Tuesday’s Theme Music
This is it, May’s last day. It will not be extended.
Yes, welcome to Tuesday, May 31, 2022. Back to work if you were off for the Memorial Day in the U.S.
We’ve returned to cloudy and warm weather today. Woke up to 59 F after the sun kicked in its light at 5:38 AM. The flip end of the sun’s presence comes at 8:40 PM today. Before then, we expect to see temperatures of 77 F. Yardwork has kept us busy as the rains encouraged everything to “grow, grow, grow”, leaving us with an unkempt landscape. Great seeing the bees abuzzing around the backyard’s weeds. It’s a weed zone, where we let weeds proliferate. The bees love it.
Today’s song emerged from conversations with friends and relatives about the state of the world and the state of the nation, and where we’re going. Thinking about that and change and direction, the neurons pulled up Roxy Music from 1982 and a song called “More Than This”.
I could feel at the time
There was no way of knowing
Fallen leaves in the night
Who can say where they’re blowing
As free as the wind
And hopefully learning
Why the sea on the tide
Has no way of turning
More than this – there is nothing
More than this – tell me one thing
More than this – there is nothing
It was fun for a while
There was no way of knowing
Like a dream in the night
Who can say where we’re going
h/t to AZLyrics.com
Yes, who can say where we’re going? There’s always some indications but then shifts arrive. Something dramatic is pulled off. A galvanizing speech is made. A moderating influence is found, a new hope delivered. Who can say? History is full of downs and ups. Fingers crossed that we find something that pulls us from the brink and takes us into a new direction.
Stay positive, test negative, etc. I know, it’s a difficult challenge in the current news cycle. Still…try. And now, I will drink the magic elixir, coffee, and draw new hope and energy from it. Here’s the music. Cheers
A Pie Dream
I was younger than my present age, a spitting image of someone who I once was, and I had an unlimited number of pies. I was outside. People, beginning with my wife, came up to me. I would ask, “Do you want a pie?” They’d always reply, “What kind of pie,” and I would answer with a jovial sense, “I can give you any kind of pie that you want. Berry, apple, peach, cherry…I have them all.”
Now for the weird part.
Whenever they agreed to take a pie, I would pull it out to give to them and then say, “Wait. You’re missing something.” This always confused them. I would then go to where two white tubes hung down from the sky and say, “Here, I’ll put it in your pie.” They’d ask, “What are you putting in my pie?” I’d reply, “I’m adding what you need.”
Someone asked, “Where do the white tubes come from?” I looked up in confusion. They seemed to come from the sky. Then, though, looking around, I discovered the tubes were attached to a black wheel. The wheel hung in the sky and was really just a flat black disc hanging vertically in the sky about five feet off the ground. Further, I had several sets of them. The wheels alternated between having two white sets of tubes and two black sets of tubes. I went to different wheels to put things in the pies to give people.
My sisters came along and asked what I was doing. After explaining, I said, “I’m glad you’re here. You can help because demand is growing.” Then, looking across the rolling green hills, I saw throngs of people coming from every direction. That really pleased me. I wanted everyone to have one of my pies.
My sister asked, “How do you know what to put in them?” I said, “You can just look at them and see.”
She replied, “I can’t do it. I don’t see anything.”
I answered, “Yes, you can. You can learn. Keep trying. It’ll come.”
Dream end.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Sunshine blasted my eyes like a hot arc lamp this morning. 79 degrees F, they say it will be, up from the 62 we saw yesterday. 79 is an ideal temperature for sitting outside with friends, drinking a beer, talking about science, politics, books, and current events. That’s what I’ll be doing this afternoon.
This is Wednesday, Mary 4, 2022. That sunrise came at 6:03 AM today. The heater was on there, because we were still recovering from chilly dampness that made the air feel like we were in an abandoned mansion’s basement. At daylight’s other end, we’ll turn from the sun at 8:13 PM in our valley.
I have “Seven Wonders” by Fleetwood Mac playing in the morning mental music stream. This was directly from a dream. I’d been dreaming one thing, a muddied, dark vision that had me turning, looking for an exit. I thought I’d already turned in every direction but then, feeling trapped, with everythinoug closing in, I turned again.
And there was not just a rainbow, but the rainbow’s end, a blazing prism of light just a dozen feet away. Each band of light was sharply defined, and as twice as wide as body. And I thought in the dream, “Cool, the rainbow’s end.”
Naturally, when I awoke and remembered that, the neurons started playing the 1987 Fleetwood Mac song, keying on the lyrics, “I’ll make a path to the rainbow’s end,” and the chorus goes, “Rainbow’s edge.” That was enough for my cheeky neurons.
Stay positive and test negative. Coronavirus variants, and subvariants, and sub-subvariants are still emerging, but science, medicine, and time are dealing with it. Hope you enjoy some music whilst I enjoy some coffee. Cheers
The Mistakes Dream
Okay, another dream that placed me in the military, but I think other aspects have more meaning.
Young, about thirty-eight, the age I was when I retired, I was in a conference room with the commander and several other people. I was wearing my light blue uniform shirt with dark blue pants, standard for the Air Force and office work in those days.
The conference was very nice and modern but for some reason, the commander was upset about three lights in the ceiling. These were back in the middle, by the rear wall. The lights were small, recessed task lights, adjacent to one another, silver. The commander, a colonel, was going on about the lights being useless. “I’m going to prove it,” he shouted, “and get them removed.”
I was listening to this screed with some disdain. I thought the lights could have a use not immediately apparent — otherwise, why install them? — and it wasn’t like it made the room unusable. But I wasn’t interested in arguing with him.
The commander and a group of people left. I stayed, as did a few others, waiting for something else. Bored, I was balancing a hollow cylindrical rod on my palm. This was about three feet long, but six inches in diameter. I decided to push it against the acoustic ceiling tile. To my surprise, it cut out a perfect round hole in the tile.
The others immediately gathered, aghast, asking, “Oh my God, what did you do? Why did you do that?”
I felt more amused than upset with it, but I did immediately start trying to think of a way of covering it up. Several ideas were considered and rejected. I shrugged; the commander would come in and find it, and I’d deal with the fallout. I was almost done here, anyway, due to retire or leave within a few weeks.
Then I noticed that my uniform was screwed up. It wasn’t buttoned right, the right chest pocket was torn and hanging off, and I hadn’t attached my name tag and insignia. I also realized that I needed a haircut; I’d meant to do that and forget.
I told the rest that I need to go. “Why?” they asked. “I need to change my uniform.” I pointed out the problems with it.
The commander returned as I was doing that. He saw the mistakes and shrugged. “Go get it taken care of,” he said.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 