I dreamed I was in part of a square complex where the center was an open court. I was on the fourth or fifth level looking out. There was a balcony that looked over the inner courtyard. Heavy snow was falling. I discovered when I went out on the balcony, a small box existed. In it at one point were my keys. In another time, there was a folded note. I unfolded it and read it but don’t remember what it says. I remember complaining (I think to myself) that a mistake was being made, that those messages weren’t going to get through because of the snow, but also the location. You’d need to know to look there.
The snow itself amazed me. It was so thick, covering everything in layers. I don’t remember the snow actually falling, just building up, white and pure.
I was at some resort/business conference, mixing business with pleasure. Younger, I was traveling alone but had met with a group, mostly male, but a few female acquaintances. No relatives were present.
Everything was going smoothly. Prizes were being given out, assignments made, directions planned. While off on my own to one side, sitting, I ran into a former female boss. She asked about my health. I told her about my tendon surgery, showing her where the incision had been made. Then I reminded her that she’d known about that. Agreeing, she wished me well and moved on.
I then moved to another place, a tall table with a chair, to wait for friends. A man passed. I knew of him – elderly, with silvery gray hair, dignified, and gay. I also knew his name was Michael, same as mine. We exchanged nods as greetings.
My name was called to pick up a package, I went to a counter cluttered with packages. One was given to me. As I looked at the name, I saw the first name was Michael but a Spanish surname followed. I knew it was the dignified man’s name and pointed out that this wasn’t my package. I was told that the other guy had turned it down, so it was being given to me, and that I should take it and like it because it was a better package than what I would get.
I went off with that and ran into friends, explaining the package thing with them. Then I returned to the tall table and chair.
The dignified Michael passed several more times. I chatted with him, flirting with him about his plans. He was amused but kept quiet.
I then went to be with another group. More prizes were being given out, and I was again given dignified Michael’s package. I then commented that I kept receiving his package instead of mine.
I stripped off my clothes and was in a neon orange speedo. I decided to walk a back over to where food was now being given out. Although I was almost naked and was drawing attention in my bright speedo, I was comfortable, and heard women whispering how good I looked, which made me grin inside. I then got to the counter where I was given a third, larger package for the other Michael.
Dry, but cold — wintry — is how to describe today. Dropped down to 25 during the night but it’s now 45 F with a thin and thick clouds stewing in a pale blue sky. 45 is the day’s expected high.
First, I’m freaking ecstatic by the Supreme Court ruling striking down Trump’s tariffs. Now we wait to see if he attempts an edn around or ignores the ruling. I expect him to fully trash the ruling without expressing any real knowledge about it; the ruling goes against him so he will swear vengeance.
Now, too, he may be required to repay all those tariffs already collected. Trump will stall and lie on that, as he stalls so many times when he declares something is great, solved, or over, whether it’s things like the Epstein files, the wars he’s ended, or his healthcare plan.
Predictably, Trump also blamed recent bad economic news on the partial government shutdown. He also blamed that on Democrats, even though he’s in the White House and the GOP control Congress.
Of course he’s blaming Democrats. His deepest base will accept that because of their information channels. Indicators are, though, more people are turning away from Trump and his lies and policies.
Not surprising, either, that Trump seems to be preparing to go to war against Iran, position more war machines in that region. He probably thinks it’ll distract us from the Epstein files, the worsening affordability situation, and his growing unpopularity. Remember, this is a man who considers himself a unifier and ‘the peace president’.
I hoped to return to writing at the coffee shop today but decided I’m not well enough. Although much better, I have a sometimes hoarse, hacking cough, and breathing through my nose challenges me. Regretfully, I’ll holding off going there although I will — again — try to write at home. Meanwhile, my to-be-written list grows with new novel concepts. It’s starting to become as large as my to-be-read list.
Over on Mom’s Saga…
Per plans and agreements made between Mom, the social worker, and the assisted living facility, Mom was transported over to her new residence. Per their instructions to her, they requested payment. She said, no.
We the children are not surprised. We speculated Mom had a long game in mind. Agree to be moved from the hospital to the nursing home. Then refuse to pay. In her mind, she would then have to go back to her house. But for her to be taken there, she has to be released to a family member. We are all united that we will not pick her up.
We love our mother. We want her safe and happy. But she insists that she can live alone and care for herself. It’s been proven that she can’t. She won’t accept it.
