The Dream Collection

First, I dreamed that my ankle was completely healed. Such a real dream that when I awoke, I asked myself, did I dream that? Checking the ankle, I confirmed, nope, not healed. Yet.

Next dream had me dealing with space. A father was in space, apparently as an astronaut. It wasn’t clear if he was a private citizen, military, government effort, etc., but the news was full of his attempt. Then, boom, we were all looking up at a starry explosion on the edge of Earth’s atmosphere. Then the newspaper, electronic, and digital media is full of his disaster and death.

I wasn’t involved in any of this, just a spectator. Talking about the matter in a fractured dream process under a blue sky, my friends and I went off to get lunch. But while this progressed, I put forward the man’s daughter, a four-year-old, had been with him, and he was launching her separately back to Earth. I kept insisting that she was out there, coming back. All others were doubtful. We hunted down a tracking monitor. As we watched it, another object was being traced across the sky. There was a target arc and vector it was supposed to be following. As it veered off that, reports of a crash came in. Everyone agreed it was her and that her vehicle crashed and she was deceased. But I remained optimistic that she’d come down, and that what we’d seen was just a ruse to throw everyone off. Certainty remained in me that she’d made it back. Then I stated my belief that her father had also made it back, using the distraction of his spectacular destruction as a diversion.

That’s where the dream ended. Who this man and his daughter were supposed to be and why we cared is a complete unknown.

The night’s final dream found me with a power to make toys come to life. I could also make them grow larger. Once I learned of my ability, I tested it on a yellow toy dump truck and a green army tank. Finding my wife sitting on top of a tiny green hill, I demonstrated my new skills to her as my black and white cat, Tucker, watched.

In true dream strangeness, I then went to a cafeteria to find something to eat. Although the dining room was full, they were preparing to close. I got in line. Only a young couple were ahead of me. Cloying and loving, they were annoying and silly as they flirted and teased one another over their food selections. Seeing me waiting behind me, they apologized and offered to let me go ahead. I declined and they finished a few minutes later. Stepping up, I found that only pasta with a brown meat sauce and hot dogs were available. I piled some pasta on the plate and then loaded up two hotdogs. Eating one of the dogs, I thought, wow, that really tastes good. I was pleased with having it to eat and scarf the rest down.

My wife rushed in, interrupting my meal to warn me that something was happening to one of my toys. Her explanation was inchoherent so I just ran to where she indicated. As she said, my largest toy, a stuffed bull which was now a dozen yards tall, had fallen into a deep water. I ran over, trying to think instructions for getting out to the bull. But I was still assimilating the situation and didn’t have a clear idea yet.

The bull was running in a circle under the water. I thought he would drown. Then I saw that my black and white cat, Tucker, was riding the bull. As I gaped, I realized that Tucker was guiding the bull. Encouraged by that, I thought instructions to Tucker to help him, telling him to turn toward the shallows. Apparently receiving the guidance and applying it, Tucker guided the racing bull left and left again, and up and out of the water.

Dream end

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Suntimistic

Sun is shining. Gives promise to this Sunday, November 24, 2024. Wind is calmish, erratically kicking up like a new foal. A few clouds mill, strutting grays and whites. With a 44 degree F temperture and a high of 48 F, you’re not going to mistake this for anything but late autumn in Oregon.

Pleased with that sunshine after murky days of rain and mist. Such a wonderful and natural way to lift spirits. I went out into the chilly morning air and raised my face to the sun, sucking it up.

I think we’re going to chart how often we let Papi the ginger blade in and out of the house. Sometimes he comes in the front door and runs right to the back door, like he’s using the house as a shortcut. It feels like twenty times a day to me. That’s almost one time an hour, 24 hours. I need to chart it.

Saw a headline that caused difficulty keeping my breakfast down. “Most Americans Approve Of Trump Transition—As Controversial RFK Jr. Gets High Marks, Poll Finds “Most Americans”. Yeah, and most Americans think that tariffs and mass deportations will lower inflation. Shouldn’t be surprised that ‘most Americans approve’. Actually, I don’t think I’m surprised but disappointed.

“The majority of respondents approve of both Trump’s plans for mass deportations (57%) and his plan to impose broad tariffs on U.S. imports (52%), the poll found. Most Trump voters also don’t believe the tariffs will make prices higher—contradicting predictions from most experts—and the third that do think tariffs will lead to higher prices support them anyway.

