The Toes & Elephant Dream

I was at some kind of crowded business where I was – again – a young man.

Nobody familiar was with me at that point. A hectic atmosphere surrounded me as people rushed around, doing things.

I was rushing, too. I’d just sealed an envelope. I needed postage to mail it. I stepped up to the postage area as a young woman finished using it. Fumbling through what to do, I pressed buttons to get stamps. Streams of paper spewed out. I thought, are those stamps?

No, I saw, those were someone’s receipts. That woman was gone and I was in a hurry, and others were waiting, so I tossed those aside. Now – ah, I needed to weigh my letter. That done, the machine asked for payment. I pulled out a credit card and tapped it against the machine, amused that I’m using a credit card to pay for a stamp, but that was quickest and easiest

That done, I crossed the wooden floor past knots of people. My wife was sitting on the floor. Beside her was a young French woman I’d previously noticed. Short, she had curly short brown hair. I was barefoot, and so was the woman.

I spoke with them briefly, then went off to get something. Jumping up, the French woman offered to join me, which pleased and flattered me. We crossed the wooden floor again.

I spotted a small fuzzy creature crawling across the floor. Thinking it was a kitten, because I knew there was a clowder of kittens in the room, I picked it up.

It was a small pink elephant with gray ears and a gray belly. So small that it fit easily into my palm, it put up its trunk and released a squeaky trumpet. I talked to it, reassuring it that I didn’t mean it any harm, telling it, “I’m going to put you back to where you belong,” which was some kind of baskets with towels on the floor.

After doing that, the French woman pushed her toes up against my toes and gave me a flirty smile. Grinning, I told her, “You have beautiful toes.”

The dream ended.

Sunday’s Theme Music — Money in Our Pockets

Ashland, southern Oregon — Sunday, October 18, 2026.

It’s totes autumn today, with rich fall foliage decorating trees with red, gold, orange, and yellow leaves burying the greens. Sun is up, delivering tepid temperatures, putting us at 60 F right now. 72 F is in the future for the valley and its blue sky.

Nothing from Mom today, and I only recall one dream. It was another military-themed dream where my hair was out of reg.

Today’s music is by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. The song, “Thrift Shop”, was released in 2012. My Neurons released it into the morning mental music stream as I read political news. Donald Trump is running on nothing but fear, trying to convince everyone that absolutely everthing will be much, much worse under Democrats. Republicans are pouring money into the 2026 midterm elections. So is Elon Musk, which should tell you how worried Trump and the GOP are at this point.

Trump has already tried buying votes. Donald Trump has offered seven different dividends or financial incentives for supporting him while crowing about how great everything is. Trump claims we’re in a new golden age in the United States.

But the actual numbers for most Americans show a completely different story. Compared to when Trump took office, most ordinary expense has increased for the majority of Americans.

  • Residential electric rates have steadily outpaced core consumer inflation. National averages climbed from roughly 17.5¢/kWh in 2025 to 18.31¢ – 18.83¢/kWh.
  • Grocery store inflation has significantly dropped down to 1.8% year-over-year. Heavy deflation in specific categories like eggs (-22.2%) has lightened the financial load for food, households are still facing steep localized spikes on beef (+9.4%) and coffee (+6.1%).

    Individuals purchasing coverage via the Affordable Care Act (ACA) Marketplace saw a premium spike of 20% to 30% following the structural expiration of enhanced federal premium tax credits.This increase is directly attributed to Donald Trump’s signature act of 2025, the One Big Beautiful Bill Act.

  • Gas prices are way up, as almost every driver can tell you. After averaging around $3.22 to $3.40 per gallon in 2025, national regular fuel prices rose above the $4.00 mark for historic stretches, peaking as high as $4.79 in May 2026 before leveling out to $4.33 – $4.47 per gallon. Most of these increases are tied to the war in Iran which Trump started in February, 2026, and the war in Ukraine, which Trump promised to end on day 1 of his second term.

It’s not surprising after noticing these price increases that “Thrift Shop” is playing in my morning mental music stream. Trump crows about how great things are but most people are worrying about how much money they have. Personal bankruptcies are up. Personal savings are down.

