Last night’s dream was a masterclass in chaos. Had a lot of fecal matter, too.
Backing up a little, I was again in the military, running some operations center. They’d been having issues there and I arrived to fix them. Which I immediately started doing, explaining it to the young airmen there. They began to understand what I was doing.
Weird thing was, the operations center wasn’t the classic secure and windowless, vaultlike facility where I usually worked during my military career. No, this place was part of some kind of large and busy convention center. People were coming and going. Loud, it was getting busier.
After arriving and doing some things at the ops center, I drifted out and changed clothes. Well, I basically took off everything except my underwear. Then I decided to go back to work to ensure everything was okay. To do that, I donned a short, furry pink robe that barely covered my rear end. Wearing only it and my undies, off I went to work.
Musicians were finishing a conference in the ops center, something which was entirely aligned with what I expected. Although they didn’t have instruments, I knew they were musicians, holding a meeting in the ops center conference room. I talked with them a bit, asking about how it had gone, small talk.
Others were impatiently waiting to use the conference room. I rushed around to get it ready for them but so many people were going in and out that I struggled to get anything done. Part of my cleaning was to check the commodes.
The first was out on a busy floor’s center. On carpet. No walls, no way to have privacy.
Which didn’t surprise me. Getting to the toile, I found – OMG, it was completely full with feces!
I was disgusted and angry. What was wrong with people that they kept using it when it obviously not working? How did they even do it? They would have had to squat over the toilet to avoid the piled crap.
I had no idea how to clean it out; there was no water, no way to use a plunger. I would need to shovel that shit out first. I was going to find someone else to do that, and that was an issue for later.
There was another toilet availab. I rushed to check it, confirm it was okay, and tell everyone to use it. But guess what? It, too, was stopped up. It at least had water and wasn’t as full but as soon as I put a plunger in, feces-filled water slopped out.
Nuts. Filling conspicuous in my short pink robe and bare white legs, I decided to go change before trying to fix this mess. Along the way, I ran into my superiors and gave them an update on the twin messes. Then I went on to change.
Young again, middle-aged, I was with my wife and others in this place with blue carpets. I don’t know why the others were present, but I was there to see a doctor. The doctor, young, White female, with, with short, dark hair, briefly saw me.
“You need surgery,” she said, indicating my neck. “We’ll do it today.”
That pleased me although I was surprised that my neck was to be operated on. I waited for the my scheduled time to arrive. I noticed the others began dressing up. My wife emerged wearing a dark suit with a white shirt. From overheard snippets, I realized that everyone else was waiting for surgery as well.
I was taken back; I’d not seen the doctor examine any of them. As people came out dressed up, the doctor began telling people when she would see them. Hastily I dressed like the rest, in a black suit with a white shirt and tie, but laughed at it as I did, thinking, this is silly.
Then – poof – the surgery was completed. I didn’t notice a thing but I knew it was done. It’d been so quick and simple, it was completed in an eyeblink.
I encountered my sister-in-law. She and I went off to await everyone else finishing off. I began helping some children drawing with crayons. I ended up with crayon on my white cuffs. While wondering how I was going to clean those off, my SIL showed up with a similar problem. I then took a paper towel and blotted the colors off. I shared what I was doing with her and she started doing the same.
We talked while we did that. I asked when she was going home and how long it would take her. Then I remembered that she lived in Florida. No, she answered with surprise. “I live just an hour and a half away. I’m taking my boyfriend’s train him.”
I hadn’t met her boyfriend but I knew of him. My wife arrived. She and I talked with my SIL and my wife and I announced that we would go get my SIL and her boyfriend some food for their trip home. We went out and bought very large sandwiches with French fries. We ate while we were there.
Then we rushed back to give them their food. They were already gone. We looked down the track to see a three-car train pulling away, which amused me and my wife.
We then needed to go deliver a package. I jumped into my car, a gorgeous and expensive Aston Martin roadster, green, with a white interior. I raced down the highway at very high speeds, overtaking many cars. Then, seeing a line of cars breaking, I slowed down and moved left.
Good thing I did, I told myself, as we overtook a long line of cars and trucks pulling travel trailers. They were stopped. I worried that we wouldn’t be able to mail my package.
