Category: Uncategorized

Driving With Dad Dream

Another slice of the nocturnal mind’s workings to share.

To begin, I’m with my father. Each of us are similar to our real life appearances but I think we both were a little younger.

I’m getting an award. I don’t know what it’s for. Dad wants to attend. He tells me, “We’ll go together. We’ll drive there.”

He gestures toward a car. A silver behemoth, it may have been manufactured in the 1930s and features a long wheelbase — think of a large SUV here — running boards, an upright radiator, and spindly, narrow wheels and tires. Its condition is show-car perfect.

“What is that?” I ask. I see from looking around that he has other, more modern cars but still several decades old. All are well cared for. A graceful, polished gray model’s dazzling shine catches my eye from one.

In answer, he says, “You drive. We better get going. It doesn’t have a high top speed.”

I am floored. At that moment, two sisters arrive. They want to go with us.

Dad is against that. Telling them so, he finishes, “But I want you there. Take one of my other cars.”

A large steel garage door which was previously unnoticed grinds open. Behind it are modern sports and luxury cars. “Take one of those cars,” Dad says.

My sisters are already clamboring into a new red Mazda Miata. I say, “Why can’t we take one of those?”

Dad responds with non-sequitors. I interrupt him. “If you want to ride with me, why don’t we take one of those cars?” I see a BMW in the garage. “Like that blue BMW. Why don’t we take it?”

Evasive as before, Dad basically declares, “I want to take this car.”

We climb into his old car. I ask, “Is this a Bugatti?”

Dad doesn’t respond. Firing up the old machine, I keep looking for clues about what it is.

That’s where the dream ends.

I tote this dream down as another manifestation of unspoken worries and doubts about my life and where it’s at. Pretty standard stuff. Retired from corporate and military careers, I’ve staked a lot of time and hope on writing fiction. I’m driven to write, but will it go anywhere beyond my computer? Or, as the dream suggests to me, am I interested in trying another vehicle?

As I pass over the post again, though, the driving theme raises new questions. Writing = driving. Whether I want to or not, I need to go on. Some of my choices seem taken away from me by some deeper driving force within me.

Looking at it another way, though, I can point out, it’s a silver car I’m being forced into, a classic which is in good condition, and I’m driving off to collect an award. Looking at it that way, my subconscious is encouraging me to go with what I’m doing.

It’s amusing how these dream elements can be addressed. Even if I find success beyond writing for myself, I think that I’ll always be wrestling with the drive and need to write, and my doubts. Just part of my imposter syndrome surfacing again.

2

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: jouncy

We’re mid week, but almost the end of the month. Prepare for October; it’s coming.

We’re also entering 2023’s final calendar quarter. 2024 sees us coming and is rushing out to greet us and lick our faces. From what I read on the net, many people are dreading 2024, because of the state of politics in the US and the elections which 2024 brings us. I tend toward the optimistic side of life, so I think the justice system will triumph. I think if I fervently repeat that enough, I’ll believe it can happen. Sorry for the early cynicism.

So many in the US are misinformed as voters and citizens. Slander campaigns are on the rise from the right. They love throwing out fake narratives. They know that people remember the first thing they learn about something, and displacing that information is hard for political campaigns. Increasing the difficulty of correcting false informatin is the right wing destruction machine. It blasts out falsehoods on high volume, looping it day and night, things like the 2020 election was stolen from Trump.

Repeating this information is enough to keep people fooled. For a historic perspective, look how Dubya’s team approached Gulf War II. Their marketing changed the number of people fearing Iraq, and convince many that dire military intervention was the only way to save the world. Twenty years later, we know how that turned out.

But before 2024 arrives, we must endure the 2023 budget show. The GOP reprises this tactic just about every other year. Twenty-eight times, they’ve shut the gov’mint down in protest or to force their way on us. Coercion and fear, hypocrisy and lies, innuendo and smears; that’s our modern GOP. Lincoln weeps for what has become of the party he created.

On to lighter topics, like the weather. It’s a chilly fall AM. Brisk is the mind-friendly term. Rain has been falling intermittently in the last several days. I love the smells and sounds and its positive impact. Like many things, though, too much rain can cause as many problems as too little. Always surfing the balance, aren’t we?

