Tag: change

‘Nother Military Dream

It was another military dream but with a marked difference. First, a friend, Jeff, who was also in the military was in the dream.

I was at some unidentified Air Force base. I was a chief master sergeant, E9, and was due to attend a conference of CMS that was due to start. (This is two ranks above my RL retired rank.) I worried about my hair, my uniform, and my shoes as attendees began arriving. But I slipped away and pressed my uniform, taking care of that, putting razor sharp creases in it. Then I stayed low until the barber opened. When I walked into the barber shop, there were two barbers and no customers, so either one could immediately cut my hair. Both knew me by name.

After getting my hair cut, I left the shop and looked down at my shoes. They were scuffed and old. I said to myself, those aren’t my shoes, and they immediately changed into highly polished new shoes.

I felt a lot better about myself. I ran into Jeff, also a CMS. He and I chatted. I ended up telling him about a cousin who died of cancer (a cancer did die of cancer in RL). We were walking around as we talked. Female military spouses were all over the place, and they kept flirting with me. The attention flattered me.

Jeff and I stayed together through the morning, sitting down and eating. Then the conference was due to start. Another CMS came up and asked if I was going, because it was getting under way. I told him that I’d left the military twice and came back twice, but now I’m done. I wasn’t going to attend. I was taking off my uniform and leaving.

I went off to find a bathroom. When I found one, I undressed and then peed and discovered that my pecker was half purple. One of the wives walked in on me. While taking a long look at my body, she apologized for entering. I replied, “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering why my penis is half purple.”

Dream end.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Hello to my fellow air-breathers of Earth, which could be an interesting band title. But then again, I thought last night that “Friends of a Different Life” would be an interesting novel title.

It’s December’s final Thursday, which bestows the day with the honor of being the year’s final day. Our day has polarized feelings about its position. Eastern and southern window views are lavish with sunshine. The other two directions find white bottomed sky embracing the houses and playing hide and seek with trees. It’s 41 F, a hospitable winter temperature, with aspirations of duplicating the feat of the last several days and seeing 51 F. I’ll take it. Wish it would snow on the mountains. Guess I need to do another snow dance. The last one might’ve backfired. I’m not saying that my last snow dance is responsible for the bomb cyclone which dumped massive snow and iced up much of northern and eastern North America, but coincidental timing is suspect.

This friendly sunshine began its visit at 7:39 today. 4:47 PM will see the sunshine’s tour end. It is December 29, 2022.

Today’s themey music was prompted by The Neurons and the cats. Felines were trying to herd me. On my side, I was playing the classic floof game, “What do you want?” I kept asking, “What is it that you want? Are you hungry? Need food? Is your water okay? Do you want to go out? Is Lassie in a well?” The questions kept going and then I just urged them, “Come on, show me what you want. Show me the way.”

The Neurons said, “Oh, he wants some Frampton.” “Show Me the Way” from 1975 spun up in the morning mental music stream. As a treat, I found a recording of it on it on Midnight Special, a television show which used to showcase the hit pop and rock performers and their songs. Many friends of the era would ask if I’d seen X on Midnight Special last night. Current gen folks can’t understand the huge differences in our technology from now and then. The wasn’t as wide as me as the one between me as a child and my grandparents, but the scale of change and what can now be done got faster and faster, becoming a dizzying and impressive shift.

Sorry, somehow put on my old man pants. I was just pondering, what was it like in the late eighteen hundreds when they had to deal with the weather? Television, radio, and computers were all in the future. How much warning was given before something like a snowstorm struck? How was the word passed?

Think I need some java, and I’m not talking script. Stay positive and test negy. Here’s the throwback. Cheers

PS – Do you think Final Friday might be a good novel title. Has probably already been done, don’t you think?

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Saturday’s Theme Music

-2 degrees C. Sunshine soaks everything in sight. Two runners in cold suits run up the street. It’s a tough hill, so I am impressed, especially in this weather. Then I pour coffee and sip, reflecting, I used to do that stuff.