So. Much. Winning. For Donald Trump and his wealthy cohorts, like Elon Musk. They’re much, much wealthier now than they were before Trump took office in 2025.

May money worries leave you alone to enjoy the day, no matter who you’re with or what you’re doing.

Cheers

Two Dreams about People

In the first dream, I was a younger adult, working somewhere that wasn’t clearly defined. I seemed happy and was busy working when a trio – two men and a woman – arrived.

The woman started chatting to me. I didn’t even realize she was with the men. Then the men approached. One mentioned something about Major Malasky.

I whirled with surprise. The men were short, white, with trim hair. Clean shaves, they were dark gray suits, white shirts with dark, narrow ties, and dark gray fedoras. Like G men.

“I knew a Major Ray Malasky,” I said. “We worked together. He was a navigator. 7405th in Germany. We were a covert unit.” I chuckled, knowing, yes, the program had been declassified but still uncomfortable talking about it. “Ray was a good guy.”

I looked around for mementos from that assignment. I’d just been showing them with the woman, I realized – and they were gone. Surprised, I leaped to the conclusion that she had taken them and began searching for her. As I did, the two men excused themselves and left. Going to a window, I saw them meet her. The three hurried away, leaving me astonished.

In the next dream, I was walking along a street on a sidewalk. It was a sunny, pleasant day. A bright red car was ahead. This was boxy shaped like the Kia Soul or the Honda Element, but it was bright, shiny red with small wheels. It also had a round window on the driver’s door.

The window was pivoted open. As I walked towards it, I saw that someone was inside the car. They reached up and closed the round driver’s window. I then saw it was one of my real-life current neighbors, Neil. Seeing me, he opened the window but stayed reclined, though he did nod at me.

I nodded back. I had the impression he was resting and wondered why he was resting in his car. I figured that Neil must have a reason for being out of his house. Maybe his house was being worked on. Painted. Or they were fumigating it. Who knows?

I accepted that there was a reason for him to be resting in his car and walked on.

The Fours Dream

I was a young middle-aged man again. Several people who worked for me in the military and at IBM were working for me again. I was setting them up with some kind of project. Terry, Gil, and Lainie were at a round table. I stopped by to provide more instructions.

For some reason, I ended up asking Lainie if she knew her fours table because she had to use them for some task I was setting up. She was hesitant. Knowing she’s often hesitant because of self-doubt, I began quizzing her – what 7 * 4? She didn’t know, so I tried, what’s 3 * 4? She correctly but slowly responded, twelve, with a shy smile.

Encouraging her, I then asked, what’s 4 * 4?

She wasn’t sure. Terry responded, 16.

I began going through the fours table with Lainie with the others sitting there. As we did, she made wrong guesses about the numbers, sometimes saying numbers that ended in three or five. I told her that the result would always be even, and that it would end in a 2-4-6-8 or zero. I then began taking her through the table and went from 1 * 4 to 200 * 4, pointing out the repetitive pattern in the results.

Everyone grew quiet, listening as I went through the times table. When I finished, Terry and others said, “I never knew that about the pattern.”

I replied, “There’s a pattern to everything. Always look for the pattern. If you can find that, many other things fall into place.”

Dream end

Survival Mode Dream

I was part of a military unit. A light colonel – a commander from my real life – led us. Something disastrous had happened, and we’d shifted into holding on, bracing for attacks and problems. Food, water, and fuel were all issues.

Second in command, we had a dozen people. All were much younger than the commander and me. The weather seemed consistently dark and cloudy. Rain was often falling.

I started out required to make suggestions to the commander. He then agreed or not, and gave orders. My suggestions were about needing shifts,  requiring everyone to collect and bring food, man the place and keep watch.

We arrived back in the morning as scheduled. Still a dark, rainy day. Part of our structure was gone. I suggested to the commander, maybe we should move our people inside the rest of the structure, to get us out of the rain.

“No,” he said. “Put them on the covered porch.”

I ordered that, but saw at that point that my commander had recognized that I was thinking about things. Touching my shoulder, he told me, “Supervise them. Get them set up and ready.”

