Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Floofrise (floofinition) – Moment when animals get up to do things and tries to get others up.
In use: “Many people who live with cats find that floofrise will usually take place at three or four in the morning, while they’re trying to pursue deep sleep. Unfortunately for them, stopping floofrise is as difficult as stopping sunrise.”
She says that she vividly dreams all the time and tells him about two. Both were recurring. In one, she was with her ex-son-in-law. He’s in many of her dreams but in this recurring dream, she and he are in a huge house. Others are there but she doesn’t remember who the others are. The SIL says, “We’re going to bring a lot of children here, so we need to start making beds.” She thinks in response that they’re not ready and that’s going to upset her daughter.
The other recurring dream, experienced three nights in a row, was about being in a huge mansion. She said it cost over a billion dollars to build. It’s sealed off from the outside world. But she thinks, there’s no oxygen. There’s no air. She can’t breathe.
She dreamed that one while she was in the hospital on oxygen, fighting COVID pneumonia.
Watching leaves falling from trees on a windy autumn day, he wondered if it would be appropriate to say leaves are leaving in droves.
It was 03:55 in my dream. I needed to use the bathroom. So I navigated my way to it. As I did, I glanced at my watched and confirmed it was 03:55. I puzzled over the time, thinking, I think I wake up every morning at 03:55 and use the bathroom.
Opening the bathroom door, I saw myself getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. As I did, I looked at my watched and shifted to being that person and saw it was 03:55.
And again.
Awakening, I sat up in bed. What I saw was identical to the dream in every way. Getting out of bed, I looked at my watch and saw that it was 03:55. I slowed as the dream’s gravity hung on me, that I’d dreamed what I was doing, then opened the bathroom door, and chuckled.
Inflooftution (floofinition) – Organization established to serve and assist animals.
In use: “Although he seemed destitute, the old man down the street was always feeding and rescuing animals and birds. Astonishing everyone, he used 1.5 million dollars to create an inflooftution to continue his work.”
Yesterday is past. Today is here.
Today is Friday, October 7, 2022. It’s gonna be a cool one here. A silky silvery layer insulates us from the sun and promises precipitation. Sunrise at 7:22 this morning was smooth and low-key, a gradual unveiling of the fall landscape. Sunset at 6:53 will surrender the land back to night. It’s 51 degrees F now, warmer than the week’s earlier offerings, but we’re only expecting a little beyond 13 C as the high. Meanwhile, my wife tells me our high back home was 91 F.
A dream that I was swimming through green water brought me The Neuron’s music choice. Not much of the dream remains except that the water was green but clear, with good visibility. I could see myself from an external perspective, breath held, bubbles sneaking out of me, panic rising as my air ran out. I struck for the surface and could see it far, far above me. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. Cheeks and lungs bursting, I let my air escape.
But then I discovered, oh, I can breath.
Anyway, thinking about that this morning, The Neurons said, oh, “Nightswimming” by R.E.M. from 1992 would be perfect. I dunno, I replied, because it’s a very mellow morning song. But I do like Michael Stipe’s vocal stylings, so here we are.
Stay positive and test negative. I’ve had my coffee, thanks. Loved that fresh brew smell tickling my nose and energizing anticipation. The first cup was taken out to the cool air on the back porch, where I could enjoy the woods and grass’s dark jade richness. Moments like those are salves on the soul, re-establishing my balance as I contemplate existence.
Cheers
He recalled the mother of his youth. She was always reading. Michner, Robbins, Jong, paperbacks purchased at drugstores. Movies fascinated her. She always recommended actors, directors, movies.
Now, she doesn’t have time to read. Hasn’t in years. She’d moved from fiction to true crime to nothing. She doesn’t like movies, she says. She wants drama and none of them provide it. Time is spent watching MSNBC, or shows like Doctor Pimple Popper, My Feet Are Killing Me, and Dateline.
It’s not surprising. Everyone changes. He thinks about the episodes, powers, and energies that shaped and reshaped her, rising to a comparison with the planet, and how unseen events work together to reshape the world.
I binged vivid dreams again last night. The most striking one found me as an alien. I didn’t look like one; I looked human as I do now, though younger.
Living among humans, I’d been hired by a secret government agency to infiltrate a group of five women and get close to them. My employers thought the women were the aliens. The five were gorgeous women, I guess in their thirties, intelligent and educated. The five didn’t know that I knew all of them. Each thought that I was having a relationship with them. I quickly became intimate with three of them. The other two held me off a bit, moving more cautiously. I was comfortable with that because I knew those two didn’t need to be intimate to spill their secrets. They just needed to trust me, and they did.
The whole time, I knew they were humans, and not aliens, but I yielded to the agency’s desires to find intelligence on them because this allowed me insight into the government’s analysis and planning.
Then, recovering one of my alien powers, I duplicated myself so that I could be with all five women simultaneously. To further my endeavor, I also created a dup of me that met with my bosses. I had one mind shared among the six so I could gather greater understanding. I treated the whole thing as a lark.
Then, dream pivot, I was called out from those locations. I was being given a prize, a high honor to recognize my great contributions. I didn’t know what they were talking about but being the devious mutt that I was, I was eager to accept these accolades. Five of my six beings had to be re-integrated into one, as easily done as walking through a door.
The worst part of it was that reintegrating into one made me appear about five years younger than before. As people saw me and remarked in astounded tones about my youthful appearance, I laughed it off and told them it came from easy living.
Dream end.
Writing has been a struggle. Taking care of Mom means that I give her first priority. My time and thinking keeps getting fragmented. Also, I’ve been on meds to eliminate my cough. As it’s almost gone, I quit the meds. Looking at the bottle, I saw that it can cause drowsiness and dizziness.
Lightning struck. The meds were dulling my thinking. That was behind my writing struggles. I immediately said, no more meds, and it was like a curtain was pulled back.
Time to write like crazy, at least once more.