Cloudy skies rule us. We expect high sixties today. It’s currently 53 F in Ashlandia, where the trees are abandoning green in favor of bright reds, yellows, oranges, and so on. Yes, the colors are flaring up all around, a beautiful sight. Wisps of burning odors from wildfires still strike me from time to time, forcing me to the net to prarie dog it and see if another fire started.

Not all is perfect in our realm, though, even with the fires dying under the rain’s. Treatment for algae blooms in our water system has festooned the water with a sharp chlorine smell and an earthy flavoring. Well, it’s drinkable, and it’s running, and it’s not killing us, so it’s a good thing. Such an optimist, I am.

Dreams again inspired The Neurons with the morning mental music stream (Trademark ludicrous). Thanks to a dream involving driving cars, I’m hearing the pop ditty, “Going Mobile” by The Who in my head. It’s off one of my favorite albums, Who’s Next. Although Daltry isn’t on this song at all, it features classic Who touches, Townsend’s guitar work and heavy, busy drumming.

Stay pos, and be strong, and power forward. My coffee fuel has been administered. I’m ready to take on things like shaving. Have a good one. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

The net can be a dizzying roller coaster. Bad news headlines, followed by humor on a friend’s blog, then disastrous breaking news, chased by sweet floof photos, which give way to dire predictions, trailed by fascinating new scientific or historic findings, war and political updates, and book reviews.

I ride throughout the day, breaking off to soothe myself with my personal writing, and then releasing all the pent tension with a relaxing game or two (or four). You know, Wordle. Spelling Bee. Sudoku.

How different from my youth. We watched television together in the family room — ‘in color’ — so it was a consensus choice. Five channels were available: PBS, the big three, and one UHF channel that washed in and out on a sea of static. Sitcoms (“Green Acres”), dramas (“Gunsmoke) and thrillers (“The Man From U.N.C.L.E.”) entertained us, or the Movie of the Week, delivering Psycho, Seven Days in May, and The Sound of Music, among a plethora of others.

Then I consider how different my mother’s childhood was. She was a little girl in Turin, Iowa, during the Depression and World War II, eating popcorn and listening to a radio with her family, or going to the hardware store to watch “I Love Lucy” on the only television in their small town.

Reaching further back, I struggle with visualizing how it was in my grandfather’s youth. He helped establish Turin a few decades before Mom was born. Guess I’ll surf the net about it and see what I find.

Once on the roller coaster, getting off it isn’t easy.

0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: introspective

Sunshine glistens off a wet, clean sheen, complementing the air’s fresh smell with sigh-inducing vigor. Fall has been good to Ashlandia, so far. That could present further clues about why I like it. Summer in our zone becomes damaging. Blazing sun takes over, cooking the plants. Temperatures lunge into the nineties toward triple digits. Sweat pours off us as the heat broils us. Wildfires light up as summer lightning strikes parched vegetation. Smoke spreads, clotting our lungs and stinging our eyes.

Come fall, with soothing, “there, there” damp temperatures, the world relaxes; we the people relax with it. In my perfect world, I’d have fall weather but with the long stretch of daylight seen in the summer. That’s where fall fails me, as orbits and planes shift, moving the sun away from us, shortening the daylight.

Temperatures today will operate in a narrow zone. 56 F now, cloudy, 66 F later, with rains coming and going throughout the day.

A bevy of tunes fell into the morning mental music stream (Tradement teasing). Dreams sparked these. Such a myriad of wild, long dreams were experienced. The Neurons just rode the current. The song which ended up on top was “Who Can It Be Now?” by Men At Work from the 1980s.

It’s a true Aussie new wave sound. The part which The Neurons linked to a dream is a line, “It’s not the future that I can see, it’s just my fantasy.” That’s a true beat to my waking mind dealing with the dream mind.

