Unmoored
Leaping out of the recliner, he looked wildly around the dark room.
Where am I? How did I get here?
Hunting for the ship’s control panels — they should be — there — he swung left to right and searched his mind for the moment’s handle.
Calm fell into place, followed by recognition that he was in his den. He’d fallen asleep watching television, but had set it to time off after an hour.
Relief swept him. Trudging down the hall to go to bed, he muttered, “Unstuck in time, Mister Vonnegut? More like unmoored in reality.”
Monday’s Theme Music
Rain arrived yesterday afternoon, bringing its evocative smells and sounds. Late in the evening, I slipped out onto the covered back patio with a pair of my feline companions to enjoy the sounds. Steady but soft, the rain imbued the night with tranquility.
Out of my thoughts and into my stream came an old Eddie Rabbit song, “I Love A Rainy Night” (1980). I came to know the song through my wife. We were living in Texas then, assigned to Randolph AFB outside of Universal City, not far from San Antonio. She enjoyed the song and frequently played it on our stereo cassette player. Hearing the song takes me right back to that year and place.
A Knowledge Dream
This dream could’ve been named a number of things. I first referred to it as the “Born to Run” dream. Then, as I remembered it, I decided the new title was more appropriate.
I was traveling by airlines in America through multiple, crowded airports. After going through Duluth, Minnesota, I went through Fargo, North Dakota. After Fargo, I found myself in a huge building. We’re talking a Superbowl stadium size.
Old, the building was well-maintained, with cavernous but mostly empty rooms except for towering gray cabinets. A woman introduced herself as a director. I was at a knowledge warehouse. Speaking to the air, the director told her staff to assist me with whatever I wanted. She told me to fill out my requests on a request form. The request form should include a learning objective. Catalogs of learning objectives were in the cabinets. I could use them to expedite the process.
Six other students showed up. They’d arrived before me but were coming to meet me and continue with their requests. The director asked me how I got there. After thinking, I said that I’d come through Fargo because that was the best way to get there. After acknowledging that, she departed.
I quickly completed a half-dozen learning objective requests. The other students went off to continue their learning. Thick folders for the first learning objectives soon arrived. Within minutes, I had a stack of them in front of me. Perusing them, I selected one for attention and started reading it as I walked around.
I found myself with a microphone. The warehouse was lit like a stage so I decided to perform “Born to Run”. As I was doing my performance, I realized that security cameras were present. Embarrassed, I quit my performance. Someone was trying to raise me, but I ignored him because I didn’t want to be mocked.
Wandering the warehouse, I soon found myself in wooded thicket. Movement ahead drew my interest. After some investigation, I saw a squirrel, and then a cat, and realized that the cat was chasing the squirrel.
I was summoned back to a meeting room. The other students were there. We sat at a table and talked about our learning objectives. More folders arrived for me. The director called for a few of us to go into another room with one specific folder. It was our choice which folder to bring.
Aha, epiphany. I needed to decide where I wanted to go, and it was a journey to a different, isolated location. I also had the responsibility to educate myself but resources were available to help.
Now, weirdly, the dream ended with “Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows” by Lesley Gore (1963).
The Paying Dream
I slept fantastically well this week, but had so many dreams. One that stayed with me, though…
I was shopping. At first I thought I was in a department store like Macy’s, and then I thought I was in a mall. I was looking at clothing and shoes, and picked a few things up for myself. When I went to pay, I couldn’t figure out where to pay. That exasperated me. I debated with myself in my dream, should I put this stuff back, just leave it here, or go on? Watching others didn’t help. I didn’t see anyone paying, and didn’t see any clerks, cashiers, or registers.
Without embracing a decision, I wandered, and found myself in a grocery store. Hanging onto my previous selections, I found a shopping cart, and picked up some produce. Spying a register, I hurried to it to pay for everything, hoping that I could there. When I arrived there, I pulled out my money. There was a register but no cashier. Maybe it was self-pay, I thought.
Then, a nasally female voice came over the loudspeaker. “We just learned that you’re not supposed to pay.”
I paused to consider that announcement. Was that directed to me, or someone else, or everyone? As I pondered, a young woman came up and told me, “We’re paying for you. It’s already been taken care of.”
“Who paid for me?”
She was busy collecting materials and doing things, as store personnel often are, and scarcely paid attention to me. “It’s been taken care of.”
“Who paid for me. I want to thank them, at least.”
The young woman waved her hand. “Don’t worry. It’s been taken care of.”
I remained mystified. She went away.
End dream.
A Brief Dream
Last night, one dream was going on when it was interrupted by a special bulletin. There was a flash of sparkling white light. A swarthy man with coarse features and long, dark air, parted in the middle but tied in a pony tail, called out to me. He seemed like he was in his late thirties. I dimly recognized him. He was wearing jeans and a frayed white shirt.
He said, “Come here. Come on.” He was acting impatient, gesturing with his hands and fingers, while his head was bowed, like he was weary of doing this.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m going to explain this.”
“But you already explained it.”
“I know.” Nodding, he turned away, but waved at me to follow. “I know I explained it but I don’t think you understand, so I’m explaining it again. Come on.”
I begin to follow him; the dream ended.
Afternoon View
Yeah, just thought I’d share my view of the placid Pacific today off of the Oregon coast. Not bad, let me tell ya. I can use to this.
The wine is 14 Hands red blend, btw. Marvelous.
Bent
He’d meet you with twinkling green eyes, a smile tugging his lips up, and a hand as large as a baseball mitt. Leaning forward, he’d announce, “Pleased to meet you. Hi, I’m Bent.” He always made it seem like meeting you was a special treat for him.
His full name was Bent E. Thompson. The E. was forever just a letter, and wasn’t fronting a name. A man so tall that he was always stooping through doorways, he’d never been in the military but he was as straight and hard as an iron fireplace poker.
Everyone agreed that Bent was as straight as anyone they’d ever met. Yet, after he passed, his swindles, frauds, and schemes started coming out like roaches sneaking out after the lights are turned off. It paralyzed people with disbelief. “Not Bent. Really? I don’t believe it. I’ll never believe it.”
Yet, the proof kept coming out. Funny enough, though, was the epitaph that Bent himself had chosen: “I’m Bent.”
Everyone was always wondering if it was a confession.