Category: Information

The Camp Dream

I was an adult and at a camp or retreat. Nothing posh. Many other people there. No one I know. Most were my age. A few were older. Part of the setting, a mild green tinge imbued everything. Skin, clothing, skin. All were tinged green. Not deep. But noticeable.

They made an announcement that we were going to play games. Everyone else was already in gym gear. I needed to change and told them. I had some trouble finding my gym bag. Once I found it, I sought privacy to change. The only place I could find was an old restroom. Cold and wet rough cement floor. Yellow walls — tinged green. Door that didn’t fit right. The door had a dead bolt. I was trying to close it and lock the dead bolt but others kept interrupting. I finally explained what I was trying to do. Left alone, I closed the door and bolted it. Stripped down to put on gym clothes. First set didn’t fit. They couldn’t be my clothes. But I knew those clothes and it was my bag. Next, I couldn’t get the shorts on and then I ripped them. Finally, I managed to get something on that fit. The white shorts and tight white top didn’t please me. But I had nothing else. I went with it.

I went outside to discover that they’d already begun playing. Teams were even. I couldn’t participate. That upset me. I understood that I’d been a long time and that they couldn’t wait But, mitigating what had happened, I’d been delayed. Nevertheless, that was the situation.

I moved to the side by myself and watched. The dream bounced forward from that scene. The games were over. We were gathered to hear about the next activity. Young woman of color was announcing it. I was sitting with others. We’re all tinged green. The coordinator said, “I hear that there’s a writer or novelist among you. Who is that? You’ll enjoy this activity.”

I immediately raised my hand. My hand was the only one raised. People around me turned and pointed to me while saying, “He’s the writer, he’s the novelist.”

The coordinator never looked my way. Never saw me. Then went on, “Who wants to do a fun creative exercise?” My hand was still up. Others still pointed at me. But others raised their hands. The coordinator went to them and passed out the exercise. This went on until only me and one other remained. The other was a young woman of color. She and I told the coordinator that we weren’t given an exercise.

The coordinator said, “Oh, you two can work together.” She then gave us some objective which struck me as make-work.

My partner and I went off to a table. She sat down. Rain sprinkled down. I said, “I don’t think I want to do this. It seems like a waste of time.”

She said, “Neither do I.” She called the coordinator over and said, “We’re not doing this.”

I then walked off.

Dream end.

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Floofmanitarian

Floofmanitarian (floofinition) – Person promoting animal welfare and reform.

In use: “Of course Barbie talks to her animals. Animals are people, too, deserving of as great or greater protection than humans, because humans can speak up for themselves whereas animals can’t. That was where it all started, as a one-person operation rescuing and fostering orphans. Now she was a floofmanitarian, running a global organization dedicating resources to educating others about animal rights.”

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Thursday’s Theme Music

September flourishes. Not. Yet, maybe. I feel like a pet chasing the little red dot as I pursue time and life. Damn if it isn’t quite elusive.

Today is Thursday, September 2, 2021. Sunshine began its warming, illuminating trend, red, gold, and orange through thin gray smoke, at 6:37 AM. The sun’s flight away, if like yesterday, will be a dirty peach at around 7:43 PM. The cooling trend given us by the seasons changing continues. High yesterday was only seventy-nine in my niche of existence. Today should be just 80 F. The cooler weather brings the cats in. That pleases me. I don’t like them being in the smoke. They have their own minds about where they go and what they do, though. They know how to floofnipulate me.

I’m reading of a number of disasters this morning. Flooding. Ida. New abortion law in Texas. SCOTUS ruling on it. Caldor Fire. Other wildfires. Smoke pollution. Tornados. COVID-19 deaths. Just the U.S. news so far. Well, it includes accusations about Afghanistan. Yes, we’re leaving a screwed up country after twenty years of war, many lives, and a huge chunk of money. Somehow, though, that becomes Biden’s fault. I mean, he has been in office for almost eight months. Eight months out of two hundred and forty, give or take. Yes, I see the reasoning.

Anyway, I end up with “Wasteland” by 10 Years (2005) in my morning mental music streaming. It’s a song about intentions. Inspired by someone dealing with drug addiction. We could easily make the case that the U.S. — even the world — is dealing with addiction. Addictions to greed. Money. Power. War. Addictions twist and malign intentions. Inculcate bad habits, policies, and practices. Bad results follow.

Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask. Get the vax. Unless your addictions to death, suffering, and hatred stop you. Here’s the music. Gonna go get some coffee. Don’t call it an addiction, though. Just a friendly relationship. Cheers

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Confloofporary

Confloofporary (floofinition) – Animals sharing a location or existence at the same time, especially in regards to household pets.

