In the first, I was editing/revising my manuscript, Unfocused. I awoke confused whether I’d been awake or asleep. Falling back asleep, I experienced the novel as a movie.
Another microdream slipped in. I reached for a green glass tumbler which had water in it. When I tasted it, it was coffee, but it stayed clear.
A man asked me to marry him. Then I thought it was me asking him. Then I thought, I’m both men.
Then I ate a chocolate chip muffin from a tray. Finishing it, I wanted more.
Rainy and 46, sunshine washes our house’s eastern side. Today’s high will be in the mid 50s and the low will drop to 32-35 F.
Mom and sis had a ‘good outing’ yesterday although in retrospect, my sister suspected Mom was trying to manipulate her. After the pharmacy run and Urgent care, Mom asked sis if they could drive by the house. Gina agreed but warned that they weren’t going in. Conversation ensued about how livable the house was but Gina told Mom that she didn’t think Mom could live there alone. Mom remarked that she needed some short-sleeved summer tops. Gina brushed it off but later thought that Mom was trying to get them into the house. We’re sure that if Mom had gotten in there, she would have refused to leave.
UTI was confirmed for Mom, along with blood in her urine. No word on further tests, yet.
I read good news yesterday on Diane Ravitch’s blog. A Federal judge ordered work on the Trump ballroom stopped. The judge questioned whether Trump had the authority to make the changes he was doing. Her second piece of reported good news from last week in that post, “A federal judge ruled on Tuesday that President Trump’s executive order barring the federal funding of NPR and PBS violated the First Amendment.”
Victories for We the People. We know that these decisions will be appealed to a higher court.
Over in the Supreme Court, we’re waiting to see if Trump’s executive order dicing up birthright citizenship and the 14th Amendment is judged legal. Trump attended the proceedings for a bit but left. I’m surprised he stayed awake.
Trump is giving a speech today about the Trump Iran War and about the US leaving NATO. He continues to send my WTF meter spinning with his consistent inconsistency. I suspect this is another ruse to distract from the Epstein files. The war is unpopular, though, and Trump’s approval ratings are showing it.
I also appreciated Paul Krugman’s post about the psychology of military incompetence and Pete Hegseth. I gleefully agree with Krugman: Hegseth is in over his head. Unfortunately, that doesn’t bode well for the safety of our nation or the lives of our people swearing to defend it.
I had a swarm of microdreams last night. When I sat and scribbled what I remembered, The Neurons played “I Got You” in the morning mental music stream. The Split Enz song was a 1980 hit. Reminds me a bit of the Cars. I’m not sure how it related to my thinking, though.
I hope the day goes well for you, no matter what you face or what the news brings.
We’re looking at a rainy spring day in our valley. Sunshine is on the low side as clouds gather and darken. It’s 49 F with anticipation that we’ll peak in the low sixties today.
Out early to do our monthly Food & Friends delivery, we’re back now and into our daily grooves. Our F&F route was small again, with several favorite regulars missing. We always what’s happened to them and hope for the best.
I had a rush of micro-dreams last night. All of them felt very uplifting. Seeing and remembering them was like watching a strobe light on a crowd of dancers.
Mom remains quiet today but she’s on our minds as my sisters and I exchanged texts about her, remembering her, wondering what’s next. We spent a bit of time remembering Mom and Frank together. They used to love going dancing and to estate sales, or the grands’ concerts and ball games.
They were a sweet couple, but Mom’s illnesses, accidents, aging, and medications changed her.
Trump has also been on my Monday morning mind. I’ve been wondering, what’s next? Tariffs, ICE, Iran War, ballroom, Epstein files, general BS — what’s next?
Trump wants to start signing the currency. The GOP is proposing to issue a 250th Anniversary coin that will feature Trump’s pudgy scowl. Look others, I plan to Sharpie his signature if that comes to pass. I also agree with the premise that the only currency Trump’s face should grace is a wooden nickel or fake funny money.
Stevie Nicks wrote today’s song, “Dreams”. It was a hit for Fleetwood Mac and a personal favorite. Slow moving like a thunderstorm, it’s reflective words and sound carries me into different moods and thoughts. It’s also a song about loss, too, mourning what was and what is now. That’s no doubt why Les Neurons put it into the morning mental music stream.
