R.F.M.
R.F.M. – Rapid Floof Movement (Floofinition) – Unexpected fast motion done by animals, often without a cause which humans readily comprehend.
In use: “As one, the sleeping floofs raised their heads and then launched a R.F.M. Debra shouted at the disappearing animals, “What’s going on,” but none of them slowed down to explain. They just disappeared into hiding places in other rooms.”
The White House Dream
This dream wasn’t about the POTUS home. I was visiting with friends at a white stick frame house. In excellent condition, it was about 100 years old and had an odd layout which annoyed me. The house had a small wing added to it. My friends and I were outside but sometimes entered the white house. But going to different parts required me to pass through the added wing.
I was with four to seven friends. The number varied as people came and went. All male, all are RL dead.
But we were outside at a table in a garden, surrounded by trees, enjoying ourselves, when I spotted a shimmering in the air. “Look at that,” I said. They looked but did not see, following up with queries for a description about what I saw. I’d been looking at a tree framed by blue sky and it looked for a second like it was a glassy pond surface broken by a small ripple.
The description amused the others but they didn’t see anything like that and dismissed it. I kept watching for another, jumping from my chair, pointing and shouting when one was seen. “There, see it? It’s like a clear soccer ball is forming from ripples on a clear lake reflecting the sky.”
Although they looked, they didn’t see, irritating me as they muttered to one another that I was seeing things. I responded by telling them off for not being more alert and aware.
Some of them were coming and going through this so the entire situation was being rehashed for the newcomers. When one returned, it became a joke for them to ask if I’d seen anything else.
I went off to use the restroom, talking to myself with outrage about their ability to see what I now called energy manifestations, as that’s what I thought they were. I passed through the added wing to go from the house’s back to the front and then in to use the bathroom. Emerging from the house on my return journey, I saw another of the rippling. This time, it was a hazy humanoid shape.
It struck me that these were ET or humans from another dimensions attempting to enter our existence. I didn’t mention it to the rest, who now labeled me as a little nuts. Shortly after sitting, I spotted another. This one was definitely a clear, naked, generless human form. I watched it come into being and walk off, a clear thing that went into the woods. Going into the wing, I spotted a short white man with a white bushy ‘stach walking through there. I knew he lived in that wing and then I knew, too, that he’d been one of the what I now called ‘energy beings’ in my head. Thereafter, I tried keeping an eye on him.
Then, from nowhere, we became aware of a large celebration of elderly men taking place in a field. Long tables set with white linen were set up. I realized that four tables were in place, with twenty-five men to a table. They were serving huge pieces of cake on china, with gold flatware. I wanted one of those pieces but it wasn’t offered to me.
The dream’s last scene was of the man who I thought was an ET standing between two large trees, looking at me, holding a plate with a piece of cake.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Blue skies and frosty white. This is Thursday. Our temperature is either 30, 37 or 40, all degrees in Fahrenheit. My house station where the furnace runs to warm us claims it is 30 F. Alexa says it’s 37 and another net site claims 40.
Today is January 26, 2023. We’re almost done with the two-faced month. Walking around the house at 6:37 AM, I was impressed by how much daylight I was seeing. That was despite us being in night mode, with all the blinds closed. Sunrise stepped in at 7:32, and off we went.
Today will reach 55 F or so before the sun vanishes from the Ashlandia sky around the 5:20 PM time period — it’ll be earlier in the mountains’ shadows by an hour or seem like the sun has set — but the forecasters are warning us. Winter is going to get serious. Lower temperatures will be coming by, clouds are collecting, and rain and snow are possible. Then, fanfare, Monday will see an Arctic blast. Lows will freefall into the teens. Daytime highs will scrap into the thirties. Break out extra binkies and some space heaters, hope power doesn’t fail, and take measures to ensure your pipes don’t freeze. The hardest part, though, will be convincing Papi to stay in. He’s gonna test the temps, I know.
First question for me as I pulled up the net was a cynical thought, what celebrity died today? It used to be ‘always in threes’ but now it seems to be evolving to one a day. Not a surprise if you think about it. We created an age of celebrity with the electronic age, lionizing those among us who rise in sports, politics, entertainment, and industry. Now they’re aging. Some, inevitably, will pass.
Speaking of passing, a 1972 Moody Blues song, “I’m Just A Singer (In A Rock and Roll Band)” has passed into the morning mental music stream. This came about as a character was going through a scene change as I did my morning business. He was lamenting about what he did and didn’t know and the limitations on what he could do as a result of his chaos sister’s death.
Stay pos. Hope your Thursday will be a fine venture. I’m off to refresh my coffee. Cheers
Wednesday’s Wandering Thought
It was Wednesday. As though scheduled by God, school children began filing into the coffee house at 2:05. Within five minutes, the number of people went from six quiet adults to six quiet adults and fifty noisy children aged ten through fifteen, at a guess. The volume rose. Their voices climbed louder. A fighter jet taking off would have been drowned out.
The cliques formed and routines were honored. Then one teenaged female raced back through the coffee house and out the front door. As she left, she screamed and then did a little dance. A girl outside ran up to her. The two surged into a long hug and began jumping up and down without releasing each other, joy overwhelming their expressions. Other girls in the coffee shop turned, saw the scene and ran out to join them. “Eva, Eva,” one running girl shouted as she raced out, answering one question.
Of course, other questions surfed his mind, like who was Eva and where had she been? She seemed very popular. It was like she was just getting back from prison, a hospital stay, or a very long trip.
