I was in a dark building, but then was outside it, adjacent to it. The building was red brick but I didn’t see much of it. I don’t know what I was doing there. The whole thing seemed murky.
A woman who reminded me of one of my sisters approached and told me, “I can do this.”
I thought, do what? What is going on here?
She then proceeded to quickly build a piece of wall of horizontal wooden planks painted dark forest green.
How the hell is that going to do anything, I thought. What is she up to?
She put her dark green construction up against the red brick facade. I saw then, it was shaped exactly to fit in that space, including the angle for the roof. Further, the brick building had a slot, and she’d included a tongue which fit in there.
I was impressed but still didn’t know what was going on, or why.
Then, though, I knew whatever she was doing was working. That just floored me.
Then she complained, “Oh, no, there’s a problem. Something got away from me.”
Trying to understand that, I got up and looked over the top of her green wall. Beyond it, I saw broad, deep blue water.
I also saw a little bug flying toward me. “Is that it?” I asked. She was talking more but I couldn’t hear her. I tried talking more loudly but she kept talking.
The bug was coming on. Now I saw, mosquito. Was that the bug she meant?
Just goofing around. “Linger” by the Cranberries floated into the mental music stream. I recalled my youngest sister once saying that she loved that song, and thought about how she had changed and how life had changed. This came come out whole a minute later.
My wife and I were our current age and traveling in her 2003 Gray Focus. I was driving.
We stopped somewhere to eat. It looked like a good choice but after we began looking around more, it turned out to be a mess. Tables were set up as if they were in a fine dining room but it was outdoors, on uneven fields of uncut grass. Many other people were just like us, trying to figure out WTH was going on.
My wife was very hungry and said, “Screw this, I’m just getting some food.” Then she stalked through the grass, where the food was in silver serving bowls among the clumps of grass. Finding some food, she took it to a table.
I was trying to tell her, “Wait, I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”
A harried young male waiter hustled to her, asking for her order. She replied, “I’m eating this.”
The waiter turned to me and asked, “What are you ordering?”
I was bewildered. “I don’t know what’s available. Where’s the menu?”
But as I looked around, I saw another family doing as my wife did. Noticing scrambled eggs in a bowl on the ground and a red plate, I picked them up and said, “I’m having this.”
The waiter looked both dejected and smug. Writing something on a pad, he left.
Eating some of our food but not happen with it, my wife and I returned to her car. It was cold outside by then, so I started the car to warm us up. I noticed ice inside the car and told her, “Look how cold it got.” Then I opened windows to let the ice out and continued running the engine to warm the car and clear the windows.
The dream ended on a view of us in her little gray car, waiting for the windows to clear.
Ashland, Oregon — Monday, March 2, 2026. A sloppy weather mix confronts the valley. We’re drying from overnight rain, sparkling with sunshine. White and gray clouds splash and fade over a blue canvas. We sit at 48 F with a high of 61 projected but they tell us colder air will arrive tomorrow.
The home quiet so I’ve been reading, catching up on news and digesting opinions about Trump’s attack on Iran. They’ll call the U.S. attacking but Trump did it himself, using only his staff and military. Who needs Congress?
Some are writing that Trump did the world a favor. Others are pointing out more cautiously, there are too many variables to predict what’ll happen. Trump himself is forecasting this to be over in five weeks. I’ve not been impressed with his forecasting skill, so I don’t expect it to be over in five weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised that in five weeks, it’ll be raging on and Trump will be saying, “I never said it will last five weeks.” And if it goes miserably south, I expect him to spin around and try to blame everyone else.
One thing I will note is that history will probably not recall Trump as ‘the peace president’.
After that heavy news cycle, The Neurons called up Queen. “Hammer to Fall” came out in 1984 in part reaction to the cold war going on then. The song contains references to the inevitability of death that we all face, no matter how wealthy we are, or how poor.
“Hammer to Fall” lyrics:
Here we stand or here we fall History won’t care at all Make the bed, light the light Lady Mercy won’t be home tonight, yeah
You don’t waste no time at all Don’t hear the bell, but you answer the call It comes to you as to us all (oh) We’re just waiting for the hammer to fall, yeah
Oh, every night and every day A little piece of you is falling away But lift your face the western way Build your muscles as your body decays, yeah
The Neurons’ song choice amuses me, because it makes me think that many did not learn the lessons of the last war in the middle east. Wait, the last one was Israel attacking Gaza, wasn’t it? So I mean the last one before that, when the U.S. and coalition forces pounded Iraq and Afghanistan and invaded them. Do they remember the Soviet war in Afghanistan, or when Iraq marched on Kuwait and President Bush launched Desert Storm?
Sure, this war will be the one that makes a difference. War can be an effective tool but needs to be a last resort. Clear cut goals and exit strategies are needed.
Trump eschews clear cut goals and exit strategies. He uses military attacks casually. You can sense his mindset — “We are the most powerful nation in the world so no one else will dare attack us.”
History has shown that extremists rarely take that mindset. They’re willing to inflict pain for the sake of pain as payback for the pain war caused them. So yes, Iran may lose big ballistic missiles, navy ships and fighter aircraft, but the danger of terrorism will grow. At least, that’s how it often happened in the past.
May peace and grace find you today, and may we learn from our mistakes, and actually stop doing what didn’t work before, and start doing something that makes a difference.
