The Darkened Grapes Dream

This was a dream with a sharp real feeling, startling me into confusion when I found myself in my bed after awakening.

I received a small brown box in the mail. Opening it were two things. Don’t know what one was but the other was a large bunch of green grapes in a plastic baggy. Receiving those really pleased me as I’d order them. From that, I learned that my wife and I were vacationing and staying a small room and bath in some exotic location. The building was small and meandering and seemed to be constructed of thick clay. My dwelling was painted pink but the one beside it was yellow.

A knock came on the door and then a large American opened it. He explained that they were next door. They didn’t have a bathroom and were told they needed to use ours. Sure, I told him. He and his wife entered. While he used the bathroom, we chatted with the wife about the place, inviting them to go with us as we went around so that they can learn of places we enjoy.

I showed them my grapes in their baggy. Then I opened the baggy. The grapes all immediately blackened and shriveled. I thought they were raisins but feeling them found that they were soft and mushy. I left them alone because I didn’t want to damage them. We left, taking the bunch of darkened grapes with me.

We walked around small shops. Shopkeepers and local people wanted to touch the darkened grapes wherever we went. They seemed in awe of them. We finally arrived at the small restaurant where we wanted to eat. We’d eaten there before, including the previous year. It was at the owner’s behest that I’d ordered the grapes.

I showed him the darkened grapes and told him what happened. Delighted, he asked if he could hold them, which I permitted. Holding them aloft, he explained that those aren’t grapes, and that I was very lucky to have these because they are very rare and special. I asked him to tell me what they were if they weren’t grapes. As he was embarking on his explanation, I awoke.

Sitting up in the bed in the dark, I shifted left and right, looking for him and my grapes.

Fried-day’s Theme Music

No reason but whimsical demons to call this Fried-day.

It is Black Fried-day, though. Hearing shoppers declare themselves fried or exhausted today after a day of shopping would be about a one on the surprise scale that ends in ten on the high end.

Today is 11/25/2022. My friendsgiving (never sure if I should capitalize that word) was comfortable and satisfying. Smaller than planned, just twelve, but excellent conversation and a spread of food worthy of a feast. Hope you had a similarly rewarding day yesterday. Let’s do it again today.

Many will be doing it again today, because leftovers. More need not be said except I hope no one wastes food and that some is shared with the less fortunate. No one should be going hungry if we were socialized and organized right. There is more to say about it all, but it’s all been said.

Beautiful weather graced us yesterday but Gloomy Gus has taken Fried-day. Sun had a moment about an hour after its 7:13 AM rise but then Gus sprayed gray over the shine. Whether Gus will have his way with the sun until daylight’s departure at 1642 is open for betting. Currently between 3 and 4 C, a high of 55 F is possible. As always with the weather, politics, and the economy, we shall see.

Black Fried-Day has The Neurons circulating “D’You Know What I Mean?” by Oasis, 1997. This came about from listening to small knots of conversation and overhearing someone in each knot at least once rhetorically flourish, “Do you know what I mean?” Cogitating as part of the greater reflection process done later, that aspect amused me, along with hearing, “litte tiny” mentioned and “I was thinking to myself”. Those phrases always make The Neurons giggle, so they brought up the song. There were other songs with similar titles heard in the mental music stream for a bit but this one won the morning portion.

Stay pos and test neg. Enjoy your Fried-day as much as I enjoy this cuppa coffee which is about to meet my lips. Gotta go read a book, a highly entertaining tome called “Network Effect” by Martha Wells. Due back at the library tomorrow. Here’s the tune. Stay chilled.

Cheers

Thursday’s Wandering Thought

His diet amounted to the foods he chose for his health, things his body craved, and then the comfort foods for when his body says, “Hey, it was bad day. How ‘bout some carbs?”

A Friend’s Parents Dream

I was a young man, as I often seem to be in my dreams these days. Visiting at a childhood friend’s home. He wasn’t there. His mother, Arlene — who is deceased in RL — was hosted several of us attending a local school. While visiting, we were all watching television. I settled down on the blue carpet and went to sleep.

I awoke sometime later. Sitting up, I discovered that I was in a short-sleeved black dress. A little more explanation is needed. The dress was black, but see-through. It buttoned in the front. It had wide seams which weren’t transparent, and front pockets which also weren’t transparent. The dress came down to my knees, and I was fully dressed, in the same clothes as before.