Wednesday’s Floof Music
Papi here. Michael is my can opener. I’m helping him out. He’s running late, partly because he slept in because I woke him up six times during the night to go out and come back in or garner his attention because I was bored and had nothing to do. He was cool about it other than daring to lecture me about interrupting his sleep. These humans have such nerve, lecturing a cat about sleep. Cats know how to sleep. Humans can learn from us.
It’s Wednesday, I heard him say. As if I care. I know humans’ days of the week. They are so funny about days and dates. Take it from me, it’s not what you call a day that makes it smell and feel different. I’ve told him so before, but humans are slow learners, almost as slow as fish.
The sun came up after my first breakfast. Weather outside was cold enough before the sun came that I fluffed up my fur to keep warm. No one was out at that hour, which is why I wanted back in. I tried opening the door myself, but they locked it, and they won’t let me have a key. I tried getting the other cat to unlock the door, but he’s as slow as a human. Fortunately, it became sunnier and warmer. I like the sun.
I understand that I’m required to select a song as today’s theme music. There are many wonderful songs which I know would be great for that. I learned “Moonlight Singing” and “Attack, Attack” when I was just a kitten, of course. Youthful favorites include “Knock It Off”, “Catch It, Kill It, Eat It”, and “Damn Red Dot”. Now that I’m older, I’m more drawn to purr music like, “Find Some Sunshine”, “Let’s Cuddle Together”, and “Don’t Touch Me, I’m Sleeping”. Of course, the Floofies had a big hit with “The Sound of Kibble”. I always like it. I can’t go wrong with Stray Floofs and their huge hit, “Hungry Again, Feed Me”, either. Oh, and “Meow Now” by Kittahn would be an excellent song for today.
The can opener is reading over my shoulder. He told me that since I’m typing for him, I need to have human music. Like that stuff they listen to is music. Dog songs sound better than that human crap.
He said that his neurons (whatever they are) suggested “Honky Cat” by Elton John, even though he’s done it before. He’s drinking that hot, smelly, black water that he likes to sip. I’ve smelled it and can tell you that it’s not worth it, but that’s me. He said that he used “Honky Cat” three years ago but that it would be okay. I don’t care. I’m ready for a nap.
Here’s that music. Meow.
A Traveling Dream
The beginning was chaotic. My wife and I were younger people. She had a girlfriend staying with us, no one knew from RL. We also had a small brown puppy on a red leash, a very smart dog.
She and her friend were trying to start a business. As I wasn’t involved, the details are scant to me. I was busy fixing things around the house, working in bathroom pipes around the sink and tub, then dashing over to work on the computer, helping my wife and her friend with their computer and the printer. All the time, the puppy follows me around and I talk to you. My wife will sometimes say, “Oh, no, where is the puppy,” because the puppy isn’t where she left him. “Relax,” I answer, “he’s right here beside me.”
Wife makes a tentative decision. Someone is interested in their business but they have to go meet them, which is a five-hour drive away. Will I take her? We jockey back and forth in the conversation, we me explaining that I don’t want to stay overnight because we have the puppy and there are things I must do, followed up by asking her, are you staying the night? How long will you be there?
She’s anxious with excitement, indecisive and scattered, frustrating me. I finally force the issue: I’ll drive you up and then return tonight. I’ll be driving ten hours. A neighbor comes and takes the puppy.
Then we’re in a car on a highway. I’m driving. I’m in the right-hand land of this divided highway, behind a car. The car is slowing. There’s a motorcycle in the left-hand lane but they’re several hundred yards back. I want to change lanes but the car in front of me is suddenly slowing. Checking my driver-side mirror, I discover that the motorcycle has caught up. I accelerate a little, create space, and change lanes.
That lane is now also slowing by a tremendous amount. What’s going on? I wonder, trying to see what’s ahead. First, we’re no longer on concrete; we’re on a soft dirt path. There are construction signs. The road is being worked on. Everyone, including us, is on foot, following one another like we’re cars.
We’re slowing. Ahead is a vertical pipe. We must climb up that. I’m carrying all of my wife’s luggage plus some long, heavy metal thing. I realize that I’d need to climb without using my hands. My wife and her friend anxiously watch, waiting for my decision about what I’ll do.
I realize, nobody else is carrying anything. They left it in their vehicle. Why didn’t we do that? I intuit that the construction people will transport the cars up to the other end of the pipe. This infuriates me; why do we need to leave our car at all? Why can’t they just transport the cars with us in it?
“Come on,” I tell the others. “We’re going back to the car.” I figure that there must be another way.
We’re back in the car. I drive fast in the opposite direction. There’s a detour sign on my left. I turn the car that way even though my wife wants to stop and think it over. We’re suddenly at our destination. “I knew it,” I crow, pleased.
The Writing Moment
As he edited, he was reading others’ fiction. More than once, reading a chapter or two (they were small chapters) of This Is How You Lose the Time War prompted him to steal back to his computer and resume his editing. It made up a perfect sequence of hours, reading, writing, editing, drinking coffee, and snacking.
Tuesday’s Wandering Thought
Tuesday found another tech irritation gaining momentum. Apps and search boxes always tried finishing his typing for him. They were often wrong and usually a distraction. Almost as bad was when he shoved his mouse aside to clear a view of what he was typing, only to have the cursor land on something else, amplifying whatever was in that box, whether he was interested or not. The pages were just messy with annoying ‘helpful’ distractions.
