A Camaro Dream

I’d just signed a contract. Half of the money due me was paid and the other half would come later.

I was going next to visit my family. I decided I would surprise them. I bought four condos which were exactly the same, along with four 1968 Chevy Camaros, also exactly the same. Everything was in excellent condition. I can’t tell you what color the cars were, except they were immaculately polished and gleamed in the light.

I would be staying in one condo but I expected my sisters and Mom to stay in the other condos with their families. I would drive one Camaro; they would drive the rest.

Here it gets a little hazy. It’s about the keys. Whenever I got the keys for the cars or condos, there would be a green light.

I went to leave to meet with my sister, driving the Camaro I was giving her. First, I had to stop. There was unfinished business, leaves which needed to be moved away for Dad. I did most of those very fast, with the car door open and the engine running, then went off and picked up my sister and her son.

I told my sister to drive and told her the car was hers. She didn’t fully understand. I took her to the condos. Oddly, the three condos for the family were on one floor; my condo was alone, stacked on top of them.

I told my sister and nephew that this is where I’m staying and that it’s where I wanted them to stay as well. My sister worried about the expense. I kept telling her that I’d bought it and already paid for it.

Another sister arrived with her husband. I gave them the keys to their Camaro and showed them the four cars. They responded, “That’s nice.” I explained a few times that I was giving them the car. They finally got it and were shocked. My brother-in-law kept talking about the cars’ “mint condition”.

Other family arrived. Some young man from the condos came to help people with baggage. He asked, “Which condo is yours?” He seemed concerned about so many people staying in one condo.

I explained to him that I owned four of them but that I was giving three of them to my sisters and mother. I gave him the keys to their three condos. Catching on, he responded, “That cost a fortune.”

Mom was there, in her nurse’s uniform. She worried that she had to go to work. I kept telling her that she didn’t, but she was insistent.

It was raining, with light flooding. To go to work, Mom had to cross a muddy, swampy stream. I didn’t want her to cross because I didn’t think she would make it. But she went. As I watched, she fell into a hole and went underwater. I began rushing forward to help her but a large man showed up on the other side. Reaching down, he lifted Mom, drenched and covered with mud and weeds, and set her down on the other side.

Dream end.

Tuesday’s Theme Music – Crashing

Ashland, southern Oregon — Tuesday, June 9, 2026.

Lightly rained off and on all day yesterday. We have a marbled sky today, gray and white against blue. Sunshine cuts through the clouds, darkening the mountain’s greenery with shadow islands. 56 F, our high will cut into the mid 70s. I don’t mind; give me this instead of the drought’s extreme dry and the blistering heat that usually strikes.

Gina is on the warpath, as we put it in my household growing up, a carryover from Mom and her generation and those before her. Mom called Gina with reports of theft and the lack of regular cleaning. Mom said that she’s been cleaning her own bathroom floors with wet wipes.

As the most confrontational of my family, Gina charged right in: this needs to be fixed. What’s the ‘or else’ implied? I’m not sure. It might be ‘more Gina’.

My wife got her latest ‘real ID’ yesterday. This one has the star. What will adorn them next?

Getting that for her required an appointment and a visit to the ‘big’ DMV in Medford. It was either go there or camp out at the Ashland DMV every morning and hope the Gods of Bureaucracy were kind.

She took in her birth certificate. Not the real thing, but a tattered, certified ‘photographic reproduction’ created in 1962. Much of the birth certificate’s entries were in cursive. The DMV agent, a very nice person, laughed about the struggles to read cursive, as she hasn’t had to in a while. That led to a sidebar about her children. They don’t know cursive and when she writes notes using cursive, they ask things like, “What language is that?”

That chased us into a conversation about signatures. The DMV agent said anything can be used and recognized as a ‘signature’. From further conversation, it appears that we’re basically going back to ‘making our mark’.

On the Trump side of things, my wife and I were talking about the food prices. My gosh, how they’ve gone up.

This morning had news about Scott Bessent, Trump’s secretary of something, claiming that prices are coming down. I’m sure you can cherry-pick and find some prices have declined. Overall, prices remain UP.