Standing, I wondered what had happened and how I’d come to be wearing that dress. I attempted to take take it off but the buttons couldn’t be undone. It was tight, but with some maneuvering, I managed to pull it up over my head. Just as I am finishing, I hear a soft tearing sound. That stops me from trying any longer. Just then, my friend’s mother comes in with a tray of food and drink, telling me that it’s time to get ready. She goes on to explain that she put that dress on me to stay warm, sets the tray down, and hastens to help me. As she pulls it over my head and off, she tells me that she hopes she can get this off without tearing it because it’s special to her. We then hear it tear more. Looking at it, she sees that it’s torn and is dismayed, but then tells me to eat because I need to shave, dress, and go.

I eat an egg salad sandwich from the tray and drink coffee, and then start dashing around. My clothes are upstairs but the bathroom I’m to use is down below. As I hustle around, going up and changing clothes, then going down and shaving, others arrrive. I hear that my friend’s father will be arriving at any moment. (He passed away in RL a few years ago.) I want to be dressed and ready to go before he gets there. But then, he comes in.

I’m called upstairs. As I go up the steps, someone else tells me that Fred — the father — and Arlene want to see me. I step into the dining room where they are. Fred has a box on the table, and is opening. As he says hello to me, Arlene explains that Fred just purchased his first CD player and she wanted to know if I had any CDs for him to play because he doesn’t have any. I tell them that I have just the thing and dash downstairs.

I’m thinking that I’ll loan them several of my classical music CDs, which will surprise them, thinking that it’s more like the kind of music that they would like, rather than the rock I listen to. But I brought my little CD case, and there’s no classical music in it. I select a few blues CD and take them back up to them. Grinning, I explain the whole thing about the classical music CD.

Dream end.

I’ve not seen my friend since my late teens. Oddly, I’ve dream of him since then, as well as his parents.

A Writing Dream

It’s a disheveled dream, with a complicated cast and strange twists. I start out in a parking lot, a young man. My wife drives up in her gray Honda Civic, the one driven in yesteryears. I tell her to park and to make sure she locks the car. I point out a parking slot and she drives away.

Others are met. I tell them I’m waiting for my wife to park, but I’ll see them inside. I’m by my car of yesteryear, my first RX-7, a light blue vehicle that we bought brand new. My wife comes up. I ask her to park the RX-7 for me and tell her where. As she gets into the car, closes the door and drives away, I walk off toward a building. I pass her car; she’s left the door open. I’m dismayed, asking myself, what’s wrong with her? Her seatbelt is hanging out of the door, so I theorize that its position prevented her from closing the door and she didn’t notice. I fix all that, and then head on to building, a multi-story, long, white modern edifice with black windows, one of those places seen in business parks across the U.S. As I walk the loaded parking lot, I see my parked Mazda. Its door is open. What is wrong with my wife that she’s left doors open and unlocked in two cars?

In the building, I enter an apartment. Mom is there, along with her boyfriend, Frank. She waves hello to me. I find my wife in the kitchen preparing food and tell her that she left the doors open and unlocked on both cars. She mutters something defensive back. I answer, “That’d be fine if it was one car, but it was two. You have a problem.” I walk off.

Someone comes by to give me the book I’m working on. It’s a big, clumsy book, totally unfamiliar. When I open it, I discover nonsensical words and phrases written in a large, sloppy style using crayons. I recognize that it’s Frank’s book. I protest, “This isn’t my book. Where is my book?”

I go through the house to find my book. As I search, I find sandwiches overfilled with meat, cheese, and lettuce. No one else is there so I wonder aloud but to myself, “What’s with all of these sandwiches.” I continue going through, looking for the book, confounded, picking up a sandwich and eating it as I go. I begin noticing piles of coins on end tables, coffee tables, window sills, and the floor. Someone else is walking through the room. I turn and ask, “What’s with all these coins?” They reply, “I don’t know, you left them there.”

“I left them?” I ask back, but I’m alone. I realize that I’ve eaten my sandwich. It’s gone but there are plenty more. There’s also many more piles of money that I didn’t see before. They’re everywhere, growing taller and wider, filling with silver coins.

Dream end.

Stalemate

It’s a classic conundrum: who will eat the last piece of blueberry pie? Everyone is being polite, telling others to take it. It’s been over twelve hours.

How much longer will the stalemate last?

