The Bike Dream
Young again, my wife and I were visiting a town. Resplendent with cobblestones and old stone buildings, but in a warm environment by a large body of water, it seemed like this we were somewhere in southern Europe by the Mediterranean. A fair or festival was getting underway. Entertainment and food booths had been set up. It was briskly busy, in a pleasant way, with people enjoying themselves and one another but not so many people that moving around was difficult.
I went into a business, to a counter to make reservations for three couples. Entering, I had to follow a path prescribed by a red velvet rope, as used in theaters, and go through several checkpoints. I was a little confused about what I was doing and why, calling out to clarify and confirm it with my wife. But, yes, I was reserving three hotel rooms for six people. While this was going on, people were asking me to watch out for something I was carrying on my back. I never saw this thing in the dream but knew it was a large piece of art. The man behind the counter warned me (but in a friendly way) to watch that I didn’t break anything as I moved around, as they had glasswork hanging from the ceiling. There was much joking about all of this.
Back outside, my wife mentioned that friends said they’d been successful just getting two and a half rooms. That made no sense to me, so I asked her to repeat it. We went through this three times. As this happened, we were holding hands and walking up a hill on a cobblestone street. A man with a red bike joined us. A stranger, he was somewhat famous, and very good looking, with fine, Latina features. His English was accented but he spoke it well. He was walking his bicycle up the hill as he spoke with us, but then got on it and rode straight up the hill. As the hill was steadily steeper, his riding was impressive, especially when he did a wheelie and went up half the hill on only his back wheel. As he reached the top, my wife and I turned around to walk back down. We were talking and sightseeing while all this was transpiring.
The guy with the bike dismounted from it as he reached us and started walking his bike again, but he didn’t speak with us. He veered off, staying in parallel, and then released his bike. To our amazement, the bike stayed upright and wheeled ahead, but stayed with the guy, like the bike was a well-trained pet. His bike was red before but now it was black, puzzling me. Had I seen it wrong before, or did he change bikes?
Then, though, the man started slowing down to look at things. As he did, the bike sped up. I pointed this out to my wife; the man was paying no attention to his bike. We watched in astonishment as it went straight down the hill, crossed the busy street, and then stopped and stood still and upright in the sunshine.
Dream end.
Saturday’s Bumper Sticker
I’m always amused by sayings like this, when something is made as a binary choice. You can do a blend, you know — dare I call it a hybrid? — and work harder and smarter.
Unfinished Business Dream
My wife and I were young folks, in our twenties, in this dream, and very realistic to who we were in RL, including our clothes. She was busy with cleaning. I was tinkering with the kitchen faucet, which wasn’t going well. I’d change one thing and it would start spraying sideways. Something else would be adjusted, causing the water to shoot straight up. But I was determined: I will fix this. Yet, I was laughing, telling my wife as the water shot off in a new strange arc, “Check this out.” Unbelievable.
Surrendering to that temporarily because I thought I needed to think about what to do, I went off for more DIY. I’d noticed a younger person holding up a wall in the corner of another room. That might be something that I needed to address. I went in there and asked them about the situation. They were holding up the wall because it would fall over if they didn’t. “Let me see,” I said. “Step back.”
They did. The wall started toppling over.
The two of us jumped in and held it up. “But is it the wall coming down or just, like, wallpaper?” I asked. I thought that’s what I’d actually seen. We tentatively released the wall, confirming that it wasn’t the wall coming down, but just the cover.
Then I was arriving at work. Dressed in a suit with tie, I joined others in a small but well-lit office with lots of windows. “Hello, Michael, about time you got here,” I heard. Stepping into a small office where the voice seemed to emanate, I found the one accosting me was Jeffrey Donovan, of “Burn Notice” and other television shows and movies. “I’m your new boss,” he cheerfully informed me. “You’re working for me now.”
Then, I was arriving at work again, sighing because it seemed like I was just hear. “Hi Michael, good morning,” I heard from Donovan. WTH, why was he singling me out like that?
I arrived on a third morning and sighed. “Hello, Michael,” Donovan called out.
“It wasn’t me,” I shouted back, lying. Then I leaned in around his office door. “How did you know it’s me when you’re in here?”
“I have eyes everywhere,” he answered.
I was done with work. Instead, I was cutting grass and doing general landscaping chores. I was part of a crew of four others. One was a friend and the other two were strangers, but we all got on well. While we worked, we saw an area where another crew had worked; we scoffed at the job they’d done. We could do better.
The home’s owner, an elderly and tall, white woman with silver hair who looked and sounded like Bea Arthur, came out and complimented us on our work. We pointed out where the other crew had been and told her that we could improve it. After some back and forth, she agreed that we could the other area, too. Happy that we’d won more work, we set to work improving it.
A large pool was alongside our work area. Others were swimming. Four young men staged a race. We mocked them because we thought ourselves better swimmers. Then we wondered which of the four of us was the fastest swimmer.
