Category: miscellaneous

Back to Normal Dreams

Yes, dreams were no longer short, sharp, and clear last night. Nor were they elaborate productions. Last night’s dominant dream — the one most remembered — was about command posts were I’d worked. I was in the military, the U.S. Air Force, for over twenty years. Worked in command and control. Fighter aircraft, nukes, space operations, military airlift, air training, special ops. Permanent and temporary command posts were worked in Asia, the far east, United States, Europe, and Africa.

I visited several of them as a young man in last night’s dream. While visiting military sites, I was dressed in civvies. Often accompanied by people who worked for me in different places (including some people who have passed away), I went around to those command posts, remembering what they were, discovering what they now were, dream-wise. Don’t know what they’re really like. Haven’t been to a command post since I retired.

It seemed like the dream was hammering the point, hey, things have changed. Forget the past. Move forward. A sledge hammer was being used to slam down roofing nails. I said to my dream psyche, yes, I get it, which seemed to satisfy it. Then, in my dream, I went to bed, and to sleep, only to then wake up in real life, a trippy transition.

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Dream and Dream Again

First dream was one of those short, sharp ones my mind has been recently providing.

My wife and I have a home. Two stories. Not a house but part of a building. The outer walls are open to the other places. We’re making improvements. I’m pleased with the progress. As I go about, though, I discover that a neighbor has installed a central vac system. There’s an open outlet on a kitchen wall that sucks in air whenever they turn their system on. Well, that’s not acceptable. Who wants a hole making news and sucking air out of your place? I was in a good mood though. Heard the neighbors and went over and informed them of the error.

Off I went again. That was all upstairs. I went downstairs. Confusion reigned of the Abbott & Costello ‘Who’s On First’ variety. Used to be that there was a room opposite the stairs when you went down. Thought it was the kitchen. But I just left the kitchen. Are there two flights of stairs? Did we used to have two flights of stairs or is this new? Do we have two kitchens. I darted about looking for answers that didn’t come before the brief dream ended.

Second dream was long, involved, and anxiety driven. Mild understatement.

Wife and I were vacationing. Our last day. We somehow get separated. Where is she? I’m looking everywhere. Panic is rising like a thermometer on a hot day. I can’t find her and we need to check out and catch our flight. With time passing, worse fears that something has happened to her is growing.

I hurry past buses disgorging tourists. Among them is Jennifer Aniston as Rachel from “Friends”. She’s in a dress with messages attached to her with safety pins. Don’t know what that’s about. Deciding it’s not related to me, I go on.

Stopping to tie my shoe, I set my glasses down. A young boy with his father pulls his suitcase into me and then picks up my glasses. The father picks up his son and apologizes to me. I accept those apologies but where are my glasses? I need those, thanks. The child doesn’t have them. I discover them sticking out of the father’s shirt pocket. “My son must have put them there,” the father exclaims, proud, amused, appalled, apologetic. No problem. I take my glasses and hasten on. I must find my wife.

Anxiety growing, so does confusion and bewilderment. Where is our hotel? What room is it? What day is it? I can’t remember these things. I can’t remember our airline or flight numbers, or what time we need to be there. I can’t find the tickets or room key. Can’t recall how to work the electronic device in my hand. Seems to be a phone but it looks weird to me. Can’t recall what email account I used. And can’t find my wife.

Somehow, I acquire all our bags. I’m carrying something in each hand, on each shoulder, and on my back. Then, there’s my wife. She’s been shopping. I’m outraged. “I’ve been looking for you. We need to go.” She’s vague, disconnected. She’s been right here. She doesn’t understand the problem.

Never mind, we need to go. I find our rental car. We’re in it and driving with other traffic but there are no lane markers or directions. The road is slick and smooth. There’s no traction. The car is sliding all over. I discern that there are some markers but it’s all faded away. Never mind, we’ll follow other cars.

We reach a parking garage and stop. It’s inside a building lined with stores. I’m thinking, now they’re putting stores in parking garages, too. I remember my email account and suddenly understand how to use the phone to retrieve my email but, oh, no, we forgot to check out of the hotel.

Dream ends.

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Another Flash Dream

Recent dreams — or memories of them (probably more likely) — have taken on a flash story aspect. They’re short. Concise.

I dreamed of football again. American football, playing it. My team was a ragtag group of friend. Male and female. We had no uniforms. The rules were a little weirder, too. Our playing field was a funnel about ten feet wide.

The dream initiated me to the middle of the action. I’d been put into the lineup. Others doubted me and my role. Why me and not others? I heard their doubt. Shared it myself. I resolved to impress everyone. Show them wrong.

