Tag: confusion

Navigating Some Changes: A Dream

It started weird.

In my mid-twenties, I’d been somewhere, had a few drinks, went home. At home was an old girlfriend, visiting someone else, staying the night. Morning broke with sunshine through windows. I realized she was leaving and wanted to get up to say good-bye.

I could not move.

Paralyzed isn’t quite the word. I had no control. My limbs were flopping, weak, uncoordinated.

How did this happen? I kept asking myself. I didn’t much the night before, struggling to remember what I’d eaten, concluding, not much. I suspected someone had spiked my drink.

Thinking over the previous night, my memory pulled up a hypothetical scene where a man dropped something into my dream. I couldn’t guess his motivation and speculated he thought my drink belonged to someone else.

Then, damn – I’m late for work.

In the military again, I scrambled to find a clean uniform and shit, shower, shave.

Rushing out of the house, I headed for a train station and realized, I’m in Germany and I don’t know where I’m going. Nor did I speak the language.

There were long lines and a byzantine system of turns and steps. Putting together clues from what I saw others do, but screwing up, I sometimes got scolded – in German. I studied landmarks for more evidence about where I was, where I was going, then made it to work.

I was just a little late. Eventually I explained to the commander that I thought someone else had spiked my drink. He eagerly agreed, recapping my symptoms and then explaining the same thing happened to him the night before. That greatly relieved me, knowing someone else had gone this. I sensed that he felt the same.

I need to go somewhere else, they told me. Out in the system again, I tried putting pieces together to get to the right place and ended up going too far. Figuring that out, I backtracked until I found the right station. I realized we were sometimes going through people’s personal lands. They were very particular about what was permitted but sometimes changed it. For example, one old, white hair man opened up a door as a shortcut, apparently on a whim. An elderly gray-haired female chastised us when we considered using part of her walk as a shortcut.

Then it was time to go home. I had to figure out where to go, what to do, but fewer people were available. I had to figure it out on my own.

Dream end.

0

The Building Dream

I was in a dark building, but then was outside it, adjacent to it. The building was red brick but I didn’t see much of it. I don’t know what I was doing there. The whole thing seemed murky.

A woman who reminded me of one of my sisters approached and told me, “I can do this.”

I thought, do what? What is going on here?

She then proceeded to quickly build a piece of wall of horizontal wooden planks painted dark forest green.

How the hell is that going to do anything, I thought. What is she up to?

She put her dark green construction up against the red brick facade. I saw then, it was shaped exactly to fit in that space, including the angle for the roof. Further, the brick building had a slot, and she’d included a tongue which fit in there.

I was impressed but still didn’t know what was going on, or why.

Then, though, I knew whatever she was doing was working. That just floored me.

Then she complained, “Oh, no, there’s a problem. Something got away from me.”

Trying to understand that, I got up and looked over the top of her green wall. Beyond it, I saw broad, deep blue water.

I also saw a little bug flying toward me. “Is that it?” I asked. She was talking more but I couldn’t hear her. I tried talking more loudly but she kept talking.

The bug was coming on. Now I saw, mosquito. Was that the bug she meant?

Dream end.

0

Just the Facts, Please

A headline drew me in this morning.

Francis Buchholz, Scorpions’ hurricane-rocking ex-bassist, dead at 71

I enjoy the Scorpions and their music. They had many hits, and a good friend of mine was a power fan of the group.

Poor guy, I thought, thanks for the music, and gee — just a little older than me.

I opened the story and read, stopping at this paragraph:

Scorpions had already been going for years with another bassist when Buchholz, who was born Jan. 19, 1950 in Hanover, West Germany, joined.

Hold on. If Buchholz was born in 1950, how in the world of math is he 71?

I searched his name for the answer. One article said he was 75. Other places said he was 71, born in 1954. At least that math works.

I wondered, what are the facts? It reinforced my worry, erroneous information spreads too easily on the net.

No wonder we seem confused and polarized. In the digital age, you can’t always be sure of the facts — even when you look for it.