I took to a different video for it, finding this lovely acoustic version on “Playing for Change”. I hope you enjoy it.
Let’s hope peace and grace arrive and help us all to improved lives.
I hope you have your protesting clothes on and are ready to step out to join the millions telling Trump and the world what we think of Trump.
It’s beautiful protesting weather here today, 46 F but expected to climb into the low to mid-seventies with sunshine and blue skies.
I read about the TACO Index today. It’s a beautiful attempt to understand and track what Trump is doing to the financial markets. Here’s an explanation from the France 24 article to explain it:
‘The “TACO” index uses four factors to measure negative impacts and evaluate the probability that Trump will change his opinion.
‘These are: one-year inflation expectations, changes in Trump’s approval ratings in the month prior, the performance of the S&P 500 stock market index (which tracks stocks from the 500 leading Wall Street companies) and the evolution of US Treasury yields (interest rates that the government pays to borrow money).
‘“These are factors that stock market analysts were already examining separately, so it makes sense to combine them into a single index to assess the level of political and economic pain that Donald Trump is likely to be able to withstand,” says Alexandre Baradez, an analyst for the broker IG France.’
It’s funny but sad. Funny, because it acknowledges Trump’s wrecking ball impact on the world. Sad that we’ve reached a stage after 250 years in existence that the United States has put such a disastrous human in charge.
It is especially sad that voters chose to do this because Trump a much more intelligent, organized, and capable person, Kamala Harris. Voters didn’t vote for her because she’s a woman, a person of color, or from California. They didn’t vote for her because they wanted ‘change’. They didn’t vote for her because IMMIGRANTS! They didn’t vote for her because they didn’t think her well-documented plans and policies were better than Trump’s promises and mocking.
Now we are at war in Iran, our allies are distancing themselves from us, and prices are on the rise. Good thinking, Trump voters.
The Roberts Court partially rejected Trump’s tariffs. His administration has been ordered to pay refunds. That in itself is a monumental task, costing us yet more millions.
Mom is pretty quiet this morning, as our my sisters. She told one sister last week that she is mean and Mom was through with her; today, Mom told that sister to have her husband pick Mom up at the assisted living facility to take her home.
Had some terrific, humorous dreams last night. Yet, I ended up with Golden Earring playing “Twilight Zone” in my morning mental music stream. The song is about consequences and results. I can only guess that The Neurons are playing this song in my head today because of the joint streams of Mom and Trump.
Here we go. Have a pleasant Saturday of peace, grace, and political engagement.
I was packing all my personal goods up. Part of that was a lot of money, which I and arranged in boxes, cases, bags, and scheduled it to be picked up and taken east.
That done, I sought transportation for myself. I found a bus and bought tickets. Inside were blue seats. I found an open seat and sat. The bus’s seating reminded me more of a widebody jet, except, I saw, it was arranged in a star pattern. Either way, I thought it unusual for a bus and too big.
A crotchety woman was managing the passengers. She announced our itinerary. We were in Maine, heading for New York!
That was wrong! I was supposed to be on the west coast, going east. That’s where I packed my stuff.
Now I worried about my stuff. Had I sent it in the wrong direction?
Then I worried about all that money I’d packed away, fretting that somebody might steal it. I shouldn’t have left it like that, and I should have brought more with me.
A young dark-haired woman in red clothing was in the seat next to me. I recognized her but she apparently didn’t remember me. I played a sly little game, ‘guessing’ things about her because I knew her. She was amazed by how I correctly guessed.
They announced we were in New York and would have a rest stop. The crotchety woman came around serving us slices of pie. I took two pieces and passed them on to other passengers, then ate the third piece. It seemed like some kind of runny custard pie. I didn’t care much for the filling so I only ate the crust.
We arrived at our destination. I don’t know where it was but began looking for my stuff, anxious about how much of it I’d find there. Several of my bags were discovered. Inside them were bundles of cash. I gave some to another traveler because they needed help.
The dream ended as I was walking toward a building, finding and picking up more of my bags.
