Another School Dream
Heading to school. Adult – roughly my current age. Driving through a dark, rainy day. It is pouring rain.
It begins with me in a car, driving. Traffic is heavy. I’m trying to get into the left-hand turn lane. A dark blue Miata is ahead, trying to get into my lane. Behind the Miata, a motorcycle is trying to also change lanes to my lane.
Patient and courteous, we work it out and go on. I turn left, then left again onto the school grounds.
Then I’m in a crowded small classroom. English lit is being taught. Other students present are famous and accomplished: movie, television, and rock stars, along with NFL players and coaches, and NASA scientists. I think, what am I doing here?
A man introduces himself as a NASA scientist. I once facilitated some NASA scientists in a team-building exercise. I struggle to remember their names. I can only tell him when and where it happened. He smiles, indulgent, but he’s not impressed.
An NFL player sitting not far from me recalls a ‘jet sweep’ play. He was blocking for the runner, and vividly remembers details. “Was the QB the runner?” I asked.
An NFL coach joins the conversation. Using a marker, he draws up the play on a sheet of paper, describing it in detail. I’m astounded.
We break to different classes. As I walk away, I notice that my computer bag, which is black leather, feels awfully light and floppy. Damn; I left my laptop at home. I think, if I have my phone, I can still log in and do things – but no. I’ve forgotten my phone, too.
Grimacing, I think, how can I recover? Not seeing a way, I sit, hoping to be inconspicuous, realizing, if called upon, I’ll just need to explain that I screwed up and forgot my phone and laptop. I’m so mortified.
Another person sits beside me. I recognize him as someone famous. He asks, “Hey, are you alright? It looks like something is bothering you.”
I explain that I forgot my laptop and that it upset me.
The teacher, a small elderly woman, comes in and sits at a desk at the crowded class’s front. She begins talking.
Dream end.
Strange Clothing Dream
Had a strange dream last night.
At a school. Being taught.
Problems cropped up. Wasn’t certain where I was supposed to be or what I was doing. But a kindly man offered to help. Older, with trimmed hair. White and clean-shaven.
He helped me dress but the clothes were too small and tight. Seemed to me like children’s clothes he was trying to get me to put on.
I protested but I also thought it funny. Pointed out that the light gray shorts he had me in were so small that my penis was hanging out the bottom.
Gruffly, he dismissed my concerns. “Told me, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
To which I just shook my head, disagreeing but not overly concerned, rather chuckling about it.
I went out on a small stage. Light brown wooden floor, varnished. No curtain.
I was in a spotlight. Dark theater. The man was behind me, out of the spotlight. Small audience, mostly women, sat at the front.
I wasn’t sure what to do. The women started calling out, “What are you doing? Get him some clothes. Can’t you see his pecker hanging out?”
Laughing, I told the man, “Told you so.”
Dream end.
Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts
Slow day at the coffee shop. Bailey and Nat were behind the counter. No customers were behind me. I asked Bailey if she wrote cursive.
Yes. She told about learning it, she thought when she was eight, in Washington. “Then we moved to Tennessee. I was just learning how to write cursive then.”
“Can your children read cursive?” I asked.
“My daughter can. She’s thirteen and she just learned to read and write cursive. My son can’t, yet. He’s younger and I think they’re going to teach it this year.”
I then explained why I was asking. We’d been at the DMV in Medford where the agent joked about the need to read cursive. Her children couldn’t read or write it.
Bailey asked Nat if she could write cursive. “Yes,” Nat agreed. “But we were the last class to be taught, we were told.”
I said, “I’m happy to hear they’re still teaching it.”
Bailey volunteered, “Yes, but I think it varies with the district. I’m 38.”
Nat said, “I’m 24.”
“You learned in California, right, Nat?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, and my teacher was like, you will learn cursive. I’m not changing my writing. You will learn it.”
Her imitation had us laughing.
So, cool. Here in Ashland, at least, cursive remains alive.
Monday’s Theme Music — You Know It’s True
Ashland, southern Oregon — Monday, June 8, 2026.
It’s another cool June morning in Ashland’s valley. Also damp with light rain. I’ll take both over the dry, hot weather which had been predicted for us. Right now, it’s 53 degrees F with clouds and expected to reach 64.
My sister has continued reporting on emptying Mom’s house. The ‘metal guy’ came and hauled away metal shelves, chairs, tables, junk. As she lists the accumulation and where it was found — behind or in the shed, in the garage — it becomes a reflection on how we make plans and set things aside, then forget about them. I confess, there’s probably a chunk of stuff like that in my life.
Each time that I share a story like this with my wife, she responds, “Don’t you think your mother wishes she did a death clean?”
No; I don’t. Mom isn’t involved. The FAMILY might wish it so, but Mom is in many ways removed from the process.
Read about Trump’s case against the BBC:
Trump refuses to hand over financial records in BBC damages case
Technically, it’s the trust run by Junior which refused to hand over the records. Don’t doubt that Junior didn’t ask Trump about it before saying that they’re not handing over the records.
If it was anyone else not handing over records, Trump would immediately be declaring, “So CROOKED AND DISGUSTING!!! WHAT ARE THEY HIDING!!!”
TDS — Trump Double Standards — are Trump’s only standard.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
It’s classic Trump, accusing another of the things he does. Like that time — one of many — when he mocked President Biden for sleeping.
“He broke every record. He sleeps all the time, during the day, during the night, on the beach. The only guy could fall asleep on the beach with the press watching,” Trump said, seeming to reference a clip of Biden filmed while he was vacationing.
Trump added, “When you love your job, when you love your country, and when you’re in a position like we are, future king, highly respected, crown prince, and, in my case, president, you’re thinking about your country.”
Trump has been photographed multiple times sleeping in meetings recently. Using Trump’s logic, Trump must not love his country.
Today’s music is from Sammy Hagar. His song, “There’s Only One Way to Rock” was released in 1981. It’s in my morning mental music stream today due to one phrase: “It’s a fact and you know that it’s true.”
That’s important today. Under Trump Double Standards, he often pretends things are not facts. Likes to think it’s not true. Like statements he made about releasing the Epstein files. Claims he made about them not mattering. Claims he made about the Epstein files being a Democratic hoax.
Or food and energy. How he would lower prices day one. Then he announced tariffs and started a war. They drove prices up. Now Trump claims he doesn’t care about prices. Though, now he’s shifted reasons for why, claiming that he doesn’t care about prices because of the war with Iran.
Trump’s war with Iran isn’t a war but a conflict. It’s not that long, even though it’s 100 days and longer than he said it would be.
It’s also true with Epstein’s ballroom. Trump made it all about the need for a ballroom and then flipped his reasoning when private financing stalled, and made it about ‘security’. But the facts are facts; they are documented.
And you know it’s true.
May peace and joy grace your day in all and every meaningful way.
Cheers
Michael Seidel, writer 