Then I pulled up to a booth. Jumping out of the car with my package, I told him what I was doing. He was short, solemn, round Black guy. He listened and worked as I apologized for the state of my package and for not having it correctly prepared.
He shrugged that off, saying something like, “No problem.” I thought the packaging needed to be replaced. He consulted with a co-worker. They agree, it just needed a new clear plastic bag. He put that on, then grinned and told me, all down.
I laughed, surprised at how easy it went. Returning to my car, I prepared to drive away.
Young – again, probably in my early twenties – I arrived a classroom. I didn’t see much of it but was eager to be there. It was mostly about the teacher; I thought she had great things to teach me.
Other students were also arriving. We gravitated toward a large white table. It and the chairs around it seemed to be marble or cement. Not deterred, I was amused by that choice.
As I found a place to sit and organized my papers, a teacher arrived. Small, Mrs. Rubenstein from 8th grade social studies come to mind. I sat opposite her, ready to hear what she said but also excited at the opportunity to show her my work.
Smiling, she began talking but her cell phone interrupted. After taking the short call, she hung up. Apologizing, she collected her papers because she needed to leave and attend another matter that just came up.
Very dismayed, I slowly collected my papers and stood, unsure, should I stay or go? Seeing the other students, young like me, were in like ambivalence, I lingered. Then I thought, we can just stay and share our papers, and wait for the teacher to return. My impression was that she wouldn’t be gone long.
I suggested that to the rest. After a brief discussion, they agreed. Sitting, I got my papers out, then realized, there were thirteen students.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Friday, August 28, 2026.
Another cooler day graces our valley with temperatures rising from 70 now to the low 80s later, all Fahrenheit. Signs of autumn are creeping in beyond temperatures as maples are already shifting colors.
Mom finally responded late yesterday to tell me she’s feeling much better, a relief for my mind.
We did grocery shopping yesterday and then went out to see the lunar eclipse. Success, as I saw it twice, once in the evening, and again in the middle of the night. I took some tme to imagine how our ancient ancestors viewed these things. Cool and clear, being out under the stars, watching the moon felt rewarding.
Then it was a night of dreams and a morning of texts with my sisters. My sister, Gina, is going through all of Mom’s letters from Mom’s mother, and it’s a revealation. Gina photographs and texts the letters to us. I honestly don’t recognize many of the names my grandmother writes about. I never met those people and never heard about them.
Vee also visited last night and today. Vee is for visitor, but my wife calls the gray and white tabby because of the lining around the cat’s eyes.
Saw on the net that some are calling for Dolly Parton day. I support the idea. Dolly left a solid impression of what a good person can be. She’s someone worth celebrating and emulating.
Meanwhile, down on the other end of people and personalities, we have Donald Trump. Trump has established himself as Exhibit A in multiple categories of what They Tell Us Not to Be: a liar, greedy, womanizer, racist, hateful, sexist, hot tempered, and a bully. Besides showing poor math skills and cheating on contractors and wives, he craves attention and hates criticism.
This week, continuing to break norms, ignore treaties, and playing a wannabe dictator, Trump declared Lake Ontario would be known as Lake America.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Trump has half of what he says it takes, because people keep giving him pens.
Trying to rename Lake Ontario is another of Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions to me.
Continuing a year of failures, he has the mess at the White House, where he screwed up the lawn and demolished the East Wing for a ballroom. First he claimed that ballroom was ‘needed’. Then he said it was a monument for himself. Also, he kept insisting donors are paying for it. Then, oh, no, that ballroom is for national security.
Take his tariffs — please. Up and down, off and on, insisting how great they’re making the economy. But boom — unemployment is level but so is employment. More Americans should be working, and they’re not. Further, thanks to Trump, we have price increases, and a national debt that’s past $40 trillion for the first time in history. Way to go, Trump!
The national debt isn’t just Trump’s fault. The Spend Without End GOP shares a huge share of responsibility. They let Trump blow through money without employing any checks and balances. So long as Trump is in office and the GOP lets him get away with it, the national debt will worsen. Mind you, that’s despite Trump’s claims that he’s cut so much fraud and waste.