39 F and the heater is on. Blue skies and sunshine dominate, and we’re expected to reach the mid to upper 70s today.
Mom dominated thoughts and energy yesterday, and this morning, so far. My sisters began texting about three hours ago and are still going at it. There’s a lot of dark humor in today’s text, though. Mom once told one of her husbands that if they made a television show of our family, it would be “Combat!” A sister replied, “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”. Yes, I answered, and there’s our issue: Mom sees one thing and we see another.
Gina took supplies to Mom this morning but didn’t talk with her. Gina reports that she thought she saw a staff member spotted her entering the building and hurried away.
I’m fuming over Trump news. First, he voted by mail in Florida’s elections, which is something he’s trying to do away with. It just leaves me incredulous. But when asked about it, he said, “I’m president.”
Bingo. That is his response to everything. He sees a different standard for himself, and by extension, his people. Voting by mail, okay for him — bad for everyone else.
He exercises an infuriating double standard. With the GOP’s help, and SCOTUS, he’s made a mockery of the office and what it’s supposed to be, a servant of the people. He clearly sees it the other way, as is evident by his behavior and policies.
Now he’s putting his signature on the money, adding to where his name shows up in the nation. It’s all about him.
We see it, too, in the war with Iran. “They gave me a very nice gift”. The gift was letting supposedly Iran letting tankers through the Strait of Hormuz.
Not a gift to him, except in his ego-crazed mind.
And he’ll end the war “when he feels it in his bones”. Not about the war and its objectives, the nation, or even Iran; it’s about him.
Oddly, The Neurons provided me with a song that goes in a different direction in the morning mental music stream. Although I recall several dreams — one involving collecting diamonds and another about traveling and eating pie — I have George Harrison singing “What Is Life”. My subconscious might be feeding off those opening lines, “What I feel, I can’t say.”
I can’t say. *smile*
May your day progress with peace, grace, and happiness. See you at the protests tomorrow, Saturday, March 28, 2026.
I was at a very crowded camp. We were outside. Lot of activity going on, including food and drink being served, and eating. I was not alone but with a group of friends and casual acquaintances, but it seemed to change throughout the dream.
Two parts retain clarity. One, I was drinking red wine in goblets. Almost everyone was, so it was challenging to track what drink belonged to who. Two, a group of Black friends were talking about movies and books. I’d not heard of either one.
One showed me a book. It was thin children’s book. I think it was called Riverrun City. When he showed me the cover, it showed brown cartoon bears moving across it. I thought I’d heard of the book but admitted I’d not read it. I made promises to try to do so as they encouraged me.
I went back to get my glass of wine but couldn’t find it. I recalled that I’d just filled it and set it aside – out of the way – so nobody else would pick it up by accident. It wasn’t where I remembered I put it and thought, I either mis-remembered, or someone moved it.
I spotted another glass at a different location. It could be mine, but I wasn’t sure. I walked around looking but also understood, how the hell am I supposed to know what glass is ‘mine’? They all looked alike.
I went back to that one which ‘might’ be mine. There seemed to be brown fibers floating in it. I tasted it; it tasted like tobacco juice.
Arriving at where I needed and expected to be – which was never fully realized but was full of busy people – I found the people I work with/for were gone! Worse, I didn’t have the clothing or office equipment like computers and phones which I required.
Tense seconds were spent cursing and thinking. Then, I knew that my team would have provided for me. I just needed to find that stuff.
Considering the environment, I didn’t see anywhere or anything obvious until I spotted a pallet of trash.
Yes, they would hide it there.
I pulled the top of the trash away. Below it was a large black plastic shipping bag. I tugged it out and opened it. Inside were materials marked with my name, including phone, laptop, clothing, and several folders containing information about my assignment and tickets for my trip.
Relieved, I dressed and began wending through the crowd, on my way again.
In my mid-twenties, I’d been somewhere, had a few drinks, went home. At home was an old girlfriend, visiting someone else, staying the night. Morning broke with sunshine through windows. I realized she was leaving and wanted to get up to say good-bye.
I could not move.
Paralyzed isn’t quite the word. I had no control. My limbs were flopping, weak, uncoordinated.