0

Thirstdaz Theme Music

It looks like we might have some fog today in Foglandia. It’s Thirstda, December 11, 2025. The fog landed on us yesterday morning and has not abated. My friend came out of meeting last night and said, “Wow, this is Jack the Ripper kind of fog.” Our forecast for today, given yesterday morning, promised sunshine and a possible record high in the low to mid-sixties. That was yesterday. Now we’re mumbling about maybe hitting 50 F. It’s 37 F now. The claims made yesterday for today have been shifted to tomorrow. Feels like a con game. Wonder how much of Trump DOGE cuts cause the diminishing weather forecast accuracy?

Another night of intriguing dreams featuring cars, women, and building had me wondering about stuff this morning. Traversing the assimilating and understanding functions of parsing the dreams inspired Les Neurons. “Clocks” by Coldplay floated into the morning mental music stream. The song’s lyrics go, “Confusion never stops. Closing walls and ticking clocks. Gonna come back and take you home. I could not stop that you now know, singing.” Which pretty well reflected part of one remembered dream sequence. Actually, minus the clocks. It was but the sentiment of confusion.

Speaking of the sentiment of confusion, have you heard Deceiving Donny’s recent speeches? Yes, he’s a rambling vocal trainwreck. Naturally, MAGA reactions are, “But Biden.” Always looking to the past, they are, always hunting for an escape route to avoid facing reality. Read a piece which tickled me from MPS, Case Study: In Your Guts, You Know He’s Nuts.

Yes, we know he’s nuts. So does AI as it reviews some sample shitalk outta the great mango babbler. Trump’s probably the greatest babbler the world has ever known. He can babble like no babbler has ever babbled before. People listening to him often remark, “What an amazing babbler. What a stunning babbler.” After listening to Dizzy Donny’s babbling, people often march up, shake his hand, and say, “Sir, that was the most beautiful babbling I’ve heard the pleasure of hearing.” One man said he told Trumpy Dumpty, “In my two hundred fifty years of life, I’ve never heard greater babble coming out of anybody like this before, let alone the President of the United States. What babble! Amazing babble! BEAUTIFUL BABBLE!!!”

I was with friends having a beer and talking last night. One related the death of his brothers. One older, one younger. Both being treated. One was denied Oregon’s “Death with dignity” to pursue assisted suicide because he was being treated and following a course of stuff supposed to fight the disease, etc. But the side effect of said treatment were blood clots which caused strokes, diminishing his capacity to speak, move, breathe, etc. Sickening and exasperating.

On that note, time to rev up the life engine and plunge into my daily routines. Which mostly circulates around going out and writing. Writing is going well but consumes so much life band. My wife is tremendously accommodating of my efforts. She deserves several prizes. Hope I can reward her faith and support with success someday. Meanwhile, onward. Cheers

2

Life in Trump’s Alternative World

My wife and I climbed into the car. I started the engine. After over revving it, I began driving in reverse. My wife asked, “Why are we in reverse?”

“Everyone says that you get better mileage in reverse.” I swung the transmission into drive. “Now I think I’ll go this way.” I turned on the windshield wipers.

My wife peered into the sunlit blue sky. “Why are the windshield wipers on?”

“We need gas,” I declared. “We don’t have enough money for a full tank.”

“I’m starving,” my wife replied. “I thought we were going out for dinner. Where can we get something to eat?”

“We don’t have money for food. Just hold on.” I pulled into a miniature golf course. “I think I’ll play a game.”

My wife objected, “I didn’t think we have the money.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get more money.”

I went in and paid for the game. Before teeing off, I went back to the car. Jumping in, we drove off.

My wife looked around in puzzlement. “Where are we going?”

“Straight ahead.”

“This is the opposite direction of where we were going.”

“Don’t worry, I’m taking a short cut.”

“What happened to your miniature golf game?”

“I played it. Set a new record. I was stripes.”

“But you weren’t gone five minutes.”

“I know. It was the fastest golf game ever. I scored more points than anyone in the game’s history.” I steered the car into the path of oncoming traffic. “They were amazed. Said they’d never seen anyone play like that. They’re giving me a special golfing medal.”

A truck almost hit us. My wife screamed. “Get on the right side of the road. What is wrong with you?”

“Don’t worry,” I replied, “they’ll get out of our way.”

The car’s engine coughed and sputtered.

“What’s wrong with the car?” my wife asked.

“I think it’s the wind,” I answered, throwing open the door.

My wife gasped. “What are you doing? The car’s still moving. You’re going to get yourself killed.” Leaning across, she grabbed the wheel and began steering.

