The Divorce & Money Dream
My wife and I divorced. We then went on a vacation together, where we stayed in a mid-range luxury condo. Her sisters were there, in adjoining places, along with their children. We were all younger than in RL by thirty years or so. My wife – B – and I had dinner and then attended a presentation on the environment and climate change in a huge, packed auditorium lit with golden chandeliers. The speaker was a good-looking man with a gold tan who had bestselling books on the subjects. My wife met him after the presentation. They fell in love and married.
I went back to my condo. My wife came to visit. We could see into her new husband’s place, as it was next door. Large and modern, it featured realms of glass. Golden lights lit it inside. B told me that the home was enormous, taking up two entire floors of the luxury townhomes next door, and that her new husband was dying. He passed the next day, leaving everything to B. She announced that as part of that, she was receiving over $13,000 a month in royalties.
I was happy for her but startled by that amount. We’d been there for almost a week and I needed to leave soon. I didn’t have reservations to fly out but had a day and a half left before I needed to get back so I decided not to make reservations yet. I was very busy at that point. The condo had become a little cluttered with piles of coins. My nieces and nephews began collecting them and taking them to my sisters-in-law and wife, who kneeled on the carpet divided the piles of coins among themselves. This didn’t worry or bother me because I’d discovered large caches of cash which belonged to me. I was happy for them to take the coins, but every time I turned around, I discovered another pile of coins.
Then, oh no, I was late for leaving and I hadn’t made a reservation! I chastised myself, thinking if I had made reservations, I wouldn’t be late because I would have had more structure. I succeed more with structure.
A man came by and informed me that I needed to leave, and that if I didn’t I would be fined. I laughed at the threat and noted that I had cash on hand and my ex was receiving $13,000 a month in royalties. The man left. I told the rest of my party that I needed to leave and would be departing shortly. My ex-wife said something back about the need to take care of her new inheritance. She was to go into her ‘new place’ to inventory its contents. I asked her about the hold up, and she said, “There’s a lot of places,” and held up keys. One key ring with keys were hanging on another key ring of keys. “He has places all over town. And you should see the cars.”
Dream end
Thursday’s Theme Music
Ah, today is Thursday, May 26, 2022. Sunrise came around without much surprise at 5:41 this morning. Clouds have strung out a thin haze on top of the blue sky. Today’s sun is weaker, thinner, milder. It’s 70 F outside. The high will probably find 76 around my house before the sun takes it light and moves on at 8:36 PM.
Today’s song emerges from many different things, partly from interactions with cats, but also from news and politics. The song is “Maybe” by Janis Joplin. Janis didn’t write it but did a great job of delivering it. My mind was full of maybes, you know, maybe this will happen, maybe people will wake up and changes will grow roots and places. Ultimately, I’m an optimist, always looking for the arcs of justice and freedom to bend toward equality, and for humanity to come together and find and develop solutions instead of whining, bickering, and backstabbing. But also, I went outside at 11:30 last night. The cats were out; Papi, aka Meep, the ginger blade, is usually out back. So I popped the door open and waited for him to arrive. Nothing.
The air was cool, the sky was clear, dark, and quiet, and the stars and planets and galaxies were up there, enticing me to step out and take them in. I was out there, breathing in air and admiring heavenly bodies, when I heard Papi’s familiar mewing. I called him; the mewing grew louder but more frantic. Although dark, I can usually discern his pale body. I couldn’t. I called again; louder and more urgent answers were returned.
WTF, over. I turned on the patio light to find him. Walking around, we engaged in call and response. And finally, thinking I was hot on his trail, I speculated, “Maybe he’s up in the tree.” He then looked down at me from the gutter attached to the roof about five feet above my head. Anyway, he got down fine on his own once I walked over to where the height difference between the fence and the roof was lowered to three feet. He jumped down there, no problem. I imagine that’s where he went up but that he became disoriented.
But that maybe, along with the other maybes, had stirred up the neurons. By this morning, “Maybe” was playing in the morning mental music stream. Yes, the song is about personal relationships, but I was hooked on that chorus – “Maybe, maybe, maybe.” Now, of course, I had to find a video or recording of it. Luck was with me as I found her on Ed Sullivan belting out “Maybe” in 1969. Love it when a plan comes together.