Sunday’s Theme Music

Sunrise at 7:10 AM barely seemed to break the slumbering land’s mood. Clouds own some responsibility, as do the season, and a general sense that rest is welcomed, so let’s keep doing it. At least, that’s how it felt in this household. Others may have been scenes of mayhem or orderly transitions to daytime routines.

Today is Sunday, September 25, 2022. 54 F outside under a thin gray veil, the air temp will hike up to 69 F before the sun bows out at 7:13 PM.

Mom continues displaying evidence that she’s doing much better. Yesterday was pill organization day one. Today will be day two of the monthly event, where she sits and doles out the pills into pill planning boxes for morning, breakfast, afternoon, evening, and bedtime. She is organized with it, with abundant notes about what and when to take them and what symptom or problem each addresses.

Meanwhile, her BF went shopping together. They’ve lived together for seventeen years. Neither wanted to marry, though they love each other. So, he is officially her fiancée. I usually refer to him as her partner. He’s a good guy and I’m pleased they’re together. He is 92 years old but energetic and earnest.

He went shopping. He does all their shopping. Guess I should mention that he has a sweet tooth. LOVES donuts. Works out at the gym a few times a week to keep fat off. The stuff he brings home, though. I’m, like, gosh, I can’t eat that caramel pie. No, Sock It To Me Cake. I’ll pass, coffee rolls, cinnamon rolls, donuts, and cookies. But it be hard. I tell my wife about this food and she wonders, “OMG, how do they stay fit and alive?” How, indeed.

Hence, today’s song is, almost naturally, “U Can’t Touch This”. Didn’t even need The Neurons to tell me this. MC Hammer, in his colorful parachute pants and fascinating dance moves, had a hit with it in 1989. It won awards and was played without mercy for a while, as radio and television is wont to do when something catches big. My mind grabbed the lyrics and music when I saw all those goodies and few days ago and my stomach told my brain, “Give me some pie.” When I said no, the stomach pleaded for at least a donut. “Uh, huh,” the brain answered. “Can’t touch it.” And there we were.

Stay positive, test negative, and so forth. Now, it’s coffee time. Get down.

Here’s the tune. Cheers

Monday’s Wandering Thought

He took his breakfast out onto the porch to enjoy the rain as he ate. Two deer were feeding in the grass a dozen feet away. The three considered one another for about ten seconds. Then all continued breakfast.

Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He learned something about himself. Half an apple fritter is not enough when the other half is available. Nobody else was there to eat it. It would just get old. Stale.

It was really about not being wasteful. And it went well with coffee.

The Prisoner Dream

Sooo…I’m on a ship. Never see it, just know that I’m onboard something. It’s huge, apparently.

I’ve been captured and I’m being transported. Zip ties bind my hands, along with my two companions. Either via dream mechanics or I’ve forgotten what transpired, I’m then free of my ties, then lose the two people with me. I know my captors are tracking me. I sneak through this big vessel, going through sections housing people sitting in roads, following a washed-out dirt road, slipping through a jungle…

As I go, I observe the passengers. They’re also prisoners. None are bound in any way. It looks like they’re just taking a flight, traveling somewhere. I know better. Seeing a huge piece of cardboard, I realize that there’s a lot of waste and that we prisoners can utilize this waste to improve our situation. Food is hidden in different locations which we can eat, and there are materials we can use as clothing or to build shelters.

I try explaining to other prisoners what I’m thinking. Most don’t understand. Worse, they speak very loudly. One young woman finally understands me and tells the others. Going, “Oh, I see,” they lift a corner of the cardboard and see a pile of uneaten food. They all start passing food out and eating.

I hurry on because I know my captors are still after me. I come to a chute. In it, I find packaged food and help myself. Taking three of them with me, I move on.

I come to a sandy stretch. Not sure if it’s a desert or part of beach or something else. Briefly, I think, should I go through this? Am I going the right way?

I decide to go on because going back doesn’t seem feasible. As I trudge through the hot white sand, I became aware of small things fluttering around me. They’re on the sand and become airborne as I walk by them. They have wings, I see, and think that they look like very small, winged people about the size of ladybugs. All are white, in white clothing. As they fill the air around me, I see that all are females. They start landing on me, leaving small sand deposits. I start swatting them, trying to keep them away, and dust the sand off, and then I ‘know’ that they’re actually treating illnesses in me. I go still, because that will help them. The sand is gone. I’m instead in green water. The little fairy women are still treating me.

Dream end.

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