And while 59% approve of Trump’s transition plans, of the five nominees listed, RFK had the most positive rating, 47%.

So there we go. We must find a way to Make Americans Think Harder. Maybe bitter experience will open their eyes and impact their thinking. From what I’ve seen, it won’t. After all, look at how much of history, basic government and civics, and economics they keep forgetting.

Final note: I wonder if they included a question in that poll about Trump not yet signing the necessary transition documents? Hmm? Would that change the favorable poll results? Do they know that he won’t sign those MOUs and the ethics document?

To be fair, research has emerged that COVID-19 affects the brain, including a negative impact on IQ. Maybe that explains why Americans don’t seem to think much these days.

My foot continues healing. Edema causes issues. More exercise is needed to combat the edema. But the healing ankle surgery compromises the ability to exercise. Classic Catch 22.

Today’s song is sun focused. The Neurons saw that and started throwing sun and sunshine themed songs into the morning mental music stream (Trademark limping). Eventually, the mingling lyrics and rhythms cleared. Bob Marley and the Wailers arose with “Sun is Shining”. I like the song’s relaxed, easy style.

Gotta say, the green chili stew we made yesterday was a perfect antidote to the chilly wet day yesterday. Added roasted chicken to mine. Yeah, frozen and pre-cooked, low sodium. Yes, I’m a cheater. It’s available for lunch today. Really spicy; my wife said it was too spicy for her. We topped it with avocado and garnishd it with cilantro.

Coffee has been introduced to my internal environment. Gonna go make green smoothies. Think they’ll have a tropical taste. Mango and pineapple. Have the best Sunday you can. Here’s the music. Cheers

The Black Cat Dream

One of our floofs was a big black cat named Boo. With a stub for his tail, he wandered into our yard one day asking for food, and we welcomed him. He was in good shape so we went looking for his owners. No one ever claimed him.

We lost him to cancer a few years ago but he visited me in a dream last night. He spent time laying beside me purring, looking at me, talking to me. Then he followed me around as I went through the house and out to trim the yard bushes.

Thinking about this dream, I realize there’s a lot of my recent dreams which seem to be about yearning for a time when things were happier, when I was younger, and when the future is brighter.

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: Postsunday

Proceeded through the morning essentials. Complained to Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) about the stench of some of his essential. Both floofs begged release from the house to the rear yard. I headed out with them.

September 30. 2024. Monday. Cold autumn morning. Even the rising solar orb gave a little shiver. Cats sought sunshine arrangements for grooming. I launched back into the house, thinking, cold now but will cap at the mid to upper 80s F today. No clouds effing with today’s blue, either.

This is it. September’s last shout. Like other months this year, September of this year will be able to brag to historians about disasters, politics, and violence. History will give it a glance and reply, more of the same but intensifying. Probably ask, “Couldn’t the people see the direction they were heading? Did they not give a fuck to try to change it?” We’ll defensively huddle together and reply, “Well, it’s complicated.” If MAGAs and the GOP ever emerge from their holes of irresponsibility and weirdness and wash the cult off, will they be able to understand how they contributed?

The Neurons offer a slice of song from the South Pacific musical: “Gonna wash that cult right out of my hair and send it on its way. Get the picture?” I thank them for the mild snicker they induce.

Moving on to music, thoughts about waiting and patience impell The Neurons to move on from “Bali Hair” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark sinking) because they kept on going with South Pacific tunes (once they’re on something) to a 2003 Audioslave song. The melancholy rock song, “Like A Stone”, is about waiting for the afterlife, patiently at that, where they’ll hope to be reconnected with someone. Doesn’t purely translate to today’s situation ‘cept for that idea of patiently waiting for some of this mess of 2024 to clear up, patiently waiting, as it’s sung, like a stone.

Be positive, patient, and strong. Test neggy and lean forward. Vote blue. Coffee has washed down the breakfast components. Here’s the music part of the post. Cheers

Friday’s Wandering Thoughts

My wife chastised me for ‘using too much soap’ when I was cleaning the cat’s bowls.

I apologized, having been unaware the restriction existed. Ignorance is not a defense, of course. I await my sentencing.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sunumny

It’s Sunday, September 22, 2024. First day of autumn, aka fall, in the northern latitudes. Sumumn is still visiting Ashlandia. Chilly last night at 52 F at our place, the high will pop into the low 80s F today. A relatively windless day, sunshine baths a blue sky where lonely moon offers a pale version of its waning self high in the western sky.