My team was down. Time was running out. Rain was falling. Desperation hung over us. We needed a first down. The ball was thrown to me. I caught it and ran down the field. Got almost to the goal line before I was brought down. Everyone responded, “That was Seidel?” Yes, it was me.

We huddled. I put forward an idea for one of the women to carry the ball. The rest of us would block. Straightforward power run. That idea was rejected. Something else installed. The results was a shambles. I made my pitch again. I was more forceful. This time, others agreed.

We ran the play. She was not going to score. I ran back and pushed her forward, gathering others to help me. We scored as time expired.

Did we win? We thoughts so. The larger question was, were we advancing to the playoffs? Other games remained in progress. Rain fell harder. We stood as a team, awaiting word. We were told, our record was either oh and three — no wins and three losses — or three and three — or six and three. We didn’t understand. It depended on others, we were told. Wait.

Dream end.

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Monday’s Theme Music

“Monday, Monday.” Some of us from a certain era will go on auto, bringing up the Mamas & Papas song. Or maybe it’s just me.

Today is Monday, the first of its kind in August, dubbed August 2, 2021. Our heatwave continues as our daylight hours decline. Sunrise in Ashland was 6:05 AM. Sunset will come at 8:29 PM. We’re again expecting our high temperatures to nip into the upper nineties/low 100s. Red flag alerts for fire dangers continue.

In COVID-19 matters, many of us are quietly preparing for another lockdown. Have some safe quiet gatherings. Stock up the frig, freezer, and pantry. Numbers are climbing. Vaccinations have stalled. ICUs are filling.

Enjoying the early morning light and wind, a 2012 song by the Swedish House Mafia began looping through my thinking.

Upon a hill across a blue lake,
That’s where I had my first heartbreak.
I still remember how it all changed.

My father said,
“Don’t you worry, don’t you worry, child.
See heaven’s got a plan for you.
Don’t you worry, don’t you worry now.”

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Of course, I am a perpetual worrier. No plan is ever perfect. Execution brings out more flaws. Others don’t share agendas, visions, and dreams. Clashes arise. Accidents happen. Nature interferes via disasters and disease. Stupidity, ignorance, and obstinance — sometimes by me, frequently by others — in my view, but this is my post — creates greater difficulty.

But I’m also an optimist. A believer in the long game. The arc’s inevitable bend.

Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Here be the music. Cheers

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The Fireplace Dream

My wife and I were visiting one of my sisters and her family. Partially completed, their house was made mostly of cinder blocks. I was looking down into it from behind and above. They didn’t have heat. They had a fireplace. Shifting perspective, my wife and I told them, “We have rocks that will heat your house. We’ll put them in your fireplace.” They were skeptical but we told them, “You’ll see.”

The fireplace rock seemed like a piece of broken cinderblock. It put out heat, though, lots of heat. My sister’s fireplace was back toward the house’s rear, away from the bedrooms. Because of that, most of the house wasn’t heated. They’ll all gone to bed, sleeping in one room to stay warm. For some reason, we had to keep the existence of the heating rock secret. Never understood that. But my wife and I managed to find another place to safely place it in my sister’s house, and then moved it without anyone knowing.

When my sister and her family got up, we showed/told them what we’d done. They were concerned that we wouldn’t be able to heat our own place. My wife and I laughed at that. “No, we have many fireplaces and each of them has a rock.”

I then took my sister and her family around, showing her our places. All were brick, with large yards. Sis knew of one or two, but I showed her five or six. I was letting others use these places. My wife didn’t know of some of these places, either, which made me laugh as I went about showing all the places. Some were hidden to others. I kept revealing more as we went around, opening doors to more, almost as if I was recalling them as I came across them. We then went about confirming that we did have ‘fire rocks’ in each of our places.

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A Multi-layered Dream

I began, with many other people, in a domed city. I was on the circular city’s perimeter. Spaced every six feet were covered holes. The covers were hard plastic. Opening one, I discovered water within them. My curiosity was satisfied.

We were aware that storms were going on beyond our city. It didn’t overly concern us. To the north, pieces of a golden city appeared just outside of our domed city. I, like others, stopped to marvel at it. Who built it? How was it built so quickly? Exquisite looking, with multiple levels, it already towered over our domed city. But more was being added. How was that possible?

I went with a handful of others to see more. When I reached our domed city’s northern exits, I could see that the city beyond was a holograph. There was no city, and it was pouring rain. I was baffled; why would anyone create an illusion like that? I wondered about motives and angles.

It dawned on me that we were being distracted from a danger to our domed city. Hurrying back, I returned to roughly where I’d been and pried one white lid from a hole. The water was higher, and churning. I realized, the water is rising. Our city was in danger of being flooded.

