Day 34 – Periscope
Efloofonym
Efloofonym (floofinition) – Name given to an animal derived from a physical characteristic or where the animal was found.
In use: “Efloofonyms for dogs are often names like Spot, while cats are frequently named Fluffy. Both are sometimes given efloofonyms like Freeway or Stormy.”
The Luggage & Shoes Dream
First, the dream was in two parts. I dreamed part one, awoke, returned to sleep and had part two.
Second, it again involved military. I understand more about myself, though, like I’m terrible at socializing. The military with its rank and structure gave me a niche where I was comfortable.
In both dream parts, I was in civilian clothes and traveling alone (which I often did in the mil and civilian life, because of my specialized roles).
Part one had me arriving at a hectic place lousy with Army personnel. They were arriving and staging. All of them were in uniform. Many had down time and were waiting to move on. It was all out doors, and it was a mess.
For my part, I’d arrived, found a place for my two bags, left them, and headed off to find food. Then I’d figure out where I was to next go.
Well, after eating (which happened off-dream, apparently), I went to use a can. All the cans were out of order, which pissed me off (no pun intended). I wandered for a while in search of working facilities. I did find and use a shower, and then eventually discovered a working but filthy latrine.
I’d wandered a long way and had lost orientation, with no idea where I’d left my bags. I began that search. After a bit, I went up on a hill.
A person who used to work with me waved to me from up there. She came down to chat. She was traveling on a separate mission. I told her that I’d lost my bags and had to go look for them. Bored, with time to kill, she volunteered to come and help.
We went down the hill to a sort of ad hoc intersection. While there, she spotted a piece of paper fluttering on the ground. It looked like a set of orders. Picking it up, she read my name off it. She realized that it said something about what’d happened with my bags. With her leading, we went to see a man. She gave him the paper, and he (complaining as he did) gave me one of my bags. I was thankful, but she had to go. That was okay, though, because suddenly I completely knew where I was and went right to my second bag.
Awakening at that point, I thought about it all. The dream setting’s chaos and messiness bothered me, as did the fact that I couldn’t remember and find my bags on my own. I went back to sleep.
I was back in the same place, but order had been established. With chairs set up, all the troops were sitting in order. I had my bags, and the toilets were working. I also had food. We’d been provided with box lunches on the long flight over. I’d not eaten mine, so I had two big sandwiches along with other things to eat in a clear plastic bag that I was carrying.
On arriving, my feet hurt, so I removed my shoes and set the to one side. I had a rental car so I was basically going to eat and use the facilities and then hit the road. As I walked around, though, I worried about my hair not being in reg (I was notorious for that back in the day). I found the barbershop but it was busy. A commander and his staff passed by me. After deciding that I couldn’t do anything about my hair, I decided to eat and leave.
First, I wanted my shoes. I knew where I’d left them but they weren’t there. Irritated, I started searching for them. I spotted them in the middle of a wide, beaten dirt road. As I went to get them, an army PFC (female) was crossing the road and kicked one of my shoes. I yelled at her for that; she gave me a dirty look. I then got my shoes (loafers, as I was still in civies), put them on, and went to a table, where I sat down to eat.
End dream.
The Age
It was the age of toilet paper shortages;
it was the age of puzzle shortages.
It was a time of masks and ventilators,
a time when few had enough,
and some had too much.
It was a time of testing, of being tested,
and waiting to be tested,
and a time to wait for results.
It was the time when nobody could go anywhere,
and everyone wanted to go to work,
a time of confusion, questions, and misinformation,
and a time of heroic sacrifice and hope.
It was a time of worry and a time of concern,
a time to watch, and a time for patience.
It was the time when we lived,
and the time we died.
Old Soul
I was born with an old soul,
tested by reason,
I will not fold.
You can’t sway me
with money,
you can’t buy me
with gold.
I can’t be timid,
I must be bold.
You can say what you want,
but I can’t be told.
That’s the problem
when you’re born with an old soul.
All I Want (A Cat’s Lament)
Give me strength
to not claw you as you sit
looking at me
and telling me,
“I don’t understand what you want.”
You’re not trying.
We both know it.
We know what I want.
You’re just being dogmatic about what you’ll give me.
Pig-headed about giving in.
Mulish in your approach to our relationship.
Drawing your head into your shell.
Sticking it into the ground.