Stay pos and hydrated, be strong and push forward. I can and will with help from my little dark friend steaming in a large mug. Here’s the music. Let’s enjoy some life. Cheers

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: mixed

It’s a mixed tape day for me and my moods on Sunday, September 24, 2023. Our air has gotten worse in Ashlandia, where the day is somber and the streets are quiet. Awakening heavily congested, with a mild smoky odor in the air, I feel like I’m not far from a roaring fireplace where WH documents are being burned ala Mark Meadows. I crank on the air filter.

Being congested brought the usual interrogation in my head. What is the cause behind the congestion? Potential causes are wildfire smoke, cold, flu, COVID, asthma, other. I washed my nasal passages with a saline solution made for that purpose, blew my nose several times, and endured several sneezing bouts. That’s all ended. None was overly bad; the wonder about the cause is more of a problem.

The smoke is worse today. Although it’s still only ‘unhealthy’ by air quality standards, psychologically, we’ve moved into the deep ‘this sucks’ stage. It does seem to be thinning now; the mountains are looking less opaque and blue. Rain is expected today. It rained last night, though, and didn’t reduce the smoke. Time to mask up again.

Autumn is asserting control of the our regions weather. Smoke and clouds weaken the sun’s glory, rendering the sky a bland white mildewing with gray. Temperature is 63 F under ‘haze’. High temperature of 71 F has been put out there for us. A few trees are beginning to transition. Yellows and reds are streaking along a few branches.

I’m generally in favor of fall, or autumn as most of the world calls it. Lower temperatures and less smoke are associated with Ashlandia’s fall. Fall is also home to Thanksgiving, one of my favorite holidays due to the work Mom put into it when I was young and living with her. She prepared all the dishes, doing so with pride and diligence, delivering wonderful roasted turkey with all the works dinners.

Today’s music selection foisted on my by the neurons came out about thirty years ago. “Acquiesce” by Oasis is rattling around the morning mental music stream (Trademark screwed up). I think a dream inspired Der Neurons to play the song for me. The dream was a long, convoluted piece about being forceful but getting lost. One line of song lyrics is, “I don’t know how to wake the things that sleep inside.” I was instead thinking, what’s going on in me? Something feels like it’s been awakened. I can see how Les Neurons put all that together and came up with “Acquiesce”

Stay pos, be strong, and work it like you own it. I’ve had a few drams of black brew, and now I’m feeling fiesty. Here comes the music. Time to rock on. Cheers

0

Saturday’s Wandering Thought

While visiting in Pittsburgh for a wedding, we spoke with some rabid MAGAts. Common ground was found around three things:

  1. We don’t like the country’s current direction (but disagree on why, except inflation)
  2. Term limits are needed for US representatives and senators.
  3. A age limit is also needed for all Federally elected offices.

Unfortunately, we agreed, the ones most responsible for the mess are also the ones who can effect change easiest but passing laws for numbers two and three from our list.

We know that the final problem is, these elected representatives of, by, and for the people, will never pass laws which make them more responsible to the people.

So, really, we had five things we agreed upon in our search for common ground. None of us were real thrilled with most aspects of the media, too.

0

Another Porsche Dream

Here we go. I dreamed about a Porsche last night. It didn’t belong to me, and it was two pieces.

Let’s step back to what I start remembering of the dream.

I was attending some function being held outside. Pleasant late summer weather ruled. A picnic atmosphere prevailed. I have no idea what triggered the gathering, nor my role. Although I never ‘saw’ other people in the dream for a while, sounds informed me they were present.

The first startling thing was the Porsche.

I came across the rear first. Mounted on a piece of asphalt roadway, the car’s rear was planted in a position that lead me to think that the car was plowing into the ground.

Then, almost immediately, I saw the front end. Facing in the same direction, mounting on a piece of road, it seemed to be emerging from the earth about forty yards away. An older vintage spyder with the top down, it seemed to be a model 365, a car which I like, gray or silver in color.

Oh, what they do for art, I thought. I wondered if it was original, and if it had an engine, and the crazy artist’s identity.

Announcements began from a person holding a megaphone. They were gauzy with distance. I didn’t recognize anything about them.

I discovered that the car belonged to a ‘director’. Little details emerged except the director was a a tall, slender woman with a short blonde bob in a red dress, no one I knew.