I needed to warn others. I started pointing out the holes to others. Directing them to take off the lids, I showed them how the water, now foaming with a faint yellowish tinge, was rising higher and higher. Meanwhile, a young man approached me with a U.S. military-style flight cap. He had a pen and wanted to write on it. I was baffled; why couldn’t he write on it? What did he want written? It was a joke, he explained. He wanted someone to write, ‘I went to command school and all I got was this hat.’

Not much of a joke to me. The hat had two stars on it, signifying it belonged to a major general. Instead of being silver, the stars were gold, however. That puzzled me; silver stars are always used on American insignia. I looked for a name inside the hat: Redmond. I recalled dealing with a Redmond. He’d been buying Dionne Warwick and Friends concert tickets.

The general himself appeared, a short and amiable guy with neat and wavy black hair. I encountered a handful of major generals in my Air Force career. This guy was more affable than any of them. I told him that I had his hat and exposed what the other wanted to do with it. The general thought that was a great joke. I talked about his Dionne Warwick tickets. He remembered wanting to go to the show but didn’t remember buying the tickets nor going. I recounted helping him look for the tickets, having the tickets delivered, and then a conversation with him about going to the concert. He vaguely remembered these things, he answered with a broad grin.

Meanwhile, water was almost boiling out of two of the holes and had become more yellow. I thought the yellowing was a serious sign of something being breached, based on a conversation I’d had with an engineer earlier. We needed to do something. Evacuate the city? Find some way to relieve the flooding? I asked the general for help. He shrugged, replying, “I can’t do anything.” I told him, “Yes, you can, you’re a general, you were a commanding officer. You know how to direct people and coordinate people.”

He said, “But I don’t know what to do.”

I replied, “I’ll tell you what to do then.”

The dream ended.

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Highlights

Been on a road trip. Three cities (and three hotels), five nights, six days. So, if I wasn’t online much, you now know why. I’m not one to advertise that we’re not in our house. I’d rather not highlight it as a target for thieves. They’re already quite bold and opportunistic without me providing some useful intel about us not being home.

We went north. Seattle. Nine hour drive. But we decided to break it up into two days. Something about sitting in a car for a long time, ya know? Doesn’t get along with my wife’s RA. So the first leg took us to Lake Oswego outside Portland, OR. There we checked into a Holiday Inn Express and had dinner with friends at their house.

Holiday Inn Express wasn’t a highlight. Apparently built for tall people. Very tall. Like, I’m but five eight. Had to reach to my crown’s top to use the coffee maker. Likewise, the bathroom sink was higher than my waist. My wife, several inches shorter, struggled to lean forward over this tall counter to use the sink or see herself in the mirror to apply cosmetics. Lighting in the room wasn’t great, either. Nice big mirror (a ‘skinny’ one, if you know what I mean). No light at it meant you’re looking at yourself in near darkness. Not useful. Bed was okay. Wife complained that her pillow wasn’t sufficiently hard. Had to fold it over otherwise her head just sank. That was just a night. No biggie.

Dinner with friends was a highlight. We were visiting them in their latest home. Lovely location and yard. Nice home, some dated features but they’re adept at updating things. The woman of the house provided us with grilled asparagus, rice with mushrooms, and baked salmon. All delicious. They served excellent red wines as well. Conversation was scintillating as we played catch up.

Onward, north to Seattle. Mostly easy drive. Tacoma was a slow-moving parking lot. Stop and go often. No explanation of why. Traffic information signs were there but either unused or gave us useful tips like, “Motorcyclists, ride smart to stay alive.” Helpful when you’re stopped in traffic, wondering why. Nothing on the information radio station, either. All this tech, right?

We navigated the craziness of downtown Seattle (not much different from Portland, Pittsburgh, Boston, Chicago, Frankfurt, London, Washington, D.C., SF, etc, to me, although saner than Rome and Seoul) to the Inn at the Market by the Pike Place Market. Everyone said that is the place to stay. It was okay. Good location for visiting the market but no advantage otherwise. Comfortable room, yes. Good bed. Hard pillows. Wonderful lighting and mirrors, although no skinny mirrors. Water pressure was okay but several minutes were needed for hot water. My wife said she didn’t get a good hot bath the entire time. I had good hot showers, though, thank you.

Highlights including seeing my sister-in-law for the first time in three years. Well, since her mother died. She’s doing well. I met her and my wife at the same time, and have known them since I was fifteen. Went to high school together. Before losing her mother, she lost her husband to brain cancer after a four-year fight. They had many terrific years together. I thought her deserving of that, as he was hubby number three. Number three was the charm. Besides those issues, she’s coping with a son suffering PTSD from his tours in Afghanistan. And she runs her own business. We toasted a success as she finally — after eleven years of struggle — was granted her patent.