Haven’t read any news this morning. Was just involved with other matters and felt no great urge to jump into war, disasters, politics, tragedy, or weather. I instead read more of my library book, Slough House, by Mick Herron. Entertaining and distracting, it’s just what I required with my Sunday morning cuppa coffee.

Although I’ve been reading about bots and AI off and on recently, a cat inspired today’s song. Messing around with Papi, the ginger blade, so named because of his slender shape, brought the song up. Papi is well established in his ways. After eating, he washes up and then comes for some skrive, which is flooflish for sritch-love. He only stays about eight minutes and then abruptly whirls and leaves. As he departed today, I told him, “Domo arigatō,” after he left the session, continuing, “I appreciate the visit. Come again.”

Click, The Neurons recalled “Mr. Roboto” by Styx and began playing it in the morning mental music stream (Trademark rusty). The song, which seems like it’s about a man who is a robot, came out in 1983. I was stationed on Okinawa, Japan in 1983. As with many Americans stationed over there in the military, domo arigatō was one of several common Japanese expressions we’d learned as part of that experience. So that song was instantly and hugely popular with a segment of the personnel. Later, I had a young friend when were stationed in Germany who loved this song. He’d played the drums and keyboards, sing the lyrics, and act as a robot during parts of it. Yes, a crazy, memorable dude.

Enjoy your day, stay strong, be positive, and vote blue in 2024. Here’s the music, and awaaayyy we go. Cheers

Saturday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sumumnsatting

With change of season almost on us and the world’s relationship to the sun shifting, the sunbeams jumped right into my bed through the room’s sliding glass door, illuminating me and my faithful buddy, Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah). Time to get up, I think I said, and he replied, Time to eat.

Sumumn still holds on, dropping cool nights on us, like 50 F last night, but taking us to pleasantly warm temperatures, like 82 F today. A finely consistent coat of gilded sunshine holds the days while nights are wrapped up in clear, starry skies. This is Saturday, September 21, 2024.

After reading some of Trump’s latest stuff, I read about Danica Patrick’s declarations about being between a Republican and an Independent. Danica Patrick is a retired race driver who is always down on Vice President Harris. She’s also Aaron Rodger’s former girlfriend. Patrick commented, “I think our country should be run by someone that knows business and has integrity.”

Well, as true experts will clarify for you, running the nation as a business is not realistic; a nation and a business have different goals, with a nation being concerned about its people welfare and security, and the multitude of issues and needs which fall into those wide buckets. A business is focused on making a profit. Those are contrary end-goals.

Patrick doesn’t mention that she’s voting for D.J. Trump. I can’t believe that she would if she’s realistically assessing Trump’s business acumen. After that, discussions about Trump’s integrity can open. Documented as being a consistent liar, he’s also demonstrated that he’s out of touch with the nation’s history and needs, flipflops on his positions based on what he believes voters want to hear (see abortion and Project 2025), and if you believe the lawsuits and commentary from New Yorkers, he regularly stiffs contractors. Trump’s business bankruptcies are also well-chronicled.

Anyway, out of that, Hall & Oates began playing in the morning mental music stream (Trademark trumped) as Der Neurons called up “You’re Out of Touch” from 1977. Hall & Oates were a musical duo whose sound was stamped all over the popular music scene. Living in the barracks in the Philippines at the time, I’d hear this song being played in others’ rooms, and regularly hear it at the Airman’s Club. It’s encrusted in my psyche.

Stay positive, be strong, lean forward, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee is being swallowed in fine gulps. Here’s the music. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Precipitized

Autumn was hulking against the house by the back door, sometimes gently tapping to come in. I opened the door. A lush gush waltzed in and danced around the room.

I’ve decided that I like autumn better than summer and winter. Winter and summer are fickle about their temperatures and weather offerings. Autumn seems more relaxed and straightforward about it. Yes, warm days will come, with some soaring temperatures which somehow complements a view of autumnal foliage against a blue sky. Mostly, though, memories of autumn has me anticipated a level stream of gently declining temperatures as tree shed their leaves and winter begins gracing us.

