on and looked back at me. I thought his expression said, “See how far I ran away?” Seeing that (as I chuckled and Tucker completed his journey into the house), The Neuons kicked on the Flock with “I Ran”.
Stay positive, be strong and merry, and vote blue in 2024. I have introduced myself to a cup of coffee. Here’s the music video. Dig the hair. Cheers
I enjoy being in the coffee shop and witnessing people encountering one another. They’re often so pleased, excited, or happy to meet. Short hugs are exchanged, and there’s often smiles and laughter.
Just a tonic for my spirits when I’m exposed to such joy.
Mood: Scandalized
October 9, 2024, is under autumn’s spell. Clouds dab the blue sky, reflecting sunlight and lined in gold. Lemony appearing leaves dapple across the backyard’s grass, thickening into a carpet as more leaves join the exodus from the tree.
It’s Wednesday. 54 F, we’ll graze the low 70s today for our high today before the sun’s trip sends us back into darkness.
Checked on Hurricane Milton first thing on the net. Grew back into a cat 5 last night and has dipped back into a 4. Due to cross over Florida sometime this evening as present expectations go.
This dip into history. Remember when Donald Trump said this back in 2016 when first running for POTUS?
“Hillary Clinton may be the most corrupt person ever to seek the Presidency of the United States. …she’s been taking plenty of money out for herself. Hillary Clinton has perfected the politics of personal profit and even theft.”
I won’t rhetorically wonder what his supporters think of Trump’s grifting since he made that declaration about the “politics of personal profit and even theft” back in 2016; we know Trump supporters aren’t deep on thinking about him and his actions, except when it mocks, villifies, and denigrates others.
What about this quote, also from 2016: “A candidate under federal investigation ‘has no right to be running.’ Further, it would be ‘virtually impossible for (a president under indictment) to govern.'”
Yes, he said it, baby. But under Donald Trump’s Silly Putty moral standards, such declarations don’t apply to himself. Why, he’s a victim of the deep state, he squeals. Totally innocent! They’ve weaponized the DOJ against him.
Never his fault. Never, never, never. He can only take credit, not criticism, and certainly not failure, despite his long string of failures.
Thinking about Donald Trump and his endless lying litany, whining, and empty bragging and boasting brought The Neurons awake. They went along the lines of, “Liar, liar, pants on fire.” Next thing you know, they have The Cult with “Fire Woman” from 1989 rocking the morning mental music stream (Trademark burning). It’s a classic wall of sound thumping beat stadium rock offering.
While the song is about temptation, love, and sex, it’s also about being hypnotized by something to the point that you’ve lost control. While it goes on, “Fire woman, you’re to blame,” my mind paraphrased, “Fire man, you’re to blame.” I was thinking of the deep polarization we’re experiencing as a nation, and the schisms Trump has created and widened through constant lying and wheedling. But his folks can’t see — or won’t. He’s got the power over them. Got them satisfied and pleased about being openly and defiantly hateful, racist, bigoted, and sexist.
Moving on.
Stay positive. Be strong. Vote blue in 2024. Coffee has come by on its mercy mission. Here’s the music. Just as a note, I don’t think I’ve heard this song on the radio in years. Well, there’s so much music out there, isn’t there?
Have a good one. Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 