I was thinking about issuing an NTF about me and things I’ve never done or been. I can be a superhero, rock star, astronaut, and other things I fantasized about becoming as a child. It can be a good way to make some extra cash, if I can bring some buyers to the table. That’ll be a task worthy of Hercules. I’ll also need an artist to make me prettier and clean up my looks. But it’s a good winter project.

It’s Saturday, December 17, 2022. The countdown to winter solstice has accelerated. Oh, yeah, other holidays are under way or approaching, too. We like to celebrate solstice with mulled wine, soup, bread and salads. Then we burn a log, write our wishes on little scraps of paper, tie them with string or ribbon, and burn them. Hasn’t really worked as far as granting wishes, but it’s a hopeful and joyous evening. The company and wine is good, too.

While it’s below freezing now, we expect a high of 42 F. Sunrise, when this shine was unleashed on us, 7:34 this morning and daylight’s ebb will fall on us at 4:40. And so it goes. Last night had a solid moon out there and lots of moonshine. I can only wonder about what was going on in the shadows. The cats showed little interest in leaving for change, until 5:37 this morning, when Papi said, I must go out and make my rounds. I’m thinking about issuing an NTF of my cats, too. There will probably be more buyers for them. Maybe if I put my cats in my NTFs, like I’m a muscular handsome superhero carrying my cats. Will that work?

I have the song, “Season of the Witch” by Donovan in my mind, a song which was released in the mid sixties. How’d this come about, you ask. Why do you have that song in your head? Well, that was about looking out the window. As I sipped coffee and contemplated the other side of the pane, Der Neurons began the lyrics, “When I look out my window. what do you think I see? And when I look in my window, so many different people to be. It’s strange, sure is strange.” So there we go. So many recent events might evaporate out of my head and bits of knowledge challenges my recall, but my mind can pull Donovan lyrics from almost sixty years ago.

Going in for another cuppa coffee and a bagel. Stay pos and test negative. Dress appropriately for the weather wherever you are, and whatever weather which you weather. Here’s the music. It’s a typical Donovan style tune. Enjoy Saturday. Cheers

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Sunday’s Wandering Thought

He remembered when his family ordered things from a catalog when he was a boy. First, there was filling out the form of the item numbers, quantities, and prices. “Get my credit card from my purse,” Mom would order. The 800 number was called, the order placed.

Days of mystery would ensue. When would the order get here? Where is it now? Each day brought the three Ws: watching, waiting, wondering.

Slip forward a few decades. Companies began telling him exactly when his order would arrive. Shipping and tracking advances continued. Soon, he tracked his packages as they left faraway cities and countries and zigzagged a path to his home. He knew exactly when it would arrive. It was immensely satisfying.

Systems matured and processes evolved. Breakdowns from overloaded, overpromising systems became endured. Tracking information is still sent out, but he frequently finds himself as he was when he was a child, watching, waiting, wondering.

He feels like he’s gone full circle.

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The Shorts Dream

I was visiting with family. We were going to a special event. It may have been part of a wedding or a holiday. Never clear to RL me although dream me understood.

Women and children dominated in the dream family. I knew none of them from RL. A chaotic dream, almost immediately upon arrival, I set up in my room, a narrow, tall space with a cheap bed. This room later changed, becoming wide, and long, with a low ceiling. I didn’t notice the change during the dream but as I look back on it, I can see the difference.

Word was given, time to start getting ready to go. I dumped my suitcase to go through my clothing. I’d only brought shorts with me even though I knew it was supposed to be a fancy function. As I went through the shorts, discarding many as unacceptable, I chastised myself with my packing decisions — what the hell had I been thinking? Women who were dream family members kept coming by to see what I was choosing to wear. I had the impression that they were taking their cues from me. That unnerved me, as I felt pretty clueless and unprepared. NTL, I was going to do my best.