It’s Wednesday, 9/11/2024. A moment to remember that morning, seared into so many of our brains, sharp-edged memories formed as our daily routines were put on hold and we watched our televisions.

It’s 55 F at my house. My wife was up early to get ready for her exercise class. She told me after I got up that she came in and whispered to me, “It’s raining,” but I was deeply asleep and did not hear.

A little later, Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah), shouted, “It’s raining and I’m hungry and get up and feed me.” Which I did.

Ah, rain. Small drops, lighty falling, wetting everything, and releasing gases that waft up to us and awakens rain memories. The smell is so rich.

Our air is so clear and fresh this morning. Purple has the readings around me in single digits. Airnow.gov has us at 25.

Today’s high will be in the upper sixties.

I’m looking forward to having something done about my injured foot. Although I wear my brace when I’m out and about, strange complaints and sharp pains will jump out. “Hey, don’t bend me that way,” it yells. “Watch where you’re stepping. You want pain, I’ll give you pain.” I know, it’s a very small thing to endure compare to what many others suffer. I’m just a whiner.

I’m not going to comment much on the debate last night. I will say that my personal confidence and hope that Kamala Harris becomes POTUS number 47 pole-vaulted into new levels.

With the debate and the rain and season shift, The Neurons have plugged a Steve Perry song into the morning mental music stream (Trademark gone). “Oh Sherrie” was released in 1984. I don’t know why it’s in my head this morning. I can’t trace a relationship to anything that I thought, did, or dreamed. It’s just there as I walked into the office, coffee cup in hand, swallowing the last of a fig, and gazed out the window at the green mountains, flat gray sky, and cautiously falling rain. The Neurons work in mysterious ways.

Stay positive, be strong, and vote blue in 2024. Coffee is half gone. Here’s the music video — Steve Perry with Journey playing his hit single. Cheers

Weird Ol’ Facebook

As a boomer, I still surf and share to FB. Mostly to keep up with ex-military friends and co-workers, and track my family on the other side of the country. I share things I write, too.

But I mostly, I ‘like’ things on Facebooks, things being ‘posts’, shares, videos, and photos. I share some of these things which I ‘like’. You might be surprised that I support animal charities and causes, especially cats. Cats and I have been together since I was a young toddler.

One of the FB groups I follow is VOKRA, the Vancouver Orphan Kitten Rescue Association. They posted, with photos, the tale of Jinx. They’re trying to get Jinx (or maybe it was Binx) adopted. I ‘liked’ the post about the sweet tabby kitten. It only had eleven shares, so I clicked share, to help spread the story and get Jinx or Binx adopted. That’s what social media is about, isn’t it?

Boom. Facebook told me they’d removed it. It was offensive and contrary to community standards. They even accused me of (gasp!) posting something just to get ‘likes’.

Posting things to get ‘likes’. WTF is the world coming to?

My wife and discussed this with WTF amazement. What does FB think it is if not a vehicle for ‘likes’? More critically, how the actual fuck did this post about a kitten available for adoption violate FB community standards?

I hate to reveal this to Facebook, but if cats and kittens and adoptions are against FB community standards, there are huge swaths of violations going on right now. They’d probably be scandalized to learn how many posts are about cats and kittens. In fact, if FB goes after posts about kittens and cats, they will seriously deplete their membership, posts, and shares. They might as well pull the plug on telling each other ‘happy birthday’ while they’re at it.

Truthtfully, I suspect that some poor Facebook AI bot is just having a bad day and removed a post that shouldn’t have been removed. Maybe their companion AI bot left them or they caught their partner AI bot in a compromising configuration with another bot doing forbidden codes.

I don’t know. I’m just speculating. Hope someone takes that poor AI bot aside and communicates with them over a cup of coffee.

Coffee always helps.

And yes, I will post this to Facebook to get likes. Ironic, isn’t it?

The Delivery

Tucker (pronounced Tuck-ah) came to the room’s door. Sitting down, he composed his tail and then looked at me. Then, very deliberately, in a deadpan voice, he enunciated, “Me. Ow. Me. Ow.”

It was so weird. He never says “me. ow.” He says, Mrrrmpf,” and variations of that, like a grumbling old man too bored to bother with a whole meow. Or very loudly, sharply, “Mmrrrrowl.” But “me. ow”? No.

It was like he was doing some offbeat feline impression of Bob Newhart or Steven Wright as a cat. “Me. Ow.”

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