The Waves Dream

I was in water, which seemed to be an ocean or sea. Others were in the water, which was a light aquamarine in color. An azure sky ruled. Waves licked and tumbled over flat, white, sandy beaches.

The warm water wasn’t up to my waist, but reached the bottom of my trunks, which were flowers on dark green. I soon noticed the water was rising. I couldn’t figure out why. Others didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just weren’t commenting. As the water rose over my waist, I decided to go ashore.

I found I couldn’t. The waves weren’t any more threatening but strong currents were dragging me further into the water. It was happening to everyone. All were struggling to keep from being taken out to sea.

I tried fighting the current and lost. Then I thought, maybe I could go with the current and then break free and return to land via another direction. I quickly learned that wasn’t feasible.

The water was up to my neck. It was warm and comfortable but frightening as I coped with a fear that I could drown. I tried again striking out for the shore but ended up with water up to my chin and splashing into my mouth.

I dove under. The water was darker and colder. I kicked out and then started using my arms, swimming underwater, taking whatever the currents let me. I wasn’t sure what direction I was going or where the land was. The water kept growing darker and colder.

I came free. I don’t know how or where. I suddenly found myself striding over volcanic rocks, sputtering water and gasping for air. I was on land but didn’t know how I’d made it. Looking back for the beach, I found it. The water was still that pleasant aquamarine with light waves, but darkening clouds had gathered overhead.

Dream end.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Neurons awoke me this morning with their BJ Thomas imitation of “Raindrops are falling on the roof.”

Yes, it’s Thursday, and it’s raining. Nada wrong with that; rain is needed here. Fingers crossed that it’ll mitigate the drought’s impact and the wildfire season. Yes, it’s a weird thing that we’re in a drought and it’s raining. It’s all about the water levels and earth’s moisture letels, I’m told.

Today is 4/28/2022. Sun drop will come at 8:07 PM. Clouds have won the day, smothering the sunshine with plush gray sheets. With the temperature now at 45 F, our high of 57 F isn’t far off. The sunrise, a thin mélange of gray light through the windows, was at 6:11 AM.

I’m in a funk today. It’s a regular thing. About every twenty-nine days I cycle into a dark place. I don’t stay there long, but I always need to be cognizant of when it’s come so I don’t act stupid, let angry emotions rule me, or walk away from things. Patience must be exercised as I wait to rise back out of it.

To help me, the neurons have dug up The Brothers Johnson playing “Get the Funk Out Ma Face” from 1976. I’m sure I learned this song from hearing it in the barracks when I was on an unaccompanied assignment to Clark AB in the Philippines. It’s stayed with me, a strong and defiant song.

Stay positive, test negative, and so on and so forth, as most of us have been trying to do. Coffee is now serenading my neurons, trying to lure me into the kitchen. I think it’s working. Have a better one.

Cheers

Perfloofla

Perfloofla (floofinition) – Shady spot, typically by or around pergolas, porches, or gazebos, where animals like resting out of the sun.

In use: “When the sun rose to its highest, hottest point, turning the outside into an air fryer, the cats and dogs all slipped into perflooflas by the bushes along the fence. Casey knew where to look for them to ensure they’re okay, peering out there to find each motionless furry form, reassuring himself that all was well with his floofies.”

A Dream of Nines

Although a military dream, the aspect of nines being repeated struck me more.

The perspective was interesting. I was up above the scene, looking down on everything, following ‘me’ around. I was in the military again, young again, a young NCO again, at a new command post again, and I was nervous. I knew an exercise was kicking off. I worried about being up to it. Being led around the console areas by a young, nervous officer, I was being shown dozens of things simultaneously. Several other controllers were already on duty, tracking aircraft, on the phones with the squadrons and theater headquarters, or on the radio with aircraft or ground operations. A lot was going on and I was a little dizzy with it.

Per standard procedure, the command post was a secure area. A cypher lock was on the door. I’d been given the combination and was walking around repeating it to myself as I took in everything. The numbers were six three one eight. I kept saying them to myself under my breath, “Six three one eight, six three one eight.” Meanwhile, others had come in, taking up positions up in the battle staff and over on the reports console.

Then, as I was listening to the officer, following him, repeating the numbers, I thought, six plus three equals nine. One plus eight equals nine. I looked at the clocks. The local time was almost six AM but it was almost nine PM GMT. The officer said, “It’s going to start at nine Zee.”

That’s nine Zulu, aka, nine GMT. I acknowledged that but thought, “Six plus three equals nine and one plus eight equals nine, and nine plus nine equal eighteen. If you break that down, one plus eight equals nine.”

Looking around, I realized, there were nine people in the sprawling command post now, including me. Then the officer said, “It’s nine Zee, time to begin.” Emergency Action lines began ringing. As controllers turned on the red lights, secured the console zone, and put the EAL on speaker, the officer looked at me and said, “Let’s get started.”

I replied, “Okay.”

Dream end.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Sounds have come tapping. Cue “It’s Raining Again” by Supertramp.

Light rain sporadically spits down on this Wednesday, the 27th of April, 2022. The temperature is at 44 F and a high of 60 is possible, they say. They also said it wouldn’t rain today.

Sunset is expected at 8:06 PM while sunrise came and went at 6:12 AM.

I have guitarist Joe Walsh with “Rocky Mountain Way” from 1973 cranking it out in the morning mental music stream. This one came out during a dream. I’d been startled awake by a cat checking to see if I was alive (“No, I was just sleeping, damn it”). The dream featured mountains, as my dreams frequently do. When I thought about those, the neurons hit the play button. Out came Walsh.

I’ve always enjoyed the song, playing it too often and too loud in my youth. It was a regular staple in high school art class as well as my part of my vinyl rotation at home and on 8 tracks in the car. Never got to see Walsh live in concert, except when he was with the Eagles on the Hell Freezes Over tour in 1994. The way I wrote that, it sounds like he died, but he’s still alive. I just checked. At least, that’s what the net claims.

Stay positive, test negative, etc. Can’t believe a Republican called for Dr. Fauci to face a shooting squad and be executed. Further, that said Republican was cheered by other Republicans. That party has lost its ever-lovin’ collective mind.

Here’s the music. If you guessed that I’m now going for coffee, give yourself a gold star. Cheers

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