It’s all hard words to write. Those are simple summaries of very long conversations between the five siblings.
This was why we pursued the 302 process. The county reversed it. They brought this on. We reiterated that to them today. Maybe they will learn.
It’s exhausting. Mom texts grandchildren at night. They text their mothers. The mothers — my sisters — alert the rest of us on group texts.
Sis has been magnificent, working on our behalf, working on Mom’s behalf.
That’s where it all stands today, Friday, Feb. 20th.
Here’s Arcade Fire with “Keep the Car Running”. It so ideally slots into my mood. I think Les Neurons made a terrific music choice. Essentially, it’s an Orwellian tale of a person having a recurring dream of being trapped in a city that keeps changing.
I went into a square space, modern but sparse, where small desks lined the walls. Windows were there but closed, the lighting was good.
It was very busy. I set down my laptop bag and set up to work. In many ways, this was just like going into the coffee shop to work, sans coffee and food. I found an open space. To my left, a young girl was set up with her laptop and focused on it.
I set up my laptop and went to work on my novel. After a short period, two very young girls came in. One looked Japanese.
Walking over they stopped behind me and stared at me. I glanced back several times, wondering who they were and what was going on.
Then they moved over to the young woman to my left. They seemed to know each other. I continued working.
One little girl tapped me on the shoulder. I turned with a questioning look. She said, “We like to play without making noise.”
I was like, “What?”
The young woman on her computer said, “She said, we like to play without making noise.”
Which didn’t explain anything.
The first little girl said, “You’re making noise.”
I asked, “What noise am I making?”
Then I awoke.
Thinking over the dream, I realized that my breathing was noisy and wondered if that’s what the little girl meant. But then I thought, no, this is real life. I wasn’t making a noise in the dream.
After being awake a bit and thinking about it, I returned to the dream.
Now the room was empty except for the one girl working on her laptop. I went to pack my gear but couldn’t find my laptop bag. I recalled where I’d put it when I came in, that it was sort of chaotic at that point and I had to find a place for it.
It’d apparently been moved. I located it beneath some clutter but when I went to get it, several young boys threw themselves on top of the junk on top of my bag, thwarting me. I eventually explained what was going on and get the bag. I found the whole thing funny.
I then went out to another part. They were being set up for a fair or a show. It was messed up in one corner where a young woman was trying to do one thing and a middle-aged man with a ladder was trying to do something else. Seeing what needed to be done, I stepped in and helped.
The young woman was immediately grateful. The man appreciated what I did but his temper was on edge from something else happening. He snapped out at other people who were in the way of him maneuvering his large ladder. I patted his shoulder in empathy, and he gave me a short smile.
He finally left with the ladder. I helped the woman return a small table to where it needed to be and reset a few things that were on display. A green awning was sagging down. She was trying to adjust it so I helped. When she did, I saw dirt fall out of it onto the display, so I shook out the awning out further away from the display but hadn’t thought about where the dirt would fall instead.
Leaning over a railing, I tried to see if it hit anything.
Dream end.
PS – I had another short dream where I had my eyes closed. Suddenly, I could see through my eyelids, startling me awake.
Here’s what I remember of this dream — but I ‘sense’ there was something more before this part.
A light purple light flashed, almost like lightning.
I said to myself, I need to align and balance my chakras.
Then I said, no, I need to heal my chakras.
Instantly, I was at the beginning of this huge music festival. The sun was shining. Young, I was part of a crowd of hundreds of thousands eagerly rushing in to hear the music, which was just beginning on stage.
I woke up thinking, wow. My entire body felt like it’d been given a huge boost of energy.
Sunlight streams in through the open blinds. Winter snow melts away as light clouds cruise through a blue field.
My wife sits up. “This would be a good day for our roasted veggie soup.”
The roasted vegetable soup is all about potatoes, carrots, broccoli, and garlic. After quartering, cubing, slicing, the veggies are rubbed with salt, pepper, olive oil, and turmeric roasted at 425 degrees. Rubbed with oil and housed in foil, the garlic is roasted with them.
When the vegetables are done roasting thirty-five minutes later, the garlic cloves are released and added to the vegetables. They all go into a big pot. Two quarts of mushroom broth is added. Boil, then simmer or thirty minutes.
As they boil, biscuits are rolled out and baked.
Such wonderful smells flavor the air. This is when our house is at its best as a home.
