Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I had a terrific workout this morning, focusing on balance, coordination, strength, and flexibility — and successfully got my underwear on. Damn things seem to have a mind of their own and mos def did not want to be near my body.
I empathize with them.
Totally different environment for me. A young man, I didn’t look anything like the me from RL, except of the commonalities of being a white male with brown hair. I’d joined a household. I’m not sure what my status. I was given tasks and expected to get them done. I was working alone.
I was working alone, going in and out of the kitchen to the outside, as others came but mostly went. They ignored me so I only glanced at them, seeing who they were and so on. My job was to select fruit, mostly pears, to throw away. The pears were large, of the Bartlett or Bosc varieties often found in grocery stores, but larger than you’d find. Some were almost as large as my head.
As I worked this, transferring them from one location to another, I thought, why are we throwing these pears away? After examining them, I questioned what was going on and concluded they would be perfectly good to eat. Changing my process, I removed the tossed pears to a kitchen location and moved the rest of the pears there.
Then, on a whim, I made lunch for everyone. I wasn’t certain what to do and learned on the fly but made and baked a square pizza. Without planning to, I ended up with a house on it. As I did this, I encountered a bearded man with curly hair leaving the bathroom. Saying, “Excuse me,” I pushed past him, but thought, who is he?
I turned back and introduced myself, sticking out my hand as I did. “Michael,” I said.
We shook as he said, “Patrick.” But he didn’t call me Michael at any point in the dream. The name he called me was something like Metcalf.
Most of the people, including the head man, had returned. Seeing the pears, he said, “What are those?”
I explained what I’d done and asked him, “Do you think you can eat these?”
I cut one up for his inspection. As he looked at it, he said, “Where did these come from?”
“There were grown here, in your garden,” I replied.
He looked at a woman beside him and asked, “Is this true?”
“Yes,” she answered.
I gathered that he didn’t know what he was growing here.
Next, I showed them my house pizza. Patrick and others declared that they wouldn’t eat it. They thought it inedible. I defended the pizza but they refused. Shrugging that off, I cut some off and ate it myself, finding it delicious.
We’d moved outside. There were sixteen or seventeen of us on a sloping green lawn. As a sort of outside, I was on the edge and alone. A tiger approached me. Patrick said, “Don’t worry [some name], I’ll take care of him.”
Annoyed, I answered, “That’s not my name, and I’m not worried.”
They began talking. I asked, “What are you talking about?” None replied to me, feeding my irritation.
Finally Patrick said, “You haven’t said what you think, [some name].”
I said, “Why can’t you get my name right? I introduced myself to you. I’m Michael. And I can’t say what I think because none of you would tell me what you’re talking about.”
The head guy said, “We’re talking about how we would summarize 2022. What would you say about it?”
After a second of thought, I said, “I’d call it one of the best years in the last fifty years.” I was saying that to get a rise out of them because they’d been saying that it was a bad year. Then, doing the math, because ‘fifty’ was an impulse, I realized that fifty years ago was when I turned sixteen.
Dream end.
Floofhood (floofinition) – The state or period of being a floof.
In use: “Some humans enter floofhood after dying and being reborn, if they’re lucky (because there’s a waiting list); others are usually reborn as a mineral, such as granite, which is unfortunate, as properties may carry over into the next incarnation.”
I had a large new home which made me proud and happy. Then, dream switch, I was visiting with Mom.
Mom wasn’t home. She and the girls were out. I was about my current age. Mom’s home was the small brick ranch style house where I lived from 1965 to 1972 in Pittsburgh before departing.
In the dream, she had coats hanging up outside, like on a clothes line that stretched from the house to a pole by the street. It was a temporary thing, but she’d had this going on for several days, and it bothered me. When it lightly rained and the rain then turned to ice, I decided that I needed to move them into the garage. However, the garage still needed to house Mom’s car. It was a one-car garage, so that would be a challenge.
Going through the garage, considering angles and materials, I began thinking about how I could do it. My little sisters (who had been out with Mom) arrived and commented on my plans, expressing doubts that it could be done. (They were their current ages and appearances, and in the dream, I wondered if they as little girls were with Mom while their adult selves were present in the garage.) I was gaining confidence that it could, then, and passed off their objections with jokes. They left.
As progress was being made, TC arrived. He and I had been stationed at Onizuka together. The same rank, he retired a few years after I did and moved away.
In the dream, he was coming for a visit. I was expecting him. He showed up in an exoctic burnt orange car, not the kind of vehicle that he would ever drive. He had young twin children with him. I played with them as we exchanged greetings. The car then went off and I realized that he’d been dropped off.
I returned to working on hanging the coats in the garage. I could show progress. TC asked what beers I had. I’d been planning that moment and replied as a joke with the names of a number of cheap American beers such as PBR, Schlitz, and Old Milwaukee. He always drank Miller Lite, and I knew that’s what he wanted.
Then, in a move that surprised me, he said he was going to the neighbor’s house. He said he and the neighbor were friends. As we discussed this, I stepped outside. The light rain had ceased. A car drove by on the street. Dusk was falling. My Mom’s neighbor was at a table in his yard, waiting for TC, who walked toward him.
The dream ended.
Memories,
I make them now,
so far my brain hasn’t forgotten how.
Time shoots by in a quickening blast
and I recall with fondness a nebulous past.
Starry-eyed and glittery mind, I used to look ahead.
Now, sometimes, it’s wearying getting out of bed.
My oceans of thoughts seem dark but calm,
a prelude, or harbinger, of a once-remembered song.
I seek comfort, I seek reminders, I seek the past,
even though I know, like the future,
it never lasts.
Do you ever go into a restaurant and say to yourself, “I am so hungry, I’m starving,” and vow to get whatever you want, including dessert, but then, ordered something sensible and healthy instead, because, you know, you’re an adult and need to take care of your body?
Yeah, me, neither.
Michael Seidel, writer 