I tried on a pair of black and white shorts. Knee-length, they had a pleated waist and fit me well. Now a shirt! I found a silvery one which I decided went well with the shorts. Women coming by came and told one another, “He’s going to be sparkling.” They went off. When I next saw them, they were dressed in glittering sequined dresses in red, blue, black, gold, silver, and white. All wore ornate necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. They seemed like they were quickly ready to go.

But the children weren’t ready, and were following me around, waiting for me to dress. It’s now that my room became different. As I held up the shorts and checked myself in a mirror, I realized my shorts were muddied. OMG, now what was I going to do?

I began going through my shorts again. At that point, a young man came in. Supposedly another relative, he acted a little off. I thought that he could be on drugs. Other than that, he had short blonde hair, was my height but very muscular.

He walked around my room, telling me that he was just looking around and then asking me what I was going to wear. I showed him my muddied black and white shorts, then set them aside and continued going through the others. He complimented me on my shorts, walked around a little more, then suddenly moved. Grinning broadly, he left.

I decided that I’d wash the mud off the black and white shorts. They were gone! Realizing the guy had taken them, I went out after him. I quickly chased him down. He denied it at first, then held up the shorts and confirmed he’d taken them, but justified his behavior because he liked them and I had a lot of shorts to wear and he had none. As he finished this, I jerked the shorts out of his hand.

Shouting, he threw a punch. I dodged that and scrambled backwards and up onto a low wall. Fists balled, he came after me. Others were watching. I knew he was way more muscular than me and figured that he would easily beat me senseless. As he approached, I said, “I’m not fighting over shorts. This is stupid. These are mine. If you want to steal them, you can, but everyone will know.”

He’d been about to take the shorts and hit me. Jerking to a halt, he started berating himself. I grasped the gist was that he had problems and he was struggling to change. As he did that, I slipped away.

I still needed to wash my shorts. Locating a bathroom, I went in, closing and locking the door behind me. As I bent over the sink, a woman pulled the top of the door back from the frame, unhooked a lock and then reached down and unlocked the door. She opened it; I pulled it closed. She opened it again.

Another woman came up, demanding to know what was going on. I explained my end. She answered, “We can’t have this.” I realized that she was referring to a locked door. Leaving that bathroom, I went off to find a phone.

Dream end.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

The husband and wife were complaining about cutbacks. The city had removed the drop boxes for utility bills from ‘their’ end of town, necessitating a two mile walk or drive to drop the bill off. “Hardly a drop off,” he huffed.

She said, “They keep cutting services back but we keep paying more.”

He began laughing. “We sound just like our parents.” Standing, he said in a raised voice, “I remember when they delivered the mail twice a day and stamps were three cents.”

It was funny, even if it was all true. Someday, Gen Z will complain and say that they sound just like the Boomers.

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Trees & Change Dream

The dream involved two pubs-café-coffee shops. Hard to say exactly what they were. Both were tiny places. One at the top of a parking lot, and the other at the parking lot’s bottom. The parking lot was rutted and in disarray, with a large sugar maple tree about midway down. The sugar maple tree is interesting to me because it reminds me of the one on my in-laws’ land when was younger.

I was younger in the dream but had my current panoply of friends. Among these were several friends who’ve passed away. They were drinking beer with me in the shop at the hill’s top. Well-lit, the place was elbow to asses with people, and we were squeezed in around a small table. In response to comments by one, I replied, “That proves that the other business is being set up to fail.”

A deceased friend answered, “You’re wrong.”

I began to argue back but checked up. “You know something.”

He nodded. “I know something.”

We finished our beers, rose, and walked out. Like that, I was walking into the parking lot the next morning. With me was my back pack with my computer. I was going to the place we’d frequented the previous night. On a whim, I decided to check the other place, which was the one we’d been discussing. Going down the hill, passing the sugar maple tree, I saw a large opening formed in the trunk by the roots. Inside was a large though muddy, comfortable space lit by a single white candle with a yellow flame. Thinking of how it reminded me of a hobbit’s place, I wondered who lit the candle, as no one else was there. It’d be a good place to shelter, in my mind, going on, leaving the candle lit.

