The Family Help Dream

Dreamed I was writing a book. Sitting at a small, ancient personal computer, beige and tall, I wore a tee shirt and shorts and worked at tiny desk, just me in a chair by a tall and narrow window.

But I was being helped. I learned through my elderly uncle (my father’s younger brother and alive) that many family members were helping me with it. That list included some who passed on. As I typed, I could see them elsewhere, arranging and editing. Sometimes I could see some of their work and the changes they made because it was in bold.

I was working on a deadline. My uncle knew this and would come by to tell me what was transpiring with the other group and check on me. As I finished, I told them that they needed to finish as well. They did, dropping off the work with my uncle. They left without saying anything to me.

Finishing, I collected my work and went to say bye to my uncle. He presented what the others had prepared. I was grateful and thanked him. Then I hastily changed clothes and got into a small, light green sedan, something older made by BMW. I drove once around the block, which was tree lined, with old trees, and well-paved streets. I saw the others and waved to them, laughing as they waved back. I called out my thanks and they shouted back, “You’re welcome.” Then I drove on.

Weirdly, as this dream fell away, I heard the Thompson Twins singing “Hold Me Now.” The song stayed in my head when I awoke, along with the shadows from the dream.

November 30, 2022 0

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Get out your cards and markers. Time for daily bingo.

Wednesday. November. Thirty. Twenty twenty-two. Sunrise. Seven nineteen. Forty-one degrees F. Forty-six degrees F. Sunshine. Clear skies. Rain. Sunset. Four forty.

We have a bingo. Congratulations, sir. Here is your coffee.

Winds are blustering like a lying politician trying to distract everyone from their crimes. Our backyard flowering pear is shedding its golden leaves by the binful, turning the back land into a golden carpet. All around town, the leaves in the trees are switching to the same brown shade, beautiful in its own manner. Naked tree branches stretch toward sunshine and spring’s promise as a November day full of autumn hails the oncoming winter.

A dream provided The Neurons with today’s morning mental music stream selection. “Hold Me Now” by the Thompson Twins was released in 1983 and became a hit in many places. It also was used to end a dream last night. So, it comes up now as today’s music selection.

I have my coffee, thanks, courtesy of winning daily bingo. Stay pos, test neg, etc. Try to live a good life. Make moments count. Here’s the tune. Cheers

November 30, 2022 0

November 29, 2022 0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thought

He accompanied his wife when she went clothes shopping. As he followed her, he began to consider what he’d wear and how he would dress as a woman. It felt like the swath of options and challenges for them are much greater than they are for men. Of course, many demands on women and how they dress are thrust on them by society and shaped by their bodies and coloring. After five minutes, he decided that it was just as well that he was male and didn’t need to think about all those things, starting with bras.

November 29, 2022 0

Traveling Alone Dream

My wife and I had been traveling together but stopping to stay in a town, I went off on my own to visit with friends.

Now I was returning at dawn. I was staggering with exhaustion, having been up all night driving and walking.

I was a little lost. Things looked somewhat familiar but each turn had me pause to frown and figure out where to go.

At last I was in a little blue car. I came out a parking lot and began turning right. A huge red pickup truck went by, just missing me. A second came by and almost hit with both of us swerving at the same time. Both of those vehicles had been on the wrong side of the road. Quick as that, as I’m cursing the other drivers, I remember, this is a one-way street, and it goes that-away. I snap the wheel around to go in the right way, grateful there weren’t more cars coming because that could have been disastrous. Parking behind the two trucks, who simply pulled off, I walk up to apologize to the drivers. The second truck’s driver is a large elderly man, a white fellow with short silver hair, wearing a light blue short-sleeved flannel shirt. He’s walking up to the red truck. Its windows are all blacked out. I can’t see its driver.

I shrug off apologizing. I’ve reached the hotel where my wife and I are staying. I traverse a little alley and enter the rear of an aircraft to cut through to the hotel. People have spread mattresses and blankets across the aisles, and they’re sleeping. There’s also a huge Great Dane sleeping under one blanket. It wakes, sees me, and gets up and moves out of my way. The sleeping people and another little dog, small and white, awaken and see me, and laugh at the situation. I carefully get up on the mattresses and pick my way to the other end of the plane, out and into the lobby.