I agreed. We had an engine. It ran a generator which gave us electricity. I’d seen the commander add oil to it the previous day. I went to the engine to do the same. The way he’d done it before didn’t make sense with what I saw. This was a Chevy V8, and it was running. I knew it was important to keep the engine running. The engine steamed as rain drops hit.

I checked fluid levels. Gas, oil, etc., were all topped off. I worried that I was overlooking something and decided, I didn’t know enough about how the engine worked. I needed to learn more.

People reported in to work, bringing food and water with them, including doughnuts. Thanking the people for them, I ordered the doughnuts to be shared, encouraging everyone to eat.

Reports came in – I’m not sure of the mechanism – that enemy forces weren’t far off. I directed people to take positions as lookouts. Someone asked if we should launch a drone.

I knew we had a drone but we also had a plane. I directed that both be launched.

They were launched but we weren’t getting images from other. I went outside to see where they were in the sky, which had turned apricot but was marbled with gray and black. Craning my head back, holding my hat on, I couldn’t see the plane or drone.

My commander asked me what I was doing. I told him, and he replied, “Good idea.” Others came out to also look. None of us could see either aircraft.

“I think the enemy destroyed them,” I said with worry.

The situation is getting grim, I thought.

Dream end.

Monday’s Theme Music — Words

Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, October 5, 2026.

Another summery autumn day was upon us, high 80s, thin clouds, blue sky, sun.

Last night’s dream was a short, weird one. My wife has been blowing her nose a lot yesterday, complaining, “I have one nostril which seems like a leaky faucet.” I ended up dreaming that she was blowing her nose. Her snot was coming out like yellow mustard. I then blew my nose in the dream; my tissue ended up looking like a slice of white bread thickly slathered with yellow mustard. I went into the other room and showed her, saying, “I have what you have.”

Had my first BCG wash today. Wasn’t ‘quite’ like I expected in some ways but was otherwise exactly as I expected.

The BCG wash is why I’m late posting today. Had to be there at 1:40. Doing the math, I needed to leave at 1:10. Before leaving, I wanted a three-hour writing session so that needed to begin at 10:10 AM. Ergo, leave the house by ten, which means getting dressed, getting up, getting routines done, etc.

Other things happening threw off that timing. But I was finally there, preparing for the BCG. One thing I immediately noticed was how different it is in medical offices and dentist offices. At the dentist, they provide a picture for you to look at while things are being done to you. Music is playing.

Not so at the medical offices. It’s all medical function, like you, the patient, are barely considered.

I had a good tech and a good nurse, Nurse Chrissy C, who did my procedure. I was told to strip off my pants and underwear, then sat in a chair. A large paper, like a giant paper towel, was spread across me for modesty. A foot rest was raised and the back was leaned back, kind of like a barber’s chair. Then they pulled the paper back and began doing things to my wee willie winkle.

Hibiclense was employed to wash my genitals. Lidocaine was injected to numb my pecker. Brrrr, cold. The tech left and the nurse entered. She explained that they only get two vials of the almost dead tuberculosis bacilli a week and it must be immediately used once it’s mixed. Each vial can be used for three treatments, so three of us are done in parallel at the same time.

I surmised something like that was going on because two other people were called simultaneously at my appointment time. One of these people was a teenager, and the other was a heavy woman in a wheelchair with one foot in a walking boot.

My narrow urethra cropped up, of course. The foley catheter wasn’t going in. “Breath deep and cough for me,” the nurse ordered, which I did multiple times. I explained about my previous experiences with catheters, my narrow urethra, and the kink that vexes everything partway through it.

She got it in, though, pumped out my urine, and then filled it with the treatment. Then I was free to clean up, dress and leave. “Don’t urinate for one to three hours,” she said. Only problem was I was already ready to go — with a bowel movement. Yikes.

Here we go again with Donald Trump. After trying to change voting by mail and raging that it’s ‘inherently corrupt’, Trump has spun 180 degrees.

Trump urges supporters to vote by mail despite fraud claims

Donald J Trump added a bitter word salad to explain his new position:

“They can vote by mail if they want, because we seem to have no choice because a lot of people want to vote by mail, but a lot of very good people also want to vote in-person. You can do either.”