The director wanted somebody to drive the car, giving others rides in it for a fee which would be donated to charity. Were there any volunteers?

Silence answered. I spoke up, clarifying what was being asked. I pondered, was there another Porsche involved? Then I discovered the intact car in front of me.

Naturally, I was surprised. I looked at the artwork installation. The road pieces remained but the car pieces were gone. Miraculously to me, they were a solid car. I tried to understand how that happened.

“I’ll drive it,” I volunteered. The chance to drive a vintage Porsche thrilled me. This was going to be fun.

Keys were given to me, and instructions about my agenda. First I was to drive the car to another location.

The director made another announcement; “My car is dirty. I need a volunteer to wash my car.”

Again, nobody spoke so I said that I would do it. That pleased me. Weird as it may sound, I enjoy washing, cleaning, and polishing cars.

In a dream jump, that was done. I was driving the little spyder, top down, on a two lane road. The car, which is a two-seater sports vehicle, now had a big seat, and I had four or five passengers. I could glimpse in the car’s rearview mirror, and heard them chattering, and laughing, enjoying the ride.

I pressed the brake pedal to slow us as we came up on traffic. The car slowed some but we ended up bumping into the car in front of us. It wasn’t a hard impact. I was embarrassed and surprised, and hoped I’d not caused any damage.

The other driver, a bland guy, and I met at the bumpers. He looked at it and shrugged, waving it off. I didn’t see any damage to the Porsche, so I climbed back in and set off.

Though I planned and adjusted for the car’s weak brakes, I almost rear-ended another. This really dismayed me.

“Just as I thought,” I told my wife. “This car has next to no brakes. That’s why it took so long to stop. I’ll need to be careful.”

On those words, the dream ended. I came away thinking that I can step up but exercise some caution. I took that from volunteering when others wouldn’t. However, the brakes weren’t working as expected, hence the idea that caution is needed.

Conversely, my neurons were just having fun with me.

The choices seem equally plausible.

0

The Writing Moment

It was mid-Saturday morning.

I’d arrived in my favorite coffee locale for my writing session. Vintage soulful music with a jazzy edge was playing on the overhead speaker system. The baristas were busy with drive-through business. Only one other person shared the tables with me, a young woman in a far corner who displayed predatory interest in her cell phone. I’d seen her there before, never with anyone else, and always engaged in her cell. As usual, she was dressed in a sloppy style of what looked like pink and gray pajamas. Her solitude, isolation, and deep focus on her phone piqued my writer side. Oddly, I’d never caught her name from the baristas when her order was called.

I’d pulled my laptop out and had it set up. My mind was already in writing mode. I’m halfway through the first revision of a novel-in-progress with a weird working title, Yum. With my nephew’s wedding and the travel to Pittsburgh and other activities it entailed done, I was eager to delve into the story I’d written. Its speculative nature readily engaged me, and I’m really pleased with what I have so far.

“M, your coffee is up.”

The speaker was the barista, Nate, a good-looking, dark-haired man who seems in his early twenties. I gt along with him quite well. He’s always in a good mood, and we’ll often talk about subjects outside of coffee, inclding smoke and politics.

I headed up to collect my cup and discovered it filled to the brim. Grinning at me, Nate said, “You said you wanted no room.”

I laughed. “Clever.” I reached for a straw.

“Want me to pour some out?” Nate asked while making coffee drinks.

Shaking my head, I gave him a severe look. “Pour out fresh coffee?” Its steamy smell filled my nose. “No, no, challenge accept.”

Inserting the straw into the hot beverage, I sucked some up so it wouldn’t slop any over when I walked. Nate watched and laughed.

“Good job,” he shouted as I took my drink and headed for my table.

“Damn straight,” I answered. If coffee was to be wasted today, it wouldn’t be at my hand.

Time to write like crazy, one more time.