It’s a light blue lobby, with a coffee shop to one side. A middle-aged dark-haired woman with short black hair and brown hair greets me. I’m exhausted. I ask for coffee and then go to use the restroom. In there, I see myself in the mirror. My hair is dark brown, full and thick, matching my beard and mustache. I look like a wildman who just returned from living in the jungle. I’m wearing pale blue shorts. They’re not mine. I check my pockets for my wallet; it’s there. Finding a brush, I style my hair, beard, and mustache. That instantly transforms me into a really good-looking guy.

Okay, back out at the counter, light blue Formica, I find a glass mug. It has thin brown fluid in it, which might be weak tea, along with ice and a lemon. I sip some as a woman comes up. I realize it must be hers and apologize for drinking her drink but figure, I’ll continue, since I started. I ask for coffee to add to it.

Leaving there, I head for my room. It’s either 126 or 124. I can’t remember and chastise myself for not asking at the desk. The rooms are like little cottages but they’re stacked side by side.

I pull a key out of my pocket. It’s a bizarre skeleton key. I have no idea what it’ll fit, but it’s not a room key. It has a square, almost baroque wire design, with a short skinny portion for the lock. WTH? I have no idea where it came from so I return it to my pocket and then continue to look for the room where we’re staying.

Dream end.

November 29, 2022 0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Hard frost whitens bare ground. It’s 31 F (yeah, you know what that is in C) and sunny. Gorgeous, really, with a preternaturally blue sky. Our backyard’s flowering pear still houses branches full of leaves, but they’ve gone lemony yellow. The sunshine striking its upper reaches really brings the color to life.

It’s Tuesday, the twenty-ninth of November in the common era year 2022. Sunrise came at 7:18 AM. Sunset is planned by the forces of nature to finish daylight at 4:40 PM. In between, the temperature will rise into the forties and it might run. There aren’t any clouds so I have a jaundiced view to that but then again, weather.

I have “Heavy Is the Head” by the Zac Brown Band with the late Chris Cornell filling the morning mental music stream. The 2015 song reminds me of something in the late sixties/early seventies era of classic rock that might have originated with Black Sabbath, without the finer lead guitar Sabbath’s Iommi brought. I didn’t hear HItH much on the radio back in ’15 but heard it on television while I was traveling and stopping at places, which seemed weird. But it stuck. The Neurons brought it up today because I was teasing my number one cat after number two cat took a swipe at him, talking about how hard it is to be number one and rule the house. Heavy is the crown on that furry black and white head, which led to the song.

Stay pos, test neg, etc. Have a most excellent Tuesday, as they say. Time to say hello to a cuppa joe and shift the morning into a higher gear. Here’s the music.

Cheers

November 29, 2022 0

November 28, 2022 0

Floomp

Floomp (floofinition) – 1. A balled clump of animal hair or fur found on clothing, towels, and bedding after they’ve been washed.

In use: “Going to put on a pair of socks, Brenda discovered floomps on their bottoms, which she meticulously pulled off as her cat and dog came up, sat down, and watched. She would swear that her pets were smirking as they watched.”

2. A wave or heavy impact caused by an animal landing on a person, bed, or bouncy objects.

In use: ‘The little dog leaped up, landing on her with a floomp which made her say, “Oof. Not on the nipple, please. Why do you always land on my nipples?”‘

November 28, 2022 0

A Weird Car Trip Dream

Friends and I were awakening from sleep in a darkly cluttered place. Three or four others were there, including one friend from RL forty years ago. The others were dream friends but not anyone from this RL. As the sun rose, an old stage, perhaps once part of a high school but now outside, gained substance.