I did a search about Bessent’s claim and saw that he’s made that claim a few times the last several months. And as late as last November – 2025 – he was trying to blame Democrats for the prices. I know from Trump’s latest Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! pivot, aka the Trump Iran war, that Trump knows that prices are higher. He knows that the war is causing it.

*probably also knows his tariffs are causing them but won’t admit it because that would reveal he’s been wrong all along*

Trump, though, has pivoted. He’s not worried about high prices, affordability, or Americans’ finances, no; he’s saving us from Iranian nukes.

Ironically, of course, that was also the Bush-Cheney claim for the war against Iraq: WMD.

Yes, Trump and the GOP have dragged WMD back out of the closet. They’ve avoided using that phrase. That phrase — WMD — is loaded with baggage for US voters and the world.

It shows that in the end, Trump and the GOP only have three dimensions to their strategy: fear, distract, and cause dis-unity. For when facts, truth, and unity show up, Democrats win, and we move forward. Not evenly, and certainly not perfectly. But we move forward in our efforts against poverty, food deserts, climate change, and real challenges. Not fake challenges that are monsters only in unthinking minds.

Trump’s war is now 101 days old and counting. Iran shot down a helicopter. Trump vowed retaliation. That’s how it works with cease-fires with Trump.

The other big Trump news was about Trump attending the NBA game in New York.

  1. Trump couldn’t make time to go to his son’s small, private wedding, but oh, boy, he loved showing up at an NBA playoff game.
  2. The arrogance and selfishness Trump showed by going to that game, and its impact on fans’ ability to enjoy the game.
  3. Boos rained down on Trump. He heard it and tried to pretend it was cheering. LOL. But he knew it was booing, and he didn’t like it.
  4. A photo showed Trump asleep at the game. Real? I don’t know. But Trump has been shown sleeping at enough events that the photo has legs.
  5. Trump looks really bad. Sick. Tired. OLD. DOTTERING.

Not a good outing for Trump.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

The Epstein ballroom remains under construction. No new news on who is paying for it.

Trump’s approval continues its slow crash. Disapproval numbers show a sea of red. In a way, Trump is starting to live up to the vision he had of himself as a ‘unifying’ force; unity in disapproval of him and his policies is increasing.

My morning thoughts were about a dream that involved flying. The Neurons were snooping around, found out, and introduced “Aeroplane” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers into the morning mental music stream. Hope you enjoy it.

My hopes for everyone and everything is to go with peace and grace and make life better for all of us. Not just a privileged few.

Cheers

The Airplane Crash Dream

I was on a large, modern aircraft filled with people. We were going on a long flight.

After takeoff, I was taken to the cockpit. It was airy and spacious. Windows showed the air around us but I could also see the planet below. It was a bright, beautiful day, with a few high clouds. Very cool.

I was told that I’d been selected to monitor the flight. Didn’t need to do anything; just be there.

Well, I could do that! It felt like some kind of honor. I settled into a chair and my role. The flight progressed…

Then, I was awakening on the flight deck. Klaxons were blaring. I could tell from perspective and angles, we were MUCH lower. I thought, oh my God, we’re going to crash. And I’m going to be in so much trouble.

Then I was irritated because, why didn’t someone already respond, come up, and take over. Then I thought about pulling on the controls and trying to take us to a higher flight level.

I thought, ARE YOU NUTS? Don’t touch the controls. You might make it worse.

Then, in a weird dream shift, I was on the ground at the airport, in the working part of the airport, waiting for the plane to craft, fretting about the trouble I was going to be in. I ran into a friend who was on the flight; he was worried about being in trouble, too.

We had to keep moving to stay out of the airport workers’ way. My friends explained that there were five of us in positions like me, people who were supposed to be watching things, so there was trouble to go around. At the same time, the people who were supposed to be on the job were not, so they would also be in trouble.

Exactly, I agreed.

Meanwhile, a young female set up equipment on a table not far from us. She was going to monitor the aircraft’s progress from there because they might need to blow it up. She was busy and couldn’t explain more about this process.