Part of that Republican spending spree is on the useless, unneeded war in Iran. Not only is it costing the world in terms of lives and energy, but it’s costing the United States in tangible and intangible ways. Tangibly, we, the world’s most powerful military, has managed to do little but kill people and blow things up. That’s largely because Trump attacked Iran with little planning and no tangible objectives.
On the more intangible side, other nations like China and Russia are noting how inept the military is under Trump, encouraging them to make moves with hard and soft power.
But Trump babbles on, and the GOP stands in line behind him.
What’s worse is the effect of the current situation. We have rising prices, rising bond rates, rising mortgage rates, flat unemployment, rising national debt, anemic job growth and the spectre of rising AI use. Stacked with Trump’s war in Iran, Trump’s erractic behavior and pronouncements, and the upcoming midterms, we’re facing a very uncertain future in the US.
Then add in climate and the expected super El Nino this winter, and brace yourself. This could be a wild roller-coaster ride.
With all this going on, Les Neurons have “Life During Wartime” playing in the morning mental music stream. The 1979 Talking Heads song is about surviving in a dystopian period. Such survival to extreme changes requires a lot of adaptation, and that might be where we’re heading soon.
Sample Lyrics
Heard about Houston? Heard about Detroit? Heard about Pittsburgh, PA? You oughta know not to stand by the window Somebody see you up there
I got some groceries, some peanut butter To last a couple of days But I ain’t got no speakers, ain’t got no headphones Ain’t got no records to play
Why stay in college? Why go to night school? Gonna be different this time? Can’t write a letter, can’t send no postcard I ain’t got time for that now
Trouble in transit, got through the roadblock We blended in with the crowd We got computers, we’re tapping phone lines I know that that ain’t allowed
We dress like students, we dress like housewives Or in a suit and a tie I changed my hairstyle so many times now I don’t know what I look like
You make me shiver, I feel so tender We make a pretty good team Don’t get exhausted, I’ll do some driving You ought to get you some sleep
Burned all my notebooks, what good are notebooks? They won’t help me survive My chest is aching, burns like a furnace The burning keeps me alive
May this day and the days to come treat you with peace and grace as you ride the roller coaster of life.
My wife and I greet each other many mornings with, “What’s the news? He dead yet?”
Then we laugh and say, “I know he’s not or you would have shouting the news.”
You know, this is the only person in our lifetime together — over fifty years — that we have ever said such things about. And we never specify who we’re talking about. That’s. Not. Needed.
Mom is complaining about her relationships with her daughters. “Three of them live nearby and none of them will take me to my appointments. Which will only HASTEN my death anyway.”
My sister’s daughter, May, is going to visit Mom tomorrow. We’re interested in the after-visit report. Mom helped raise May, and she and Mom had a great relationship until about four years ago. Then Mom became so angry and bitter, complaining about so many things, May declared, “I can’t do that any longer. It’s just too much.” Which is the case with my sisters and the rest of their children. Mom just became too much. I’d seen that trend developing and told Mom over and over through the last several years that all she does is complain and scold, that she’s always angry and bitter. Once she said that her partner, Frank, had just told her the same thing.
Trump has big action happening in DC with the Freedom 250 Indycar Grand Prix. It’s all part of Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! He’s just trying to distract all he can from how crappy things are going. Lots of corporations are going along with him. Retail sales are down, reflecting people’s challenges with the increasing affordability of living in the US. But corporations overall are doing well, with energy and technology companies doing particularly well.
So, yes, many corporations are all in for Trump’s Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! distractions. Hey, they’re getting theirs! Make hay while the sun shines! So what if the wealth gap continues to widen, if personal bankruptices are increasing, rural hospitals are closing, measles outbreaks are increasing, and the extreme weather gets worse? Corporation execs and shareholders are making money. Later, when the situation changes, they’ll contritely reduce prices, announcing ‘we’re all in this together’.
No. We’re not. They make that clear. They’re only in it together with us if it’s going to affect their profits, and then, they’ll only act under duress.
Today’s music emerges from my dream. I didn’t hear it in the dream but as I went through the night’s third dream, I suddenly heard Karen Carpenter singing “We’ve Only Just Begun”.
