Two Dreams

‘I’ wasn’t in this dream, which was more like the ‘television dreams’ which I sometimes experience.

Three people were renting a place together for vacation. One was a gay male. I don’t remember the other two much, as ‘the camera’ mostly focused on him.

It was the vacation’s final day so they were talking about leaving.  The house was cluttered and messy from their time there – pizza boxes and take-out food containers, dishes on counters, etc. They were being vague about what to do but when remembered seeing a move-out checklist. Remembering roughly where it was on the counter, they pulled out a typed-up two-page checklist.

The group began reading from it. One of them took a half-eaten piece of pizza from a box and began eating it, disgusting the others. He mocked them, saying, “It’s only a little old and hard.”

They were then outside, walking back and up toward the vacation place. It had a broad glassed-in overhang above a double garage with a cement drive.

Large, thick tree branches were on the drive on either side. They discussed that the branches probably fell during a storm a few days before. The gay guy wanted to chop up the branches and remove them as a nice gesture. He seemed very excited about doing it while the others hung back. Getting an axe, he lined up a branch to cut it apart and took an ineffectual swing.

Dream end

Second dream…a short time later…

Very messy dream. I was there, and my wife, and others, but many were coming and going. We were preparing to go out, and it seems like we were investigating something but as a social group. I think there was a core of three to give but things were weakly framed.

We were in an apartment. My neighbor, Wade, was in the opposite apartment. We were dressing, and I was dressed first, and was wearing a light gray suit, I think with a light yellow shirt. I remember thinking it odd.

To both kill time and because I had an idea that I thought would help, I went to Wade’s place. I was doing it furtively because I didn’t want the rest to know. I also was ambiguous about being in Wade’s place. He hadn’t given explicit permission, but I felt that he would have if asked. But, that hadn’t been asked, so it felt like a gray area.

But I knew Wade harbored a device to create a sort of document which could help us. I went over to use that. I was trying to be quick but things went wrong and the device wasn’t as easy to use as expected.

While I was in there, another person arrived and ‘caught me’. I explained that it was Wade’s – which they knew – but tried avoiding explaining why I was there, trying to put things back to how they were.

I then went back over to the apartment, where my wife was ready and talking about doing something. Another had some stuff. They said if you shake it over your eyes, it reveals that there are some insects there. My wife was eager to have this done on herself and me, saying that it was something that she wanted to do for a long time and disparaging me because ‘I never wanted to do it’.

The guy came over, told me to close my eyes and kept them closed. He then sprinkled stuff on them and then said, “Oh wow, look how many Michael has.” It was sort of gleeful in a horrified way. I asked, “What do I do about them?”

Then I looked in a mirror. I confirmed some small black insects were crawling around my eyes but I was horrified with how my hair looked. It was wet and sloppy, so I tried fixing it.

I think there was a little more to the dream, but this is what I remember.

Sunda’s Theme Music

Rain took its drops and went elsewhere. Though clouds stayed, sunshine rushed in. A swirly, restless day was had. Hot in direct sun, chilly in shadow when the wind played. We did see 66 F at our house. Now it’s dropping, expecting to stoop to the 40s overnight. Tomorrow, we’ll do it again.

For the record, this is Sunda, Mai 18, 2025.

I’ve been busy all day. This was the culmination of a cleaning project. Ashlandia and Recology were taking in trash and electronics free of charge this weekend at the transfer station. This inspired my wife and I to declare we’ll do some cleanup and rid ourselves of unused and broken old items. Beginning Twosda, I pulled, cleaned, inspected, and decided on what to do with stuff which we’d accumulated and didn’t seem to be using. I consulted with my wife as necessary. Like, we have three big boxes of china. It’s a formal dinnerware setting for twelve, acquired in Germany over a period fro 1988 to 1991. We’ve probably used them a half dozen times, and not any time in the last decade. Much of it was awarded to me as prizes in monthly, quarterly, and annual competitions at a base or specific units. Mikasa was one of the sponsors and would often give gift certificates. My wife used ones I won to buy china. No, we didn’t pitch the china. We put it aside to give to a friend who will take it to a charity boutique. A few times a year they have a big sale and include things like china. Proceeds help offset people’s cost for hospice.

My wife’s health kept her sidelined during Operation Cleanup. But I enjoyed the solitary work. While I put in a couple hours every day after writing, today was the load up and drop off. The SUV was backed up and configured. Loading began at 10:15. By 11:30, I was ready for the dump trip. I hit the line at 11:45 and inched the vehicle to the gate at 12:30. They directed me to trash and electronics, which covered my contributions. By 1 PM, I was back home.

Then I cleaned clean the car and reconfigured its seating and all that, and cleaned the garage and rearranged things to be more organized and take advantage of the cleared space. I just finished that at 6 PM. I sweated a few buckets today, and my feet are singing about their unhappiness like a bunch of hounds with the blues. I’m taking advantage of this time to post before I make my dinner.

Today’s song turned out to be “On A Carousel” by the Hollies. They released it in the 1960s. It’s a song about love and the up and down ride you’re on when you’re in love. I was using it to think about Trump. We’re going around and around with him as he whines about the judicial system and courts, ignores the Constitution, threatens anyone who disagrees with him, and then acts like an idiot who mated a jackass. Guess that would be a idioass or a jackiot. Did you hear about him and his video where he’s supposed to be playing “Don’t Stop Believin'” by Journey in concert? His connections with reality frays more every hour. His supporters don’s seem much better. Guess they’re holding on to their dreams.

Time to call it. Hope you had a good one. Cheers

Garbage Dream

I’m outside, kinda young. Rolling deep green grass, where a music festival is due to start. I’m excited about it but worried about unspecified stuff. I’m alone, don’t know anyone there. A few others are starting to arrive. They’re all younger, with my teenagers among them, mostly female.

I’m busy, though, boxing up containers of trash. Collecting it, putting it in boxes, sealing it up. Don’t know why I’m specifically doing it; seems to be a compulsion. People keep arriving but I keep boxing up trash. By the time I’m done, hundreds have arrived, and I have about thirty small, square boxes of trash.

I need a place to put them, and that worries me. I have some of them stacked on a small peeling white trailer which is attached to a small green minibike like one I had in my early teens. I plan to use the bike to pull the trailer and unload the garbage boxes somewhere else, but where?

There is a small white frame house. Single story, white siding, two windows on the front, a screen door in its center. I know that this is the office of the young men organizing the music festival. There are three, dark-haired young white men in their early twenties. I know this without seeing them. I can hear them talking and laughing. Part of their conversation is about me and my minibike pulling the scarred white trailer loaded with boxes of trash.

Piles of trash are not far from the house. I’m thinking about unloading my trash into this collection, but I feel guilty, as if I’m breaking a law, and that holds me back. Yet, racing around, watched by a growing number of people, I can’t find anywhere else to put the trash. I feel like this is my only choice.

Aware that I’m being watched, that others are commenting about what I’m doing, I try pulling my trailer of trash. It won’t go. I reattach the green minibike with its fat knobby tires. The little bike easily tugs the trailer across the way.

From inside the trailer, I hear the organizers discuss this development. One suggest, “It’s alright, let him be.” I feel better about that. I start unloading the trailer. People are commenting about how fast and hard I’m working. Some appreciate that I’ve cleaned up trash. Buoyed by what I hear, I quickly unload the trailer, drive back, and fill it again. Now finished, I stand still, sweating and breathing hard by my little minibike and its empty white trailer.

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