How did this happen? I kept asking myself. I didn’t much the night before, struggling to remember what I’d eaten, concluding, not much. I suspected someone had spiked my drink.
Thinking over the previous night, my memory pulled up a hypothetical scene where a man dropped something into my dream. I couldn’t guess his motivation and speculated he thought my drink belonged to someone else.
Then, damn – I’m late for work.
In the military again, I scrambled to find a clean uniform and shit, shower, shave.
Rushing out of the house, I headed for a train station and realized, I’m in Germany and I don’t know where I’m going. Nor did I speak the language.
There were long lines and a byzantine system of turns and steps. Putting together clues from what I saw others do, but screwing up, I sometimes got scolded – in German. I studied landmarks for more evidence about where I was, where I was going, then made it to work.
I was just a little late. Eventually I explained to the commander that I thought someone else had spiked my drink. He eagerly agreed, recapping my symptoms and then explaining the same thing happened to him the night before. That greatly relieved me, knowing someone else had gone this. I sensed that he felt the same.
I need to go somewhere else, they told me. Out in the system again, I tried putting pieces together to get to the right place and ended up going too far. Figuring that out, I backtracked until I found the right station. I realized we were sometimes going through people’s personal lands. They were very particular about what was permitted but sometimes changed it. For example, one old, white hair man opened up a door as a shortcut, apparently on a whim. An elderly gray-haired female chastised us when we considered using part of her walk as a shortcut.
Then it was time to go home. I had to figure out where to go, what to do, but fewer people were available. I had to figure it out on my own.
Cloudy and 39F outside, dry with a high of 52 F projected.
This post is mostly about me and Mom. Pings erupted in the middle of the night. Mom had launched a text blitz, and the sisters were sharing and discussing them. I read many and saw it basically as the same old, same old on every front. One sister had helped Mom by picking things up at her house; another had responded, telling Mom that she’d created this living situation mess.
Meanwhile, searching for info and thinking late last night, I hunted for more about Heritage Grove, the assisted living facility where Mom now lives. I found this photo on their Facebook page. That’s Mom, the 90 year-old in the front left in pink in the ‘drive’ wheelchair. She’d won a Snickers bar at bingo.
Returning to sleep after the text barrage was a challenge. I finally slept but awoke when I thought I heard a man saying, “There’s a fire.” There was no man there and the house was silent. I rose, though, and walked through the house, trying to see if I smelled smoke or saw sparks or flames. Then back to bed, back to sleep, but ended up getting up late. Just eating breakfast now, 10:30, two hours late. Bah, humbug.
While I was awake in the night, I thought about yesterday’s news.
Trump urges Australia to give Iran’s Asian Cup players asylum
The story quoted Trump saying on Truth social, “Australia is making a terrible humanitarian mistake by allowing the Iran National Woman’s Soccer team to be forced back to Iran, where they will most likely be killed.”
Damn it, the only people he’s fooling are his unthinking supporters and the uninformed. This is the same person who has Homeland Security and ICE rounding people up and sending them anywhere he could get away with sending them, without one damn thought about whether they’d be killed. In the process of rounding up people and shipping them out, people were actually and being killed. And Trump always, always blamed the victims, labeling them as domestic terrorists, criminals, or thugs.
The NYTimes headline was from last October. Since then, the Iranian government killed thousands of people. And, were any of those people Trump flew back to Iran in 2025 killed when Trump bombed them in 2026?
It all has me shaking my head.
Which carries me into theme song territory. The Neurons came up with “Helen Wheels.” To which I responded, what?
The Paul McCartney & Wings song is about Paul’s Land Rover and driving around. How did it fit into my mind?
Well, it hinged on two salient aspects: “Ain’t nobody else gonna know the way she feels.” And yep, that’s Mom and life with Mom at this point. It’s a mystery. And the other part is the long-sigh “bye buh” I feel toward what’s happening with Mom, especially with my sisters.
The upbeat song feels like it’s driving me forward, pulling me off the night’s inertia.
I hope your day is going well, wherever you are, whatever you doing. May peace and grace nestle up against your efforts and help you move forward.
Michael Seidel, writer 