Dreamed I was at a fancy business dinner. Large, round white tables set across a ballroom, bar in the corner. I’d just arrived and set up was underway. Two of my previous bosses were there. The fete was due to begin in an hour or so.
Participants, including me, had been asked to create some entertainment. I’d created a word jumble. Then my former boss said, “And please provide an answer sheet.”
Uh oh. I hadn’t created that. I went to get the notebook where I’d made it, knowing that I used one of those black and white lab notebooks that I always favored. I’d thrown it away because the notebook was full. I went to a gray, wheeled, large garbage cans sitting there and began going through the trash. People asked me to explain. I reluctantly did, with a grin, and was met with sympathy.
One unfamiliar elderly woman came by and said, “I know what you’re going through. I’ve done that.”
Shrugging, I replied, “If I can’t find it, I’ll just have to solve the jumble.”
Dad was there, putting silverware on tables. He said, “Maybe you used one of these notebooks, Michael.”
I knew I hadn’t because the ones he showed me weren’t the right kind. But I said, “Good idea, I’ll check.” And made a show of checking a few.
That dream segment ended. Another began.
I went to a counter crowded with product and was a little confused. My wife was there, along with several others, including a man behind a counter. I learned they were talking about my hair! Some products had been ordered and had arrived.
I had my own things to do/try for my hair, here and back home, so I was a little puzzled and annoyed. My wife said, “Everyone wants you to look pretty for the wedding.” I think I dimly knew a sister was getting married but didn’t know who.
The man wanted me to try the products. I wanted him to back off but didn’t say anything. I suggested, “Let me brush my hair so we can see what it looks like first.”
I didn’t have a brush, mirror, or comb, so I used my hands, and then asked my wife, “How does this look?”
She hemmed and hawed, not able to decide, which vexed me.
Ashland, Oregon — Sunday, March 1, 2026. It’s raining and foggy in Ashland, with temperatures tottering around 50 degrees F. Not a shred of sunshine out there, and a high of 57 is expected. Spring is muscling in.
It’s a day of questioning for me, starting with what’s going on with Mom to what’s going on in the world and the nation.
I learned yesterday that another sister — our youngest — had been going to visit Mom, taking her things, etc. The youngest has been designated as our contact with Mom because she has the best relationship of everyone living nearby. I reached out to her to see how Mom was doing.
The youngest related that when she arrived, Mom was playing bingo with five or six others at a table and apparently laughing and having fun. Mom told the youngest that she’d gone to church, which she enjoyed, and seemed pretty content and happy.
After wheeling Mom back to Mom’s room, the youngest found clothes all over Mom’s area. Mom complained she didn’t have hangers. Sis pointed out that they’re in the closet, and told her, you need to look, and helped Mom tidy.
Then, though, today, Mom asked the youngest to bring her cookies — “Anything but chocolate chip.” Oatmeal raisin cookies were brought, which made Mom mad. She then gave my sister ‘mean faces’ and quit speaking with her. The youngest rolled Mom to the dining room so she could eat, and then left.
The youngest sister also related that Mom’s roomie is 95 years old with congestive heart failure and two ‘bad shoulders’. She had a hospice aid visiting. My sister suggested that maybe we should get Mom a hospice aid. That took me back, because there’s nothing indicated to me at this point that Mom is ready for hospice.
It’s just as troubling and confusing elsewhere in the world. Trump ordered the U.S. to attack Iran, a joint operation with Israel, “Operation Epic Fury”. While Iran’s supreme leader was killed, Iran retaliated. Americans were killed and injured. More critically, is this the opening that will explode the area into another war? Trump and his advisors seem to think in terms of gunship diplomacy and regime change.
Trump — the peace president, a self-made assertion that has Orwell laughing in his grave — said that the attack was to protect Americans. “Our objective is to defend the American people by eliminating imminent threats from the Iranian regime,” Trump said in prerecorded remarks posted on White House social media accounts early Saturday morning.”
Back in 2011, Trump said President Obama would start a war with Iran. “Our president will start a war with Iran because he has absolutely no ability to negotiate. He’s weak and he’s ineffective.”
Who is weak and ineffective now, Trump?
Protests in Baghdad broke out, with “Death to Israel, death to America,” being shouted. This smacks of the 1970s and 1980s, so it sickens me that we seem to be going into another war spiral. I hope to hell that’s not true.
As I sat with that information, news arrived of a mass shooting in Austin, Texas. Next came updated information about deaths in Iran where 85 are reported killed: “The majority of the dead are schoolgirls aged between seven and 12 years old, according to the regime-controlled news outlets Tasnim and Fars.”
Senseless killing, once again. I expect anger and hatred in Iran to rise in response. This is exactly where we were before, using violence and killing to win hearts and minds. It did not work then; I don’t expect it to work now.
BTW, remember when Trump vowed no more wars when he campaigned? Guess that promise meant as much as Mexico paying for the wall and lower food and energy prices.
The song in my morning mental music stream came when I first looked out the windows, before reading any news. “Rainy Night in Georgia” came out in 1970. The Neurons put it in there when I thought, “Another rainy day in Ashland.” I didn’t remember who performed the song and looked it up to learn it was Brook Benton.
I call again for peace and grace to find its way to us, and maybe it will someday. Right now, it feels less likely than it did last week. But things will change. It’s really just question of how and why.
Michael Seidel, writer 