That could be an apt song for now, as far as the title’s sentiment. We’re about to go through some heavy duty loads with Donald Trump. He tried staying in power when he lost his bid for re-election, encouraging his supporters to resist the bona bide election results, encouraging them to ignore the law, resulting in death and destruction while widening the trust gap and polarizing the electorate. This year, he’s been working on trying to undermine the system.
Here’s the irony: Trump is cheerleading the nation’s 250th anniversary while simultaneously undermining the system that we’ve developed and improved for 250 years, the system which actually delivered him victory — twice.
Yet, Trump keeps whining and complaining about stolen elections without evidence. Is cutting much of the federal government in order to shift loads to states because of states’ rights. Meanwhile, he’s working hard to hollow out the states’ role in the national elections, basically usurping it so he can mold it as head of the executive branch of the federal government. It’s such a naked, wanton, power grab.
Trump is doing it because he’s a failure. His policies are failures, and people are awakening to this. His only way to get ahead, as always, is to lie, cheat, and steal.
So get ready: we’ve only just begun.
May your day begin with love and happiness and end on a high note.
One of them is barely recalled. It’s one of those episodic dreams I sometimes have, where there’s no one who I recognize as me. It’s just a story being told, like a television show.
I remember just part of a second one. Three other men and I were traveling together in an early 1960s something Cadillac convertible. We drove through sunshine with the top down. I was very impressed for some reason that there were four of us, two blacks and two whites. I believe we took turns driving.
We wore a uniform, and I knew we were on the same team but have no idea what team. From what I remember of the uniforms, they were white with dazzling embroidery, like something Elvis Presley would wear in concert.
Hungry, we stopped at a place where we decided we would pretend to be lawyers. We thought that ruse would gain us some food because we didn’t have any money. That didn’t seem to work so we drove cheerfully on through a winding orange canyon to another town.
We decided this time to claim that we were reporters. Women were running this place. One large, barrel-chested blonde woman was in charge. She mocked our claim that we were reporters, but they fed us anyway.
Dream end
Third dream involved family and food. I was with my sisters at some gathering at someone’s home. We were outside for most of the dream, where, weirdly, my sisters were baking. Besides them, there were many children. I barely knew most of them and didn’t recognize them from real life.
I needed an engine for some reason and ended up with a V8 engine with headers, a high rise manifold with a single four-barrel carb. The engine block was painted bright blue, and the air filter cover was chrome plated. After I got the engine, I realized, “I don’t need this.” But I wanted to save it. So I picked it up and put it in one of the rooms. I thought, I’ll leave that here for now but I’ll need to move it later.
My sisters and I talked a little politics. Then one announced, it’s time to eat. We got trays and loaded them up.
As I did, I went to cross the patio. Four tiny, perfect silver and black tabby kittens were playing. They’d found something and pounced on it, batting whatever it was with furious energy. I swear, these kittens were no more than three inches long.
My older sister asked me what I was doing and I showed her the kittens. She watched with me a bit, then I moved the kittens so they’d be safe.
The children and I decided to watch television. I wanted to watch football. I knew it was Sunday and games should be on, because of the time. No games were on, confusing me. I did the math: back home, the games start at 10 AM and it was almost 1 here, so there should have been a game on.
I went back to eat more cookies. My youngest sister was still baking. I walked along long tables mounded with food and wondered, laughing, why is she baking more? I ate a few cookies, which was delicious.
One brother-in-law, the Trump-loving one, was present, stretched out on a dark-brown sofa, talking. I wanted to hear what he said, but a plastic cocoon formed over him, sealing him in. I could hear him still talking but it was only a rumble of sound, and couldn’t see him at all.
Getting another cookie and eating it, my little sister demanded in her ominous ‘mom-voice’, “What are you doing?”
Laughing, I replied, “Eating a cookie? Why are you making more? Do you know you how many cookies there are?”
I saw her move the V8 engine which I’d move. I went over and picked it up to take it away, but then didn’t know where to take it.
It wasn’t one of the places she lived in real life, but I knew it was her house.
No one else was there. The place was messy in many places, totally opposite of anyplace I’ve lived or visited where Mom was in command.
Getting there, I found a narrow bed. White sheets, pink blanket, pillow, but unmade. I decided to sleep a bit.