She introduced us to her new boyfriend, an intelligent and engaging person. We had a good time with the two. Eating had something to do with that. First night was a terrific Indian restaurant, Kastoori Grill, across from the hotel. Night number two found us at Cutter’s Crabhouse. We didn’t have reservations but my sister-in-law talked them into seating us. The woman doesn’t give up. The next night, we were at Zigzags for a late meal. Meantime, breakfast on day two was at Bacco Cafe, which I found fresh and delicious. (My wife was less enamored of her fare.) Lunch for day three found us at Kell’s Irish Restaurant and Bar. Day number four, we ate terrific grilled croissant sandwiches for breakfast, picked up at Sisters in the Post Alley.

First day and second morning had us browsing through the Pike Place Market. The second day also had us cruising the bay via a Salish Seas tour. An abbreviated history of Seattle and some notables were presented, along with a glossy overview of architectural highlights.

Trip highlights to the trip poured in on day three. We walked down Alaska Way to the sculpture garden. Then up the hill to the Space Needle. We caught a break and were able to buy tickets to use in the next fifteen minutes. Boom, up we went to the rotating clear floor. Pretty cool. Fantastic views of Everett Bay, Puget Sound, Mount Rainier, Bainbridge Island, and the Olympia Mountains.

Next, though, was the Chihuly Garden and Glass. Focused on Dale Chihuly’s work with glass, the presentations stunned and awed. These were gorgeous creations.

For the evening, we were hunting for a night tour. Didn’t come up with that, but we did end up on the Seattle Tall Ship, Bay Lady, for a sunset tour. I’d never been on a sailboat before. This was a schooner. From raising the sails to listening to the various commands until finally heeling through the sound’s deep water to the passing water’s reassuring whisper, this was a relaxing experience. I strongly recommend a cruise with them, if you have the chance.

Saturday found us heading south again. Crawling through Tacoma. Stop. Start. Pausing to eat at my wife’s favorite eatery, Panera Bread, in Longview, WA. Then on down to Eugene for an overnight stop and shopping. This hotel was a regular for us. We’ve stayed at several places in Eugene but the La Quinta gives us the most satisfaction. Located midway between the downtown area and Coburg Road, easy access to either is available. Besides the location, the rooms are large and comfortable. Hard pillows, you know? Good lighting and mirrors. Fantastic hot water and water pressure, needed to rinse off the travel grime. On to home, and our waiting cats, on Sunday.

Of course there were good beers all along. Also good people, friendly and helpful. Was worrisome traveling with the pandemic as a backdrop. We frequently wore masks but when you’re eating, what are you to do, right? We were all vaccinated but discussed whether it would have been better to stay home. None of us are exhibiting symptoms but COVID-19 strikes quickly and silently.

I can rationalize it as a break we needed. Many will understand and agree. Others will fault us for falling for the pandemic and vaccine information, which they view as a scam. Another subset will see us as privileged, which I don’t deny. Still another group will probably condemn us for being complacent.

I don’t have an answer to any of that. We went; we took precautions. We sought a balance. Hopefully, we didn’t contribute to another spike.

Fingers crossed.

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A Dad Dream

Dad called me in my dream. Told me that he wanted me to be more like I used to be. “How was that?” I asked. “Silly. Goofy. Fun-loving,” he answered.

I didn’t know I’d changed. A lot was happening in dream world, so I ended the call. Part of what was happening were politicians making speeches. One was a woman. POC. Married to a white male with silver hair. Hubby was pretty much an idiot. He marched up and down the street making ludicrous announcements. I kept thinking, no, that’s not right. I heard the pol state, “I think I’m just about done with him.”

Meanwhile, I was going around my compound. Showing it off. Explaining that I had plenty of room for a number of people to love. I had seventeen homes. Most were new. Brick. Two stories. Large yards. All set off asphalt streets.

So I’m involved, walking around, telling people about the houses, showing them what is what, talking to the pols, when Dad calls again. In the middle of doing multiple things, I answered the phone in a silly way, like, “Hello, this is Michael, unsecure line, U.S. Air Force.” As I’m speaking, I thinking, that’s wrong, what am I saying?

It was Dad. He was laughing. “That’s more like it. That’s how you used to be.”

We discuss that for a few. Then he says, “You should get military veterans to help you.”

I reply, “I have some.”

Then, like that, Dad and I are walking toward one another, hanging up our phones, as I point out veterans and tell him, “I have all kinds of veteran helping me take care of people and the houses. They’re all volunteers.”

Dad replies, “Well, that’s good. It looks like you have it all taken care of.”

Dream end.

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