In use: “Jade lived for twenty-one years, counting a Samoyed (Max) as her confloofporary, along with three other cats — Rocky, Samwell, and Trace — a hamster, several lizards, and a parrot, along with five humans.”

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The Beard Dream

The weirdest damn dream. Well, dreams tend to be. At least in my world.

I was looking into a mirror. There was my gorgeous younger self (hah!) looking back. Mustache and goatee in place. Dark brown, almost black, because I was young.

My beard grew. Came in nicely along my jaw line. I admired it in the mirror. I liked that mirror. Then it crept up my cheeks and down my neck, growing fuller but remaining dark. Still liked it. But was chuckling. I could never grew a beard that full. Always rued that shortcoming.

The beard’s downward creep stopped at the bottom of my neck. Its upward growth continued. My mouth was bearded over. Then my nostrils. It covered my cheeks up to my eyes.

I was laughing. Looks like I need to trim my beard around my nose and mouth, I told myself. No one could see either of them.

Dream end.

As a bonus, another short dream followed. Short as a webisode of a net series, if you catch my meaning.

I was in a fighting style clothing such as what the Saxons wore around 1,000 A.D. (or common era), if my television history is correct. Standing out there by myself, with water, like canals, on either side, others approached me. Asked if I would take over. Don’t know what it was I was taking over. I guess I knew in my dream.

Anyway, I declined. They walked away. I basically stayed where I was. Twice more, they approached and I declined. The fourth time, I accepted. I said, okay, I’ll do it. I’ll lead.

Dream end.

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A Nail in the Head – A Dream

I was at some corporate headquarters. A takeover had just been completed. Two others — women — and I were there to go through boxes of stuff. We were part of the company which had just been taken over. But the boxes were from our old company as well as other companies our new corporate masters had previously taken over.

Our boxes were the usual eclectic mix from a software company that had hundreds of computers and monitors for testing. Cables, keyboards, hard drives, zip drives, cassettes, collateral electronic equipment, and tools — small screwdrivers and pliers for working on computers. We were working in a large, open and carpeted space at the junction of elevators and hallways. People went by as we worked, sometimes stopping to make comments. A fun atmosphere prevailed, one of both nostalgia and exploration.

Others began bringing us other boxes. These were from the companies taken over before. Go through those, we were told. See if there’s anything useful. Take what you want.

Bizarrely, first there were cosmetics and personal hygiene kits. One for women, another for men. They were quite fancy. Apparently, we guessed, those were used as a marketing gimmick, given out at trade shows. Using one of those, I washed my face and hair. Then I moisturized. I walked about, looking for a mirror to see myself. Others brought more boxes from my old company. What’s this stuff? I looked through it. Computer games. Purchased software. Why’d they have thought, they wanted to know. Well, some of it was because they needed the programs to do the work. Other stuff was market research, or about packaging and instructions.

I found a hammer and nail. On a whim, I decided to drive the nail into my skull, on the left front temple, right below the hairline. After a little testing, I decided the hammer wasn’t required. The nail was a ten penny steel nail. Pressing its tip into my skin, I wiggled it until it started going in. Then I pressed it firmly down until only the head and about an eighth of an inch of nail showed. I’d left that amount so that I could get it back out more easily. There wasn’t any pain or blood. A little clear fluid trickled out. Brain fluid, I guessed. I was pretty pleased with what I’d done even as I knew it was a little stupid.

More boxes were brought, providence unknown. Others saw the nail in my head. Why did I do that? To see if I could. Doesn’t it hurt? No. I’m sure it’s doing brain damage, I told others. I thought I should remove it but first, I started going through the newest boxes.

Inside these were men’s clothing. It was expensive stuff. Unused. I wondered where it came from. I asked people who went by if they knew. No one did until a woman going by said, that used to belong to the CEO. He was always buying new clothes. Because he liked clothes so much, people were also always giving him clothes.

I tried a shirt on. It was something beachy. It fit and I liked the style. Keep it, people told me. Take whatever you want. Okay.

I still had the nail in my head. I decided it was time to take it out. Finding a mirror, I seized it between my fingernail and gently pulled it free. It didn’t bleed but a little clear fluid trickled out. More brain fluid, I guessed again.

I wanted to put something on the spot where I’d pulled out the nail and began looking for medical supplies, going through the boxes. There were now so many, we had piles of them all over the place. More clothing and electronic gear was discovered. Games. Other software. Others kept interrupting with questions. People wanted to take some stuff. Go ahead, I said.

I finally found a medicine kit. It was huge. Very fancy. All I needed was a small bandage. I found gauze pads and tape. I was just trying to decide what to do when the dream ended.

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