Then I heard others saying, “Look, what’s that?”

I went out. They were pointing up. The sky was blue but a bright white fireball was going across it.

That’s the jet, I thought. Then I thought, but that could be a meteor. Or a comet or asteroid.

Then I thought, wait: how am I on the ground, waiting for the plane to crash? That didn’t make sense.

I then went back in and decided to change clothes so I could walk around more. Then I thought, how do I have my clothes on the ground with me if we’re waiting for the aircraft to crash? How did we all get off the aircraft, if it’s still flying?

That didn’t make any sense.

Dream end.

NOTE: When I wrote up this dream this morning, I saw how much of it paralleled what I was going through with writing. I set aside “Unfocused” after several drafts to let it cool, get some distance. Then I began working on “A Tribe Called Death”. As I hit page 70, I was frantic because that novel took some weird turns and left me flailing about where to go, what to do.

I calmed myself: hey, this is the first draft, nimrod. Just write. And by the end of the day, a character had taken a position and showed me the way. I think the dream reflected that whole process, in its own way.

Friday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, June 5, 2026.

Blue sky, cool air, and sunshine marks the valley. We’re at 59 F and expect a high of the upper seventies.

In Mom’s world, it’s been quiet on her health. No feedback from her visit to the hospital ER and the tests they ran. On the housing side of it, there’s a good offer on Mom’s house. I voted to take it, but they have opted to wait and see if more come in. The offer expires tomorrow night.

Read some good news for Australia. Their Cockroach King has been arrested. The US Cockroach King remains in the White House.

In depressing US news, the Roberts Court ruled Alabama can use its new Congressional map. A lower court found it racial. But the Roberts Court, hiding behind the shadow docket, said, “It’s good,” without bothering to sign their opinion. This is the John Roberts’ legacy.

Trump’s legacy is war, lies, and fake news. News reports are bubbling over the job reports. Based on economic factors and indicators, economists were expected another bad one. Gosh, somehow the Trump appointee managed to find ‘good’ numbers.

No, the numbers aren’t sterling. I expect them to be revised downward in a few months or exposed as fake. That’s in keeping with Trump’s preaching. He’s always shouting fake news, fake news while lying about what’s happening or planned.

He lied and promised no new wars, claimed the war was over, and we won, and yet, the war goes on. So, no, I don’t believe anything come out of the Trump administration.

I don’t have a Trump Quote of the Day available. Instead, I offer this image of Trump celebrating Pride Month.

The Epstein ballroom remains under construction. Trump’s war on Iran is closing on 100 days. The national debt is still growing, as is the national deficit.

I got a song stuck in my morning mental music stream: “Nothing Gonna Stop Us Now”. The song, from 1987, was performed by Starship. It’s the theme song to the move, “Mannequin”. I have never seen it.

I don’t know why The Neurons planted it in my morning stream. I was doing my dream recall routine and the song started. It doesn’t seem to be specifically related to any part of any dream, though. Hope you enjoy it.

Enjoy your first June Friday! Hope peace, happiness, and joy fill it.

Cheers

The Cork Dream

I dreamed I was at my mother’s house. It wasn’t her real-life house but I knew what it was in my dream. Although everything was white, there was little light.

I was trying to open some kind of cistern. As it transpired, I knew that it was wine I tried opening, to see how it was. It was supposed to be red wine.

I was being very careful, meticulous, because I worried about the cork falling apart. But it wasn’t the ‘traditional’ cork stopper, but a round, flat circle.

My youngest sister joined me. She asked what I was doing and I softly explained it as she leaned over me and watched. I had just gotten the safely out when something fell into the wine.

I asked my sister, “Did you see that?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Was that a piece of the cork falling in?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.” I sat back. “All that work and I got it out and then it broke and fell in.”

I smiled at her. “Oh, well.”

Laughing, she replied, “I know.”

Sunday’s Theme Music

Ashland, southern Oregon — May 24, 2026.