I had “Word Up” playing in my morning mental music stream after seeing some video about Donald Trump making a speech. After that speech, he did that smug, mind-smothering dance of his. That triggered The Neurons into making a connection with “Word Up”.

Sample Lyrics

Wave your hands in the air
Like you don’t care
Glide by the People as they start to look and stare
Do your dance, do your dance, do your dance quick

And that was the connection between what I saw Trump doing — dancing like he doesn’t care, making his MAGAts laugh because he’s one of them — and the 1986 song by Cameo.

The Festival Dream

Young again, as it often happens in my dreams, my wife and I were at a three-day festival. We knew a few people there casually, but most were strangers. We were making acquaintances, though.

I’m not sure what the festival was about. It was partly outside and inside, on different levels, but was very easy to get around. Some areas were set up with drinks and other areas had food, dancing, and demonstrations.

After wandering around some, my wife and I went to explore different things. I ended up in the company of a young charismatic man with thick, dark curly hair. He was the de facto leader of a social group there and invited me to be part of that group. I had a lot of fun with them.

Then there was a quiet time for resting. He invited me to find them the next day. I ended up borrowing his car. First, it was a silver blue. Then, it was red. Both times, it was a small car, convertible and sporty but nothing familiar. Yet, with the second car, I thought that I remembered them. Very red and small, it still seated four. I recalled that a panel could be put over the rear seats to give the car a racier look, but that could be removed for seating, which I thought was clever.

I drove the car a bit but had trouble parking it. Misjudging an angle when I turned into the garage, I had to wait until people walked around the back of the car before I could reverse, widen my approach, and park in the space.

After that, I began to drift through the festival, eyes open for my wife or my new friends. I ran into my wife. We talked for a moment but she went on.

The festival was thinning out. A woman who had been with my wife approached me as I looked at a menu board. She asked if I wanted something. Her way of talking confused me and I politely declined and walked away. She re-approached with a large bag of potato chips. Giving them to me, she lectured me a little, telling me that I should accept offers when they’re given. Then she finished, “We Americans need to stick together and help each other.”

She seemed to indicate that we were the only Americans at the festival. Her remark confused me. I came across my wife again and offered her some chips. She declined and went off again. I gave the chips to someone else and went to watch a demonstration of fire department teams showing their skills doing different things.

One woman led a team. She was very impressive with how she went about rolling hoses, wielding axes, and other things. Growing drowsy, I laid down to watch her from a platform. Others were there. I could hear them talking about the same woman who impressed me. After a bit, one of the other people jostled me. Faking indignation, I turned around and demanded to know who was disturbing my sleep.

I was surprised. It was my sister. She was her ‘real age’, that is the age she is now. Her youngest son, also in his current age, was with her, along with a few other people who I didn’t know.

I was now my real age. Telling them, “I’ll see you later,” I decided it was time to leave the festival and went off into a large warehouse lit with yellow lights to find my wife. Behind me, I heard my nephew say, “That’s how he is. Watch, he won’t be back.”

Dream end.

Two Dreams

I remember two dreams from last night but only snippets from a third. Here’s what I recall about the two.

First, there was a writing dream. A young man again, I was in my early twenties.

I love how my dreams often make me younger. *smile*

I was sitting with my wife at a low, light gray counter. She was on my right. To my left was a young girl, white with long brown hair. I think she was about 12. Nobody I knew.

In front of me on the counter was a yellow legal pad. A male voice outside of my dream frame was suggesting that I write a book about writing fiction.

I was laughing and denigrating the idea. “I’ve had a couple short stories published, and I self-published a few books,” I rebutted. “That’s not really a good position as someone giving writing advice.”

But as I was talking, I was scribbling ideas on the yellow pad. Using a red pen, I wrote down four columns.

My wife said, “I think you should.”

And the out of dream voice said, “The girl will type it up for you.”

And the girl was saying, “I’m bored. Is there anything for me to type?”

That all made me laugh harder. On the yellow pad, I jotted down ideas in the four columns as I laughed.