We talked about news while sitting up, rubbing sleep out of our faces, and stretching. One was complaining that people didn’t understand the news and headlines. Someone suggested that we should do plays where we would just read headlines and stories and then explain them. Sounded good to me. Someone else said that we needed to clean the area up but I asked why because the stage with its clutter and junk seemed like a meta statement about our world. As this conversation went on, the sun rose, daylight came up, papers were dropped off on the stage and people became walking past. We’d been rolling up our sleeping bags, putting other shirts on, and making coffee. Now one guy picked up a newspaper and started reading it aloud. People going past stopped to listen.

I went down steps, out the back, and met my cousin. He and I went off to collect our clothing, which was somewhere else, because we needed to get ready to go. He kept talking about what he was going to wear and asking my opinion of his ideas, but I wasn’t deeply invested in that and didn’t respond much. Reaching a building, we went upstairs and found our open suitcases. This wasn’t the clothes we wanted; that was at Mom’s house, my cousin thought, suggesting that we go there. I told my wife where we were going. She decided to come with us.

We entered a large white vehicle with a thick black stripe down each side. The inside was flat and wide, with a thin, gray carpet on the floor. Windows were on every side, giving great visibility. Some gray folding chairs were set up in it in the front, but we would need more. I set up some chairs that I found, dubbing one in the second row by the window as ‘mine’. Two people were already seated in the front row, where three chairs were set up. One of those was my SIL, who was waiting to leave as well, which startled me. For some reason, I didn’t expect her there.

My cousin had disappeared, and so had my wife. I went out to Mom’s home and found the clothes which I wanted, and put on a green shirt to wear while I traveled. Going back outside I saw cars pulling up and parking on the lush green lawn. “They’re not going to like that,” I told others several times, talking about the people who lived in this housing area. “They’re proud of their lawn. They should move their cars before they’re found.”

Everyone ignored me. I found my cousin back inside Mom’s house. Mom was talking to him as he complained that his clothes weren’t there. I looked and discovered that the suitcase holding his clothes had been emptied. I told him that he would just need to go in what he was wearing, which really upset him.

I returned to the white car. Nobody had set up any more chairs. The driver was present, adjusting his folding chair as a seat, along with my SIL, who was still in her seat. My wife was in the seat which I’d designated for myself. I complained about that with her; she ignored me. Exasperated, I set up another chair behind my SIL. I asked her where she was going, and she answered, “The same place as you.”

I responded, “I’m going back to school.”

She answered, “So am I.”

The car rocked with movement. Going to a window and looking out, I discovered that the car was tall and much larger than expected. We seemed to be twenty feet off the ground. I didn’t know how that was possible.

Dreams ends as the car moves forward with me looking out the window and others talking behind me.

November 28, 2022 0

Monday’s Theme Music

The furnace is running. It’s 36 F (2.2 C) outside, not so bad while you’re inside, where it’s sixty-eight. No sunshine through the windows, even after I opened the blinds and curtains, and the daylight is tentative. A mottled grey field meets my eyes when I turn them skyward. Autumn is finally surrendering its grip. Nude trees wave and bow.

It’s Monday, November 28, 2022, November’s final Monday. By the week’s midpoint, we’ll be in 2022’s final month. Winter is closing in with increased speed, having already arrived early in some places. But then, the calendar gives us an average. It’s different around the world, even in the northern hemes. South of the equator, summer is coming.

42 F and rain and snow showers will play for the afternoon. The sun delivered the daylight portion at 7:16 AM and the performance ends at 4:41 PM.

“Skin Deep” by Buddy Guy is playing in the morning mental music stream. The Neurons lured it out of memory last night when I was thinking about racism and prejudice and the insanity of it all. This song was offered as part of the Playing for Change series in 2018. I admire the project, and Buddy Guy is one of my favorite blues performers. Beyond Buddy, there’s other impressive singers and musicians coming together from diverse locations to present us this music, including several choirs. Hope you’ll take a listen.

Stay positive, test negative and do what’s needed to protect yourself, family, and community. You know, like masking to keep the spread down. Coffee is here so I shall retire to the solace of a cup. Here’s the music. I’m going to listen again. Cheers