Home again, home again…

Papi was as pleased as he ever shows himself to be when we opened the back door and called his name. Standing, stretching, he paused to wash, then began to trot towards us, then stopped to stretch, and finally walked over, sat down, washed, and looked up: “Oh. Hi. Didn’t see you there.”

Good to see him.

56 degrees F here, roaring power lawn equipment has replaced the sounds of surf. There’s no beach to ponder, no waves to assess and admire, no fresh ocean air to breath, no ‘sea breeze’ to battle as I walk.

Bummer. It’ll be 85 and dry here…

One thing that struck us yesterday coming home was how empty the roads were. Motor homes were especially absent, but in general, it was light traffic to moderate traffic. Long stretches of secondary roads were driven where we met no other cars, followed no vehicles, and had nothing in our mirrors. It did not seem like the holiday traffic — or even the coastal traffic — we’ve encountered in previous years.

Gina, my younger sister, makes progress selling Mom’s possessions: $530 has been realized. The dining room table, chairs, hutch and sideboard are gone. Gina is wheeling and dealing. Someone shows interest, she reaches out, negotiates, shows them what else is available. More prospective buyers are coming by tomorrow. Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, and polishing is underway. Our oldest sister is driving in from Georgia to help out this week.

Trump says the US is almost close to a peace deal with Iran. Let’s add it to the list of times he said the war was over, we won, or that a deal had been negotiated before.

Iran says that they’ll control the Strait of Hormuz and that their nuclear program isn’t being discussed. They’re proposing ‘fees’ instead of tolls or taxes to use the straits.

It’s the same kind of deals we often see on the local levels when our local government wants to raise money but knows that ‘taxes’ will cause a backlash. The answer: fees. We see it with airlines, too. Security fees, handling fees, administrative fees. Not charges, not taxes, not tolls — fees. I remember once reading that Texas had no taxes but they charged fees on everything.

Besides the Golden Age of Corruption, it’s the Golden Age of Fees.

The war costing our nation a small fortune, monetarily. We also killed many people, disrupted lives, and lost military members.

Economists note that the US has been adding to its national debt at the rate of $5,000,000,000 per day since October of 2025.

In an interest coincidence, October of 2025 is when Trump demolished the White House East Wing to begin building the Epstein ballroom under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!

Coincidentally, Trump’s disapproval ratings continue to rise to record levels in polls.

Your Trump Quote of the Day:

Today’s music is by Night Ranger. The Neurons unlocked it when I was in bed this morning, remembering dreams and drifting in and out of sleep. During that fugue state, “When You Close Your Eyes” from the 1980s began playing in the morning mental music stream.

As I remembered the song, I also remembered this was one of the songs I heard while visiting Mom and family after returning from Japan on military duty. My youngest sister and I were together. The song came on the radio. She smiled wide and said, “I love this song.” *smile*

And I realized that’s why the song came into the morning mental music stream; that sister had been in my dream as a young person.

I hope this day is going well for you, and you enjoy a day of peace and grace. If you can’t have that, I hope you can at least have a good meal and some happy times.

Cheers

Black & White, Gardening & House: A Dream

I was working on a house. The house was a modern place, already completed, but I felt that changes were needed. I thought it was my house but sometimes as I worked on it, I thought it belonged to someone else. But I felt very sure that I had the right to change things

The house was white, a modern flat roof box. A breezeway separated the house from a spacious garage. The driveway was white, paved, and in excellent condition.

I decided to change the house’s material. I did so almost without thought – just done. As result, the house, which had been white, was now black or charcoal gray.

Family came by and asked why I did that. My father, who died last year, stopped by and asked why I’d changed it. Doing something else, I absently responded that it was a temporary move and that I would return it to white and could do so whenever I wanted.

Dad shrugged. “Well, whatever you want to do,” he said. “That’s your business. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”

Those were words Dad often used. Sometimes he said, “I hope you know” rather than “I’m sure you know”.

Dad then took me to a garden section. Plants were growing there – tomatoes, onions, carrots, radishes, lettuce. He explained to me what to plant, where to plant it, how to fertilize and water it.