Stay positive, test negative, and enjoy this music while I enjoy coffee. Have a better day. Cheers
Ah, Another Military Dream
I was a younger man, actually my age when I retired from the military in RL. I was dressed in a common uniform of the day, the woodland camouflage battle dress that I often wore.
I’d been invited back for a visit. In most of my assignments, contact was limited to a dozen people in a unit; I worked in a command post, one to three people to a shift, locked in a vault-like space. No windows, one door, eight to twelve hours a shift. People weren’t allowed in without proper clearance, previous approval, and a reason to be there. We were often armed, in case someone who didn’t fit those parameters broke in.
But there was one unit where I worked regularly with aircrews, the training staff, admin, etc. Everyone had access to me, and me to them. This was the unit where I felt closest to my co-workers.
These were the people I was back visiting. We’d been a covert intelligence unit back in the day, but the Berlin Wall fell, the USSR collapsed, and our mission ended. I went back to the US to Space Command. Many in that unit went on to special ops, gunships, or on loan to do drug interdiction on behalf of the DEA. It was this last that was going on in the dream.
We were outside in a large field. I was back by special invitation to watch a military operation, and people from then were back by invitation to see me. Several came back and told me what they’d done since we’d last seen one another thirty years ago. One of the last, Capt. Z, said, “I think it’s time for me to go.” He was hesitant to speak. I said, “No, you’re too young. You still have more to give.”
He shrugged. “I think it’s time. I don’t have a choice.”
He left. The operation progressed. An officer said, “Now Priscilla will explain how the unit coordinates with other agencies to intercept and track illegal drug activities.” Priscilla began leading several squadrons of personnel in military uniforms across a wide street.
As I watched that, I realized that it was Priscilla, a RL friend from my current era, a college professor who had never been in the military. I thought, why is she here?
Dream end.
Floofvision
Floofvision (floofinition) – 1. An added layer of telecommunications visible and audible to animals but beyond human comprehension.
In use: “Boo and Oliver enjoy sitting by the television, watching floofvision, which brings them up-to-date infloofmation about animals, new floofnology, and general enterfloofment.”
2. Formally, an organization founded by a woman to end animal abuse.
In use: “Raven tells everyone everywhere, whomever and wherever she meets them, about Floofvision and her goal of a world free of animal abuse. Humans are starting to pay attention, but the animals are beginning to flock toward her as a new Floofsiah.”
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Today is Wednesday, March 23, 2022. I’m still processing my friend’s death yesterday, Mike. It’s remote and abstract to me at this point, astonishing and bewildering. My neurons follow paths for what it must be like in Ukraine as people lose their friends and loved ones suddenly to gunfire and explosion. That life is so treasured to us, that people’s deaths leave such gaping holes, that we work so hard on medicine and health, exercising and dieting to prevent sickness and death, and then that humans kill one another for bizarre fucking reasons when other avenues of co-existence are available, renders me to sighs and head shaking.
A faded azure sky embraces the sun. Full spring is in effect. Sunrise came at 7:09 AM and sunset will take at 7:26 PM. It’s 56 degrees F right now, on its way to a 68 F high. Should be a lovely day.
My beer group is meeting tonight. Mike was a large part of that. Plans had been made for me to hand off a book that was loaned to me, giving it to Mike because he was visiting with the book’s owner. Now, change.
Meanwhile sick cat steadily declines. Eating is next to impossible for him due to tumors. I have the back door open, and he made his way out to sit in the sunshine on the patio. Papi has made a solid recovery. I had the door open yesterday afternoon, and that boy galloped in and out, tail up, playing hide and seek with me. Tucker is solidly recovered, too, reclaiming his space on the bed by my head last night, talking to me this morning about his food and drink requirements, and eating with gusto.
My cheeky neurons are playing Del Shannon’s “Runaway” from 1961 in the morning mental music stream. I was five when it came out, but it was a big hit and part of the AM rock and roll rotation for years.
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax.
