Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
The worst thing was when the wall between time cracked. Seeing the future, he began remembering it, and then started living his life for it, scaring everyone else, because they remembered nothing of the future.
Hell, they barely recalled the past.
That left him alone. Terrible ideas teased him. If no one remembered the future or the past, did now really matter?
First, I was in a class that was finishing. Big classroom, many students, in a large and modern school. Once done, you’d advance to a higher level, or graduate and leave.
I wanted to advance and felt certain that I would. When it was announced that I would be part of the advancing class, I was very pleased; it was a welcome shift from recent dreams where I was consistently passed over. The male instructor then further commented that I had more credits than needed by a large number. My ego ballooned when I heard that.
A dozen were selected for advancing, including me. All the others were females. We had to share beds, which seemed peculiar, three or four to a bed. I slept on the edge of one bed, turned away from the women in the bed. One kissed me on the cheek and said, “Meet me in the break room.”
She and I went to the break room. It was supposed to be in the middle of the night, so we were surprised that the lights were all on and many people were doing things in there, mostly in discussion groups or studying. The women and I looked for a place to sit down. Then I was summoned to help move a large planter. Four people were already there, so I was surprised that they needed another.
Lifting it, I found it very light. All but one of the others then left. I was told to put the planter back where it was. When I protested, I was told that this was a ruse. The women had changed her mind about me, and was distracting me so she could leave.
I shrugged that off because that’s what I suspected was going on. As I was up (in the dream), I found a table and sat down to write.
The dream ended.
I doubt this, myself; writers are people. Some are loners (my preference) but I’m sure that some are social butterflies.
2019 Solstice celebration at my house in photos, including two (of the three) wise cats who attended (Papi, aka Meep – the ginger boy, and Tucker, the black and white).
Food – not shown – included spinach tortellini soup (makes me hungry to have more just typing it) and lentil, along with a variety of breads (including my favorite, an olive ciabatta bread). Dessert included gluten free apple pie (procured from a local store) and a chocolate yule log (from Market of Choice). Drinks were spiced wassail (with or without rum or brandy), and red or white wine, with coffee, tea, and hot chocolate served with dessert.
The log was burned in a fire pit in the backyard. My spouse, the woman in blue in one photo, is the force behind it. Cheers
We’ve been watching His Dark Materials (HBO), and mostly enjoying it, although the story feels like it’s rushed more than the books. But then, that’s why I prefer reading (and writing) books. I can indulge in my imagination more, and let matters (and story) expand and flow with fewer constraints.
Lin Manuel Miranda is playing Lee Scoresby, aeronaut, friend of Irok (the armored bear) and protector of Lyra (one of many). Sam Elliot played Lee in the first movie, The Golden Compass. Sam aligned more with how I saw Lee in the novel, so I thought he was casting perfection. Nevertheless, Lin does a damn fine job (not surprising for someone as talented as Lin).
Here’s the kicker and the point to this whole post: a man who looks like Lin Manuel Miranda as Lee Scoresby just walked into the coffee shop. After I stared at him, watching his passage across the coffee shop (which he noticed) (it seemed to disconcert him), I had to go outside and check – balloon? Large white bear in armor? Gyptians? Flying witches?
No; just Lee, sneaking in for a cuppa…and perhaps here for a secret assignation.
Who the hell knows?
(The weirdest thing: after he came in…he disappeared…)
Down south, where it’s hot, I wish you all cooler days and safety.
Up north, where it’s dark and cold, I wish you light and warmth, along with your safety.
One door is closing; another is opening.
Let’s go on through.
Impressions crept in on her, darkening her mood. His cell-like room felt dryer and hotter than she remembered the Sahara being. Negativity spiked from him like blackberry bramble thorns. When he spoke, words lurched out like they were freight cars in a train that didn’t have the engine for its load.
When he said, “The sun is up,” he expected her to reply, “It’ll get dark soon.”
Which she did.
In the gulf between their words were all the bridges that they’d found and built, burned and lost, and began and never finished, the metaphor for them.
I hated the dreams that I had last night. All were about being overlooked, forgotten, or ignored. All featured others being given promotions, honors, and awards.
Little surprise was experienced as I reviewed the dreams. I’m sliding into the dark side of my spectrum. Haven’t visited it for almost sixty days – or, more likely, it was visited and overcome. This week, though, I heard the dark side spitting and hissing at me, felt its snake bite sometimes, etc. Coping with it – fighting is the wrong thing to do (for me – your needs probably vary) (unless you’re me, of course) (and if you ARE me, what the hell are you doing out there?) and its impact, I felt myself losing the battles. Part of that is being forced to socialize more – ’tis the season (ho, ho, fucking ho). Socializing drains me faster than an old car battery with the lights left on (but it’s expected, why don’t you want to see friends and have fun? Why must you be like this? Oh, sorry, when I made this choice, I didn’t look at the entire menu, or I would have gone with something else. Sure, it’s all that easy, because life is binary, black or white, innit? And it’s all within our control.) (Bah, humbug.) (I should coin that.)
Well, to me (and these dreams), I said, fuck you, too (yeah, original – I should be a writer). I know what’s going on. Can’t quite shrug it off so much as cope and swore, whine and moan, and remind myself, this shit will also pass.
Coffee, stat.And maybe a scone, too. Comfort foods. It’s that time of life.
Michael Seidel, writer 