He left, expecting me to continue. I did so but was dissatisfied. He had a lot of starts which he wasn’t using. My sister came along. I was looking at the plants decided not to use. For example, a tomato plant already had several pieces of red fruit on it. I could see it visibly growing, so I decided I would add additional plants. I talked my sister into helping me. Although the plants weren’t as tidy as what Dad had done, I felt they had great potential.

He came by. I showed him what I’d done. Then, almost as an afterthought, I changed the house back to white.

Everyone could immediately see the difference in the house. They all then clamored for me to do that for their houses.

Dream end.

Snow and Fire: A Dream

I was younger, traveling with my wife and a small group. We were in separate vehicles. I knew I was traveling with a group but none of them stand out in memory.

There was a snowy mountain involved. My wife and I were leading the way, driving in an SUV, heading to a site of four cabins partway along our journey. The cabins weren’t our destination but just a stop.

I was driving and we were well ahead of the rest. My wife and I arrived as dusk began. It was on a slope, heavy snow, with large bare and fallen trees. I felt that some paths and parking for the others were needed and set to work doing that. While I made progress, time was limited, and I needed the proper equipment, so I went on.

Reaching a large conference center, I gathered my people. They were a small group – six to seven, I think. A larger conference was going on. I called my people together to talk about what I’d already done and also to note that we needed equipment to clear out the snow around the cabins, but we also needed to move some stuff.

That last seemed important to me. While I don’t specifically know what I was moving, I knew it was big, heavy stuff. Challenging for a small group, I was hoping the other conference’s attendees would overhear us and offer some help.

That didn’t seem to happen. I went back to the cabins with my wife. Arriving there, I now had a red piece of equipment to move the snow away. While I started doing that, I thought I saw some trees smoking.

I examined the trees. They turned out to be short, gray wooden statues carved from tree stumps. I confirmed they were smoking to me and went back to get my wife’s opinion but also to call it in.

She confirmed what I saw. While we were talking about it, a large group of teenagers arrived. They began climbing on the statues. I went over to warn them that I thought the statues were smoking and might be on fire. As I told them this, I pointed out the smoke to them, and then spotted open yellow flames on one of the statues. I then made everyone move away. I also spotted a statue that had turned into smoking black char, telling me that had been happening for a while.

My wife wanted me to go get help. She said she’d stay there but I felt that was unsafe for her and said, “No.” I explained my thinking and she accepted that.

I then went back in and got on a red telephone to call someone for help with the snow removal, getting the students to safety, and putting out the fire. It was both a friend and an authority in charge of such equipment. He began talking, assuming he knew why I was calling. It was noisy and hard to hear. My wife was with me and I told her, “He’s assuming things.” Then I told him, “No, listen to me. That’s not what’s happening. There are three things going on here. Pay attention.”

He promised to pay attention and then said he’d send help.

Dream end.  

A Complex Dream of Instructions and Help

It was a complex dream, shifting as ocean waves with a brisk wind. As I thought about it, I distilled it into these general scenes, but it wasn’t quite this linear.

Younger, I was sometimes in the military, sometimes in some other work, seamlessly moving from one to the other from scene to scene. Most of the background was dark, but as if I was in office buildings.

At one point, a guy came by and gave me a silver computer. “Your instructions are on here,” he said. I nodded, understanding, ready to go to work, confident about how to proceed.

Opening the laptop, I brought up the guidance and sat back in surprise. These instructions were different. No worries; I’d figure it out. Probably just take longer.

I was called into another area. It was a small space, and dark. In there were two high-ranking Air Force general officers, small but slender and fit. I wasn’t there to see them. Passing behind the higher ranking one, I heard him describing someone.

I said without thinking, “Oh, you’re talking about – “

I stopped myself from finishing the sentence because I felt I’d overstepped. Then I apologized.  

The general gave me a sharp look and then nodded once. “You’re right. Good job.”

Leaving there, I went back to my dark office space and reclaimed my seat, reading to resume my work. Two other people came by. They’d received their instructions but weren’t sure how to do it.

Laughing, I gave them some insights about how to proceed. We chatted for a few more seconds before they left and I resumed work, pleased about what I was doing.

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