The owner appeared. We asked if she minded if we had a race in her pool. “Go for it,” she answered.
We lined up in our trunks. After counting to three together, we dove in and raced to the far end. I came in second to my friend.
Dream end.
Saturday’s Theme Music
Excitement is building. They’re forecasting some snow for our state and area next week. Maybe a few inches. Oh, heaven! Snow on the banks. We need it. We’re all worried about the heat, drought, fire, and smoke endured for the last several years. We’d like to avoid more of the same. Some say that last year was the worst because the COVID-19, wildfire, and smoke sucked enjoyment out of going anywhere or doing anything. But the year before, fire struck our town and heavily gutted two neighboring towns. Toss up, to me.
This is Saturday, 2/29/2022. Sunrise kicked in at 7:02 AM. And what a sun. Let’s give the sun a hand. Heat, light, very impressive display. The sky is blue forever and on. Whatever storms and clouds are lurking out there are doing so beyond the mountains that hem our valley. It’s presently 46 degrees F and we will see something in the upper fifties for a high today before the sun downs itself beyond the world’s curvature at 5:48 PM.
Today’s theme song comes from the film, Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome. I’ve used “We Don’t Need Another Hero (Thunderdome)” (1985) by Tina Turner before. It came to me today because I looked at my poor sick black cat and said, “Aren’t you a sight, raggedy cat.” Which reminded me of a line that Aunt Entity said to Mad Max. That lined up the neurons to begin playing the song. So here it is, friends and neighbors. Give it all or nothing.
Stay positive, test negative, wear masks as the situation warrants, and get vaxes and boosts when you can. I’m off to meet my maker and pour a cuppa, right? Cheers
A Computer Dream
In my twenties, I was working in a computer center. Pretty low-level lights, and warm. The computers were red, about seven feet tall and four feet wide, with black and silver fronts thick with instrumentation. I had a clipboard and was going about, busy checking readouts.
An alarm went off. Reaching up, I hit a large, square black button at the top of the machine before me. Almost instantly, I realized I’d made a mistake: that was the off switch for the entire computer center. I pressed the button again, thinking that if I was fast enough, it wouldn’t go off.
Another alarm began sounding. A female voice said that the system was shutting down. Groaning and cursing emerged from all over. My supervisor, a female a few inches shorter than me, came over. I told her that I’d accidently pressed the off button. She was all smiles. “It happens.”
“I can turn it back on,” I offered.
“No,” she answered. “We’ll just call it a day.”
As everyone packed up and left, I went back to the broad, flat expanse of my desk. Binders of fanfold paper were stacked on my right. It was my plan to go through them. A male co-worker came by and mentioned that he needed to find someone to sweep up the computer center “because the cleaning crew was coming in”. I said I’d do it. Finding the broom, I went through, sweeping piles of paper coffee cups and sheets together. As I did, I mused, weird to clean for the cleaning crew.
The dream ended.
Another Work Dream
Yes, it was another work dream, but it incorporated several twists.
To begin, I’d started a new position. A young guy, I was pleased and excited to be there. They showed me my station – ‘in the basement’. Although it was down in the lower level, it had plenty of light and my workstation was huge. Featuring an enormous semi-circle for a desk, I had a large modern monitor, new laptops, and wireless mouse. When I sat in the plush black office chair, I was enormously pleased. I was ready to go to work.
SW came to me. SW was an office manager in my RL. She came by and apologized to me for not offering me better accommodations. I laughed, replying, “Are you kidding? This is a great setup, better than my last one.” Nevertheless, she insisted that she planned to get me a better location, and she was working on it. That, to me, was a twist — an apology for what I saw as a wonderful opportunity.
Meanwhile, another young employee came by, a pale female with short dark hair. She’d been sent to take me around and personally teach me everything. The way she intoned it was loaded with sexual innuendo, instantly triggering wariness in me. The young woman was in a long-sleeved red and black top, and what seemed to be a very short skirt, and was attractive. We went about the office complex together. She stayed in my space, and I would shy back, as she introduced me to people and showed me the meeting rooms, office equipment, and files. The complex was a great, modern space. Everyone I met seemed happy and acted professional. It was all inclusive as far as race, the sexes, and ethnicity. I was pleased to be part of this enterprise.
We were soon the last ones there. SW came by to ask if we were okay locking up the place for the day. No problem, we assured her. I then struggled to remember the PIN to let me in to go back down to my office. I was stunned that I couldn’t think of it. But I realized, I could just walk around the receptionist’s space and go to it. It was strange; why was a PIN even needed when it was so easily circumvented?
My personal guide asked me if I had plans for the night. I told her that I didn’t, but maybe my wife did. She kept suggesting we could have dinner together or go have a few drinks, and I kept mentioning my wife. She finally said, “Well, I should put my pants back.” Then she stood up and started pulling on black pants.
I was aghast. “You’ve been going around in your underwear?” Yes, she answered, it’s no big deal.
The dream ended.
Michael Seidel, writer 