Dream end

The Race Dream

I was in some coastal area with my wife and some friends. (The friends weren’t anyone from real life.)

A storm was coming in from the ocean, building up. The winds were growing higher, and the surf was rising and becoming more violent.

But a race was being held in the water. I don’t know what distance was involved but people could parasail, surf, bicycle, swim, or run to win. The race would go along the coastline.

I had a friend there with a saddled brown horse (with a black mane and tail) and several young children. The friend BTW looked like a young Viggo Mortensen. The children were begging him to enter the race. He was uncertain but they talked him into it. So he climbed into the saddle. After pulling the two children up onto the saddle with him, he urged the horse forward to join the race.

I watched, amused and also wondering, “Is that safe?” I saw that the surf was much worse than I thought it was. I was considering how he would do this, envisioning the horse galloping sometimes through waves breaking on the shore, but mostly urging the horse along on the firm, wet sound just above the water line.

I heard people mocking my friend, “Oh, look, here’s another one who doesn’t know how to surf.”

The starting gun went off and the race began. I watched as the racers went south, through the crashing waves, as sunlight broke through thinning gray storm clouds.

Knowing the race would be away, I went to the house where we were staying. This was actually a large, lovely terra cotta mansion. I was standing out there, having drinks with friends and my wife. It was a small group. Two of the friends were from my childhood, and two were adult friends.

One childhood friend asked, “Why did they call you the professor when you were young.”

I laughed it off. “Probably because I read a lot and had to wear glasses.”

My wife said, “No, it was because you were smart.”

My other childhood friend said it was because I always got good grades.

As we were talking, I noticed a blonde teenage girl standing off to one side, listening. I realized that she was going to back and tell her friends about this conversation.

Turning, and shifting angles, I found a view of the ocean. The race was still going on. I saw about forty competitors and thought I spotted my friend on horseback but wasn’t sure.

Dream end

A Travel Dream

My wife and I were traveling together. Young adults, I’m in the military again.

We were traveling to some fancy do. Although the details of that weren’t shared in the dream, we were pretty excited.

We arrived at some huge airport. She went off to do something. I wandered, and then drifted into an aircrew lounge. People went to block me from entering, but the officers in there recognized me and invited me in. At least a dozen friends from my Air Force life, pilots and navigators, were in there.

Settling in with them, I watched a baseball game on television for a while. When I saw the score, I asked, “When did this happen?”

Leaving there, I went to find my wife. We connected. I was now carrying her formal gown along with my dress uniform. I realized our flight was supposed to be boarding. On the heels of that, I thought, we need to be in the military terminal. I ran out into the growing wet dusk to hurry there. Where my wife was and why she wasn’t with me was completely overlooked in the dream. As I looked down the airport tarmac, I decided that the military terminal was too far inside and raced back inside

Connecting with my wife again, we hurried to board. Somehow, we boarded through the aircraft’s rear. So we were onboard but didn’t have seats.

The aircraft’s interior was like a large building with stairs, lounges, little sitting areas, etc. I looked for staff to help us find a seat, which was odd as we were passing orange seats that weren’t occupied, but couldn’t find help.

My wife said, “We need to get to the wide part. How do we get to the wide part?”

Looking around at the tall ceilings and seating areas, I mused, “This all looks pretty wide to me.”

Dream end

Dark, Chaotic Dream

The dream was dark, chaotic, and brief.

I was somewhere as a young adult, long-haired, with a reddish black background. I was busy and others were there, but I have no idea what was going on. At the same time, I seemed to be optimistic and productive.

Then I saw trees and knew – time to change clothes. Next I knew, I was naked and a torrent of water was carrying me down a street. Yes, I knew: this was how I always changed.

That same sequence repeated itself again.

On the third time, the water was much higher and faster. I reminded myself, “This is how I always change clothes.” But this was frothier and far wider. Gray light appeared in the sky as daylight trickled in. Gray clouds were visible. My river ride grow steeper.

Becoming worried, I noticed trees to my left. I’ll just stir myself that way, I told myself, and grab branches as I go by, to slow myself.

The dream ended as I put my arms out and turned.

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