0

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: moody

My mood is sometimes up today, eager to get on with things. But I look outside. Smoke from wildfires filled our air overnight. A check of the indexes verify that we’ve gone into the unhealthy range. I can guess that; the light gray and white smoke obliterates views of the trees and mountains. Visibility is truncated at a few hundred yards. The smell, mildly chemical in this round, reminiscent of burning plastic, irritates my nostrils and eyes. My sinuses clog and spirits droop. I was planning to engage the yard with some cutting implements. That probably won’t happen with this smoke. Yes, I can make like a bandit, don a mask and get it done, but it’s not a critical task.

So begins Saturday, September 23, 2023.

Beyond the smoke, it’s 56 F outside, with a chance it’ll reach 76 F outside today. I’m doubtful about that, given the smoke layer blanketing it. The smoke keeps the sun out and chills the air. Sunshine is reaching the house’s backside, which faces the east.

Whenever smoke spills into the valley, like most, I search for the source. We especially worry that a new, closer fire has started. None appears on the map. With the lack of a woody smell to it, I suspected it’s a wind shift. Besides, we’ve not be warned by any government entity to get ready to pack up and go.

The smoke is snaking to us from the southwest, indicative of the California fires. This screenshot is a product of the Western Fire Chiefs Association website. Ashland, where I am, is directly north of the Happy Camp Complex.

My sister, L, is making a good recovery from her cancer surgery, but it’s early days. She received the flowers and expressed delight with them and the message. Fingers remain in the crossed position.

The Neurons are feeding the morning mental music stream (Trademark bogus) with music by Talking Heads and David Byrne. Today I’m hearing “What A Day That Was”. This song’s spirited beat and sound, and the stories conveyed, bolster my energy and optimism. The Neurons undoubtably chose this tune because of my reflections back on my nephew’s wedding last Saturday. Such a happy mood prevailed, bathing us with positive energy. What a day that was.

Stay pos, be strong, and carpe diem. I’ve carped the coffee; half a cup of the black sustaining beverage has been reduced. Here’s the tune. Hey ho, let’s go.

0

Another Space Traveling Dream

I again went through the space traveling dream.

This is a continuing dream series. I’ve blogged about it before three times, but I didn’t mention several other episodes, and the series fell out of fashion. Like a new TV show season, the series returned last night.

In the space traveling dream series, I’m in my house, but it’s traveling in space on an alien spaceship. I’ve never seen or heard the aliens behind this, as far as I know.

When I awaken from these, I’m often confused about where I’m at and what’s going on. Although in the very first dream space traveling dream, I thought it was cool to be in my house being transported by aliens through space. I never thought I’d make it to space, yet here I was.

Last night’s dream event was recalled when I awoke in my home office. I’d fallen asleep in a recliner while streaming the first season of Justified. Awakening, the streaming service had stopped streaming, a feature set when it’s been going awhile, so the television was silent. I was alone; Tucker had been asleep on my lap, but he’d left.

Bewilderment washed over me. I was confused about where I was. Some anxiety splashed up about forgetting to do things. I scrambled to think what I thought I should have done that I neglected. Was it about charging devices? Going somewhere? Feeding the cats?

No; it was about kitty litter. What was it about kitty litter? Oh, it was missing.

But wait; aren’t I on the alien ship? Does the alien ship have kitty litter? Do we need kitty litter in space, or is something else out there? I didn’t understand what I was thinking there, but then began worrying about kitty litter being in space’s weak gravity. I imagined it floating around, polluting the air, maybe damaging systems. Except, I was in my house, and there was gravity, so there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Except, was the whole house there? I panicked, thinking the aliens had carried my office away from the rest of the house. Scrambling out of the office, I found the house intact beyond the door.

I wanted to look out a window for the alien spaceship. I never have seen it; I always imagine the house resting on the outside hull, which is dark as a lightless night. I have no evidence for believing that, and don’t know how it’s connected to the alien ship. Yet, I also think that if I want to, I could go into the alien ship.

Coming up on two AM, I felt it was time to hit the bed.

The thing about this, it took a lot longer to write what transpired than it took to think, panic, and scramble. It was like, from the dream, I was thinking that I was somewhere that I didn’t expect to be and then had to solve the mystery of where I was and what I was meant to do.

Hitting the bed, Tucker joined me after a few minutes. Comforting sleep was rediscovered once again.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