Our big snowstorm is over! We’re melting out of it. Sunshine rules although washed gray clouds coil and twine on windbound courses of the snowy mountains. More snow is expected tomorrow morning, and rain is forecast for tomorrow afternoon.
How many inches we got yesterday depends on what part of town you’re in. One section saw twelve. We saw seven at our house, sunshine reduced it to three fast.
It’s 35 F now. Three hours ago, it was 26. The high is expected to be 41.
Ah, time. Enormous time was spent texting sisters about Mom’s situation. We’re frustrated and sad and often feel helpless. I think the people at the hospital and the social workers understand this and are doing their best. I think Mom is, too. As someone commented, there’s a lot of relationship history built into this moment. Mom and Frank were firm on their choices; they were not moving into assisted living.
‘Water under the bridge’ is the easy way to dismiss it all, but that water runs deeper than it first appears.
Things will be resolved with Mom but it won’t be a resolution that any of us want to own. It won’t satisfy anyone involved. At least for now, the short term. Perhaps, in a year, it’ll be different. What am I saying? It will be different. The greater question is, how will it be different?
I spent a lot of time this morning reading about the EPA’s Endangerment Finding EPA decision. While it’s an agency decision, deeper implications arise about short-term and long-term effects and the government’s role and responsibility to mitigate them. Beyond that, we have established history of how the Clean Air Act helped us become healthier. When we’re healthier, we’re happier and more productive. Yet — here we are, mired in controversy.
My views about what’s going on politically are also tainted with his use of the military. I don’t approve of that.
And my views are tarnished because history says what tariffs will and won’t do, and the majority of economic experts agree. Yet, Trump and his administration is doing the opposite.
It’s the same pattern with COVID-19, and now the same with vaccinations and the measles outbreaks. I ask myself, what will it take, and end up, nodding, yes, FAFO. That’s just how some minds work.
I’m disappointed, too, that MAGA supporters lambast President Biden for what they perceived as his mental and physical limitations, and yet treat Trump as though he’s a gift from God. And yes, I understand the role of social media and information bubbles, and news spin. But understanding those doesn’t alleviate my disappointment, conversely enhancing my frustration and disappointment.
I feel like I’m on the sidelines in many ways, watching, commenting, but removed, and maybe too insulated and isolated. It’s no surprise that The Neurons brought John Lennon with “Watching the Wheels” into my morning mental music stream.
May peace and grace get through to you and carry you on through the fray to better times.
Wednesday, February 11, 2026, and it feels like spring is launching in Ashland. Let’s call it a false spring. 51 F with unchallenged blue skies and sunshine, 60 F is the expected high. Papi would be so happy, except a balmy breeze, which chases him back inside to nap his misery away.
I have dental surgery tomorrow, disrupting the normal flow, and spent time this morning responding to texts about Mom’s mental issues. Connecting dots, my thoughts turned toward an overheard conversation from yesterday.
Sitting in the coffee shop, typing and thinking, two women of about my age shared a table to my right. Music and conversations were cooking but now the room was empty. The two women’s conversation floated to me through the sudden quiet.
One chatted for a while about health concerns regarding her mother, daughter, and herself. The tone changed a little as the other one talked about her concerns over Trump’s policies, ICE, and the general news tone, which she referenced as ‘disturbing’.
The first woman agreed with her and they both addressed concerns about being tired and depressed. Then they touched hands and smiled, telling each other how much it meant to meet and have moments like this.
I studiously tried to stay out of their circle. But one glanced at me and smiled as they rose to leave. Smiling back, I said, “I hope you have a beautiful day.” Thanking me, she wished the same for me.
Their conversation resonated because it feels like an echo of my life, and other people I know. We’re all sailors trying to navigate change. Some of it is about aging, maturing, dying, not necessarily depressing but certainly generally somber matters. Norms for me and them are shifting, and so are expectations. Our emotions become compressed under the loads we carry.
With all that rolling through me, along with dreams, The Neurons’ morning mental music stream offering is Harry Styles singing, “As It Was”.
Chorus
In this world, it’s just us You know it’s not the same as it was In this world, it’s just us You know it’s not the same as it was As it was, as it was You know it’s not the same
That about sums up my reflections this morning: it’s not the same.
Hope peace and grace find and carry you forward into a better future.
Michael Seidel, writer 