Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

Out walking on break today, a Honda Civic passed.

1983, and silver, I saw. As sis had.

Sis’s Honda suffered from cancer rust. This one was in good shape. A Sarah Lawrence College decal was on the back window.

I was taken back. I’ve never been to Sarah Lawrence College, but it’s been in pop culture in sufficient settings that I knew it’s located in New York city. How did that car with that decal end up almost all the way across the nation, in Ashland, Oregon?

I wondered about the car’s history. Was it a gift to a student freshman attending Sarah Lawrence College? Conversely, maybe they bought it for themselves after graduating and beginning a new job. Maybe, though, the car was located here, and a Sarah Lawrence grad bought the car and put their alma mater on the window.

So many questions. When I returned to the coffee shop, I did a distance check between here and Sara Lawrence College: 2901 miles via I80. Take note, though: there’s a lot of construction enroute between here and there, and toll roads. But traffic is light. It’ll take just under 42 hours if you drive straight there.

I wonder if the car would make it. I imagined it returning to its home, like salmon returning to their spawning waters. Then it all veered along science fiction lines and became a tale about cars gaining intelligence and becoming homesick for their first owners, and then seeking them out.

Guess I’ll call it “Tires & Wheels”. That’s the name of the two main characters: a red and white 1985 Chevy K10 pickup called Tires and a 1983 silver Honda Civic named Wheels.

You know what? I think it’s a love story as much as an adventure.

Frida’s Wandering Thoughts

I was on a mission. Leaping into the car, I drove down to the library. Fingers crossed, baby, fingers crossed. See, I finished a puzzle last year. Last month. The other day. Munda. Twosda, we took the puzzle apart, packed it up, and turned it ino the library from whence it came. Wezda, I discovered a piece had been left out.

Well, that sucked. The library was closed that day. I told my wife and set it aside. She agreed with me, “We must get that piece back into the box.” Way we talked about it, it was a whole Indiana Jones adventure in the making.

Tursda arrived, and we forgot about the piece until that night. Then a big Homer Simpson d’uh moment hit and I remembered the piece. So, today, I left early and took the piece. The puzzle was still there. Chuckling to myself, I opened the box and put the piece in. Whispers arose from the other pieces. “Thank the maker, our little missing green piece of window shutter has been returned.” “Praise the maker,” other pieces echoed.

I was very pleased with my successful mission.

The Celebration Dream/The Cave

This is a twofer. Like a dream medley. To the first.

It was a bizarre sort of celebration. I knew these people in the dream. Some of them were television characters. But none are people from my real life.

We were celebrating in the woods after working on something. Details of why we celebrated are unclear. It almost seemed spontaneous. We’d finished our work and were lounging along a gravel road. All were sweaty and dirty in assorted jeans and tee shirts. All were happy. Someone arrived with beer. Hurray! Let’s all have some beer. Beer was passed out. Someone mentioned some food would be nice. A large brown bag was beside me. I was told to reach into the bag, see what was there. Well, food was there! I passed it out according to requests — candies, chips, sandwiches. Just as we thought we were out of beer and food, more would arrive. So it went for a while.

People slowly took their leave until three of us remained. A woman, me, and a man. The man was tall, white, lanky, short hair, and wore prescription glasses. The woman was short, with tight blonde hair. The woman said that she was going off to get some rope. I gleaned that we meant to explore a cave. Nervousness set in. We didn’t have flashlights. Nor rope. Knew nothing about caves. But, we thought something was in the cave that made it worth exploring.

So the woman drove off in a red jeep. The man restlessly paced. I waited, fidgeting, wondering when she would get back, sometimes leaning across trees, sometimes walking around. The man decided that he was going to ‘pop into a hole’. The hole was part of the cave system. I didn’t think that was a good idea. Tried talking him out of it. But lanky man was insistent. Dismissed all my worries. He was just going into the hole. No, he didn’t have a flashlight but he had his phone.

This sounded like all kinds of bad to me but he proceeded. Went down into the hole, a rough circle in the ground. After lowering himself as far as he could, he hung, then dropped. He was about ten feet down. Too far for me to help him. I peered down in the hole, watching as he turned in study. He was making comments. Then he walked off.

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” I asked him. Basically, he replied that he was exploring. Then he went silent. Out of sight. I shouted down for him; no reply. Anxiety was taking over me.

The woman in the jeep returned. She had flashlights. Rope. I told her what lanky man had done. She was aghast. Called down the hole for him. We began trying to figure out how to secure ourselves and go in to look for him. But she was worried. She knew something of the caves. Knew that they were complicated, uneven, and extensive, with unexpected vertical shafts. We feared that lanky man had fallen into one of the shafts and was injured, maybe unconscious. But the only way we could know was to get in there.

But he’d taken his phone. I called it. It rang from immediately down in the hole. Like he’d left it there. The woman had me tie the rope around her waist. I tied the other end to the Jeep. I was going to lower her so she could look for lanky. We discovered that she couldn’t fit in the hole. I would need to go down. The rope was tied around my waist. I prepared to go down.

Lanky man suddenly appeared on the scene. He’d found an exit. Had left the cave but got lost coming back here.

Dream end.

Adventure Dream

This dream, one of two remembered from last night, was wild.

I was part of an intergalactic crew. We were a small crew. I don’t know anyone’s names in the dream. My commander was a female and not anyone that I recognized.

I seemed to be in a television show. I was younger than I am, and appeared nothing like I ever had, except being white and male, with brown hair. I had the strange powers of being prescient and a great jumper. Both skills were nascent, and I spent large parts of the dream trying to improve both. At one point, I’d developed my jumping sufficiently that I could jump higher than a pub’s wood counter, and hang in the air several seconds, apparently suspending time and gravity. I was still learning about it.

Meanwhile, the series’ story line seemed to be that our little band was trying to help some small creature escape the powers that would capture and experiment on him, and return him to his home planet, across the galaxy. We were constantly being chased. People were trying to ambush and cheat us. We were in several fights.

In one episode memorable to me because my character played a greater role, I noticed that our vessel’s systems were alerting us to being followed. I notified the Captain. Meanwhile, we went planet-side, to a small bar. There, we met with someone to make a deal. I don’t know those details.

I remember that I knew from my prescience that someone was coming for us. So I announced, “I’ll take care of this.” Leaving the group, I went to a front foyer to await our attackers. Cold, heavy rain fell through the darkness outside. I wasn’t a big person. Other men were standing in the foyer. “Are you waiting for a fight, too?” I asked one. He looked down at me and nodded.

The attackers arrived and I gave them a thorough thumping via my special skills. Then, deal done in the bar, we departed the fix, heading for our space vessel and on to our next adventure.

Strange, but true. Well, in my dreams, hey?

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