A long-haired gray and white cat joined me. I talked to it in the way we do with animals, telling the cat, a male, I knew, was very handsome. The cat then *ahem* indicated that it wanted to have sex with me.
Full-blown horror lashed me. I rejected that completely, telling the cat that was sick and disgusting. I added, “You can sleep with me but as a cat, not a sexual partner.”
Unable to sleep after that, I got up and walked around, taking notice of the mess. Part of it on one end was a pond with rocks. Water fed into it but the water was scummy, full of plants and crap. Deciding I would clean it, I went off, found rags, buckets, tools.
My sisters arrived, chattering and laughing, before I could clean it but after a sort pause, I did. In dream fashion, it was miraculously fast and easy.
I showed the others. Everyone was impressed by what I’d done. Two turtles emerged from the pond. My youngest sister exclaimed, “I knew there were turtles in there.”
One turtle puked. Examining that, my sister announced with happiness, “It’s pregnant. I am so happy.”
Mom arrived shortly afterward, the middle-aged person I knew for most of my life. Her hair was blond and she was wearing black slacks with this black and white polka-dotted frilly shirt that she often liked to wear. Smiling and happy, she came in, saying hello to all of us.
I was working for a small startup. Don’t know what the business was supposed to be but the dream featured many real-life co-workers. Among these was a person I worked for, LD; LD fired in my dream.
The firing shocked me. But I had made a stand against not doing something which LD advocated that I found shady. (That, BTW, is completely contrary to LD’s real-world ethics.) Telling me that I was fired, LD added that I was being given $28,000 in severance, along with $6K to $8K in other expenses. Not a bad package but I still brooded over being fired. Given till the day’s end to clear out my desk, coworkers, the CEO, and several of the directors from other departments, came by, expressing support for me.
I then had to feed the cat. That was my real-life cat, Jade, who passed away twenty years ago. Not feeding her right was apparently part of the complaint against me, which I found laughable as she gobbled up the food I gave her.
Then I left. I ended up hitching a ride with four co-workers in a red VW Beetle. Two of them were female. A friend of mine from current real-life, Bob, was present. Bob was very drunk and angry about me being fired. He was playing something called ‘the dictionary game’. I couldn’t figure it out. Bob, having won, got out of the car to go home. He beat on the car’s window then, telling me that they were wrong to fire me. Then he walked off.
Ashland, southern Oregon. Thursday, August 13, 2026.
Another cool one for us, 71 F and 86 later. Blue sky, sunshine, clear air. You have no complaints from me about it.
Still worried, though; red flag warnings have been issued for much of Oregon for later today. Lightning, which too easily translates to more wildfires.
Although I live in Oregon, north of California, I checked out this news article on SF Gate this morning:
It’s supposed to be a super El Nino. The conditions creating the super El Nino is why we’re not having as many hurricanes in the Atlantic this year.
But the article begins, “All eyes are on the unusual power of this year’s El Niño.“
I laughed when I read that. I don’t think Trump’s eyes are on the impending El Nino at all. Led by Trump, his administration has focused on policy actions that roll back climate science initiatives and downscale the federal agencies responsible for tracking things like El Nino. Erika Spanger, director of strategic climate analytics at UCS, summarized it well:
“This is the year when the triple crises of climate change, a reckless authoritarian government, and economic insecurity will start to collide.”
That’s Trump: reckless. His path of destruction screams about the reckless nature of his decisions. Trump doesn’t learn; he hears some bullshit that his supporters like hearing and adopts it as policy. Traditional conservatives and members of the GOP supports him because he’s not a Democrat.
Meanwhile, look at how poorly the job market is doing. How much cases of measles are rising. The slog unofficially known at the Trump Iran War — TIW.
Look at his lies about one thing after another.
It turns my stomach.
We’re watching El Nino here, of course. We’ve been enduring wildfire damage. That sets us up for erosion, flooding, and landslides. That’s compounded by the drought conditions we’ve had for several years. With drought, the earth can absorb less water. Hence, more flooding. Additionally, we’re expecting warmer than usual weather; we aren’t expecting the snow we need for next year.
Based on his history, I expect Trump and MAGAts to shrug and say, “It’s weather.” Talk about simple minds.