The bottom shop was constructed from wood and painted gray. Ancient and splintered, the shop needed fresh paint. Large trees bracketed it on either side. Reaching the entrance required crossing a short but wide wooden bridge which matched the building.

Inside, I set up my computer and then met the owner. He spoke with me about my backpack, commenting that it looked heavy. I replied, it was dependent on what’s inside. When it’s just my computer, it’s less than twenty-five pounds but adding books added weight. He answered, “That makes sense.”

I told him that he needs to take care of his business. I met this as a warning, which I explained to him, based on what I’d seen and heard. I then left to go up to the other place. Almost immediately, I realized that I had my backpack but had forgotten my computer. Fortunately, a little girl who’d been in the shop chased me down with it. I thanked her and pressed on.

Back up the hill, I struggled to enter the shop. A large tree had grown close to their front door. Growing at an angle, the tree’s girth forced me to shift sideways to enter the business. All this surprised me, prompting comments to myself about not remembering the tree being like that. Getting in, I set up my computer and ordered coffee. People gathered around to ask me what I was doing. Writing, I explained. They began asking questions about what I was writing, prompting me to share and expand on what I was writing. Finding my coffee cup empty, I made to leave, but they insisted they wanted to hear more, and bought me another cup of coffee. This mug was much larger, which I joked about. As I took the first sip, I discovered that the shop was full with people waiting to hear me continue my story.

Dream end.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Spread the alarm. Monday has breached the walls. Save yerselves.

Dawn came in a bit before seven. Sunrise came after the way was cleared, arriving to clear blue skies at 7:42 this morning. The temperature has sprinted up to 45 degrees F and will go all the way to 62 F. The Cedar Creek fire is now in its third month but it’s 68% contained. We don’t smell the fire in our sector any longer but I’m sure others are still enduring it, and I feel for them. Sunset will be at 6:06 PM, so set your alarms. It’ll be October’s last.

We used to go trick or treating after dark when I was a child. In fact, that was one of Mom’s stipulations for when we could begin: “It’s not even dark yet.” These days, darkness is an enemy of the event. Most trick or treating is done in more controlled environments. Schools, stores, and malls have joined the Halloween proceedings. We didn’t buy any treats this year. We’ve bought in the past and generally ate it ourselves in the nights after the goblins and monsters’ cries have faded into November. So we don’t do that no more. Kind of miss it but also, c’est le vie.

After reading emails and the mail last night, The Neurons started playing “Money (That’s What I Want)” by The Flying Lizards (1979). Totally understandable. Almost every entity sending emails and missives in my direction are asking for money. Subscribe to this or that. Buy more of this. Get a new one of that, and replace that other. You need more! Donate to me — we need money to stay free. So, yeah, no surprise that Der Neurons brought up “Money (That’s What I Want)”. Les Neurons could have gone multiple directions with this. Could’ve just fired up Pink Floyd’s song, “Money.” “Money (That’s What I Want)” has been released as a Motown hit, a moneymaker by the Beatles, a cover by the Stones, and, of course, The Flying Lizards.

The Flying Lizards’ rendition is a twist against the others, throwing out a simple tune with a bald, straightforward delivery: “Give me money. That’s what I want.” They’re not truly singing it, just deadpan presenting it. That’s why it works so well for all these money requests that inundate my existence. Take Pfizer, for example. They were heroes, one of several, coming up with COVID-19 vaccines. Now they want money so shots will be over one hundred dollars each. Don’t worry, insurance will cover it. No insurance? Oh, no, that’s not good. But Prizer is a corporation. They exist to make money, right?

BTW, has anyone done a new cover of this song recently? Seems like it’s overdue.

Well, you know the routine. Holds even for Mondays, even on October’s final effort. Stay positive, test neggy, etc. Coffee is in the morning’s collection plate. I’m gonna help meself to some. That’s what I want.