Or scurrying, mouse-like, from my demands.
Slithering away from facing up to my natural superiority.
Following the herd about what should be done.
Instead of striking out on your own,
and going in there,
and opening every food that’s available
until we find one that makes me happy.
That’s all I want.
Puzzle Number 8 Completed
The Edward Gorey jigsaw puzzle was finally finished last night, April 15. We started it on March 30th, so it took a while. To be fair, other events have distracted us from doing the puzzle. My wife didn’t work on it at all until last night as she was reading and preparing for her book club, cleaning, cooking, baking, gardening, and organizing us (yeah, slacker, right?). (No, she isn’t.)
Here’s the photo evidence. (Sorry for the poor photo.)
A new one awaits. Two others are on hand. Three more have been ordered but haven’t shipped yet. There are also jigsaw puzzle exchanges being organized. We’re shared a few but have yet to receive any more.
That is all.
The Ticket Dream
The Beatles’ “Ticket to Ride” started streaming in my head as soon as I awoke and thought about this dream.
To begin. I was alone in my car. My wife was away. I was going to see a local play. It was a big, annual event.
First, I was dismayed because I was waiting for a parking spot and someone else drive in and took it. As I complained about that, I discovered a lot more — and better — parking available. I was pleased as I parked.
I then went to a machine to purchase my ticket. That would reserve my right to see the show. I put twenty dollars in the machine and then realized that that would give me two tickets when I only needed one. Riding the roller coaster again, I frothed at myself and what I’d done.
I walked to the theater’s entrance see what plays were available. Two were running. After deciding which to see, I went back to the machine. I put my ticket in and selected my play. It spit out my new ticket, and five dollars. I didn’t understand why I was getting five dollars back but I was happy about it.
I headed for the door through the throngs of people. Most were moving slow; impatient, I cut around a group of four men, telling them, “Excuse me,” as I did, as one veered into my path.
That guy laughed. “Oh, look at this guy, hurrying, like he’s special, like we’re not all going to the same place.”
He, a bald, bearded, stocky white man, irritated me, but I put that behind me and got in line. We advanced until I was the next one in line. Then the ticket taker, a young, tall man in a red uniform, announced, “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m afraid that I have to announce that there are no more seats. The theater is closed. I’m sorry.”
Protests about having tickets rose. The young man spoke directly to me. “They do this every year. They oversell tickets and then people are turned away at the door.”
Disappointed, I made my way to the my car and then went off.
Using dream rules, I was now in a huge, crowded room. I had a twin bed with a light blue bedspread, one of hundreds, maybe thousands, of such beds.
I was kneeling by my bed when the four men came up who I’d passed before. The bearded one sat down on my bed. “Hey, get off my bed please,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because I want to use it.”
“Can’t we both use it?” He had a large plate of food. Saying, “Here, have some food,” he pour a huge portion of spaghetti and sauce onto my bed.
I asked, “Why’d you do that? I don’t want that. I’ve already eaten.”
“I just wanted to share with you.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ve already eaten. Besides, if you were giving me food, pouring cooked food on my bedspread isn’t the way to do it. I have to sleep here.”
He was mumbling something back. I was attempting to move the spaghetti. Noticing some partially eaten chicken parm, I was tempted to eat some of the food but pushed against that idea.
The guy began cleaning up, but he made a mess of it. The ticket taker came by to chat with me. Seeing the mess, he summoned someone to help clean it up. As that was happening, he apologized for the ticket situation. He said, “They do this every year. They really need to fix it.”
A manager, a Hispanic woman in a skirt and white top came by to see what was going on. Seeing her, the ticket taker told her that he was just telling me about the tickets. “They really need to fix it.”
The woman agreed. “They do.”
A tall and bald white man wearing glasses, came by. The woman told me and the ticket taker that he was the senior manager. Then she addressed the man. “When are they going to fix the ticket problem? Every year, they sell too many tickets, and we turn people away at the door. Why does this happen? It doesn’t need to.”
“We are going to fix it. You’re in charge.”
The woman was taken back. “What are you saying?”
“I’m telling you that the board met just now, and they’ve delegated authority to you to come up with a plan and fix the problem.” The man walked off.
Pleased, the woman looked at me. “Well, there you go. I’m going to fix it.”
The dream ended. Cue the Beatles.
Michael Seidel, writer 