Today’s music is “Sanctify Yourself” by Simple Minds. A dream deposited it in my morning mental music stream. At one point in the dream, my wife and I, along with my sister-in-law, went into what seemed a hotel suite — or our house. Not really clear on that point. I heard the song play in the dream and briefly wondered, hey, is Simple Minds here? But in classic dream fashion, I then pivoted to other matters.
A dream deposited it in my morning mental music stream. At one point in the dream, my wife and I, along with my sister-in-law, went into what seemed a hotel suite — or our house. Not really clear on that point. I heard the song play in the dream and briefly wondered, hey, is George Thorogood here? But in classic dream fashion, I then pivoted to other matters.
This is a 1986 song that I’ve always enjoyed myself. I found a Night of the Proms performance of this song. I frequently enjoy the way the Proms series present these songs. Hope you enjoy it as well.
Sample Lyrics
Is this the age of the thunder and rage Can you feel the ground move ’round your feet? If you take one step closer, it’ll lead to another The crossroad above is where we meet
I shout out for shelter, I need you for something The whole world’s out, they’re all on the street Control yourself, love is all you need Control yourself in your eyes
Sanctify yourself, sanctify (sanctify) Be a part of me, sanctify (sanctify) Sanctify yourself, sanctify (sanctify) Sanctify yourself, set yourself free
May your August day be one that’s sweetness and light, with peace and grace, in the face of the mess that keeps building.
Last night’s dream featured three dead people: my friend, Randy; Dad; and my mother-in-law, Belle. It also featured a high school English teacher, and my father’s second wife. He was married three times, although he also loved with another woman for about ten years.
I was young. At the dream’s beginning, I’m up above, in a house, with others. Down below is a large green lawn with some green maples or oaks. Dad, stumbling drunk and very loud, was down there with his second wife by the trees. She was pregnant. Dad had two long rifles.
A man and woman were walking backwards across the grass, away from Dad. The man wore a straw hat. He also had two rifles.
Although I could hear them yelling, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. But they were having some kind of argument, and it was escalating. From what I saw, the man seemed to threatening to shoot Dad.
Turning, I found two weapons beside me. Picking up a sawed-off shotgun, I pointed it down at the man and called out.
He acknowledged something about, “Oh, now you have a shotgun in the fight.”
Another man and woman seemed to be approaching from the other side of the lawn to join that man and woman.
I realized the shotgun would be ineffective because of the range so I picked up the long rifle and aimed it at the man.
He moved back forward toward Dad and raised his rifle. Then he backed away again, turned and began walking away.
At that point, Dad threw his rifles into the air, hurling them away from the house.
The man left and Dad and his wife came in.
Dad could barely walk because he was so drunk. He went into a room where he said with a sloppy grin, “I’m going to lay down.” Then he passed out on his back on the floor.
Meanwhile, I had homework to do. I shifted to being in a classroom with my high school English teacher. She was explaining to us, a small class of students, what she wanted in our assignment.
The assignment excited me. I went home and worked on it on my computer. Then the file crashed, which upset me. I had two other assignments due but now didn’t have enough time to complete it all. Thinking about what to do, I concluded that I needed to tell the teacher that I couldn’t get it in on time and go from there.
I then went out to join the others. We were in a very large, well-lit house, brick, with many windows. All of us went to one small room. My mother-in-law (Belle) was in there. Something she said or that we saw satisfied us. We concluded, “That’s taken care of.”
Moving back into a hall, I said, “Now we need to figure out where we all sleep.”
Randy, my dead friend, began walking down the hall, talking with me. We were looking into the bedrooms. They were small, with a small bed, and no doors. I saw one and thought, I’ll sleep there, though I said nothing.
Randy led me into another small bedroom. “I can put someone in here,” he said. I noticed that there was hall attached. Saying, “What’s in there,” I went into the hall, which turned out to be a huge, well-lit bedroom. As I walked in, astounded, I saw an enormous room, with a huge king-sized bed, and two other, smaller beds.
I said, “People can sleep in here,” then I realized, oh, this is Belle’s room. If we put people in here, where will Belle sleep?
Michael Seidel, writer 