Have a good one. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Yesterday had us in bee mode, going from event to event. Slowly today, with only one thing on schedule.

It’s Saturday. Claim you prize at the window if you guessed correctly. Don’t know what the prize is. You’ll need to talk to the director about that. It’s also Oct. 22, 2022, if you’re going for the perfecta.

Rain began last night at tennish, got serious about it around midnight, calmed itself down for part of the night, and then stormed back at five. Lot of rain sounds. Some wind joined in to move a few things. We’ve needed rain, so yea, and now need snow. Fortunately, snow is forecast for the area above 5,000 feet. We’re below two, so we shouldn’t need to deal. More rain is due from above today (I know, where else did I think it would come from?), with most forecasts proclaiming it’s going to rain from early afternoon to almost midnight.

It’s currently 45 F in our area. 10 to 11 degrees C is posted as expectations for our high. We have a plan to go to the Japanese Garden opening in Lithia Park. Two plus years in the making, they tore up some stuff and built a wall, so ambivalence is greeting the park’s appearance. They’re also talking about perhaps charging an entrance fee in the future, anathema to Ashland’s attitude toward parks. They’re supposed to be free recreation areas for the people, yo. We’ll see what happens when the future arrives.

Dawn had an underwhelming arrival, with clouds and rain dictating light and visibility. Sunrise came at 7:32 AM. On daylight’s other end — dare I say, its rear end? — sunset will be at 6:18.

We were at Empty Bowls last night, the fundraiser for feeding the homeless and struggling. My wife is part of the setup committee. We met with other friends there, catching up on news from the COVID era. Too much of it was about bad health. Three friends, not seen in a while, we learned had died. Another had a massive heart attack and was going in for triple bypass surgery on Monday. But there were also sunny faces sharing happy tales about how well they and their families were doing.

This is a transition day for me vis-à-vis clothing options. I’ve been in shorts in Oregon since spring, other than a few special events. Now it’s time to dig out jeans, long shirts and sweaters, and raincoats. That had me thinking about yesterday, which was a magnet for The Neurons. They came out with 30 Seconds to Mars and “From Yesterday”. It took me a while to put that together as I had the refrains about a map of the world on his face going on. In fact, I often incorrectly think that the 2007 song’s title is “Map of the World”. But as the song went through my head, the title was corrected.

The cats are also transitioning. Tucker was out, moving around the yard seeking solar patches, but Papi, the young feline, said, “Screw this,” and mostly stayed in the house. Of course, the night of rain arrived, and the situation reversed. Now, though, both cats are declared themselves indoor pets. Tucker slumbers on the desk left of my computer while ever a contrarian, Papi naps on the living room sofa.

Well, stay pos, test neg. I’m up for coffee and an orange cranberry scone. Can I get you anything? Here’s the music while you think about it. I couldn’t find the short version so here’s medium version. The actual song begins about halfway through.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He has the bug. It overtook him without warning and is as insistent and annoying as a mosquito visiting his ear canal. Acknowledging what must be done, he goes into his closet and begins pulling out clothes and trying them on. Yes, they’re his clothes, and not his wife’s – not that there’s anything wrong with that. Just a point of order.

First to be tried on is the flight suit that he last wore over thirty years ago. Does not fit, he finds. Hell, it can’t ever be tugged over his shoulders without his spouse’s help. It’s surprising how much it’s shrunk since he last put it on. He keeps his Air Force service dress uniform out of nostalgia, even though it also shrank.

Business suits are next. He formerly wore a lot of them during his time in marketing but hasn’t put one on for almost twenty years. They have also shrunk. He makes a mental note to google why some closets make clothes shrink. Maybe it’s the way he’s storing them or something. Jeans, pants, and shirts are pulled out, tested, and put into neat piles. In an hour, he’s collected three towers of clothes which have shrunk. He’ll donate them to charities.

The shrinking worries him, though. Maybe he should move his other clothes somewhere else before they shrink.

Yes, maybe, he decides.

Maybe.

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