After turning on the radio, I leaped out of the car and rolled across a lane. A car screeched to a halt, almost hitting me. Leaving their car and coming toward me, the driver said, “Oh my God, I almost hit you. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Beaming, I took off my shirt. “Aren’t I ripped?” I nodded toward my car as my wife managed to steer and stop it. “It’s my wife. She made me do it. She’s crazy. Doesn’t know a thing about flying. She shouldn’t be allowed near a boat.”

Stepping in front of a car, I waved my arms. “Help, help. Call the police. This guy’s trying to kill me.”

2

Thirstdaz Theme Music

It’s another Thirstda. With it, I realized, we’re on the cusp of August’s middle. Today is August 14, 2025.

We have a mild cooling trend underway. 68 F now, today’s high will peak at 86 F, falling from 93 F yesterday. Tomorrow is projected to be cooler yet. Rain is expected Satyrda and Sunda, with respective highs of 78 and 80 F.

I admit, I’ve never paid close attention to the Trumps. It shows; I often confuse the Trump women – Ivana, Ivanka, Marla, Melania. Lot of times, my Neurons will roll over and declare that Trump is married to Ivanka, his daughter. I suspect it’s my brain responding to casual connections projected in social media prompting my confusion. Anyway, Mea culpa.

An article I read asked and pursue the same questions in my mind about planned Trump’s White House ballroom construction: surely things like this are subject to oversight, permits, laws and regulations. The article reported that Trump has not applied for any permits. I, of course, snickered about that. I easily imagine Trump wiping out those requirements with his patented triad of weapons, the executive order, lies, and bullying. If oversight agencies aren’t checking him on other matters, why would anyone be naive enough to believe heritage, construction, and safety laws and regs will be applied? We know they won’t. This ‘law and order’ POTUS is pretty damn lawless. Part of his lawless path was charted by the Roberts Court, who decided something like, if the President does it as part of his official duties, it’s okay. So, there. He can build whatever unsafe, unregulated tacky outhouses that he wants on the land the We the People own. We the People can’t do a damn thing about it except write posts, protest, and call our elected reps. Oh yes, and try to vote him and that whole cancerous mass out of office.

Today’s theme music was caused by my wife. She and I were talking about a television show, Misfits, which we used to watch. She said, “Remind me.” With little thought, Les Neurons began playing the 2001 Nickelback song, “This Is How You Remind Me” in the morning mental music stream. This is how The Neurons work. All that’s needed is a tiny jiggle of a small connection between a song and a moment and they’re off!

Coffee is watering my nerves and energy is blooming in me anew. Time to risk getting dressed and going outside and interact with other humans. Hope grace and peace find you today and every day. Cheers

5

Munda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

If you have a brain, and some thinking skills, the full Trumpasy is all revealed. Just check out the Trump Regime’s actions. Look at the ‘One Big Beautiful Bill’. Read again Project 2025.

  1. Redistribute wealth to the wealthy. They need it to ‘build the economy’. This is called trickle down economics. It has been decisively proven not to work.
  2. Start shredding the welfare net. Cut Medicaid. Force people to work more.
  3. Cut all assistance contributed by the Federal government to the states and local communities. Downtrodden existences lead to downtrodden morale. A sick people is a desperate people, and are more easily manipulated.
  4. De-construct the education system. An uneducatd population is more guillible. Indoctrinate young people into right wing values via vouchers and private schools.
  5. Manufacture and reinforce negative stereotypes of other citizens, people who ‘are different’, i.e., people who are not heterosexual and white. This is useful for blame games and distraction, and helps neuter political will.
  6. Weaponize ICE into a paramilitary force. While laws limit what the US military is authorized to do to citizens, it’s a more wide-open field with ICE. Under the guise of rounding up ‘illegal immigrants’, the Trump Regime are also undermining due process and the concepts of ‘innocent until proven guilty’. People are being disappeared as the right-wing social media machine provides cover by declaring that the Constitution isn’t meant to be applied to ‘non-citizens’.
  7. Establish concentration camps. The first one has been built in Florida, of course. Don’t be surprised if Texas eagerly builds one in the race to be patriotic by refusing others equality, rights, and freedom. Disappearing people and creating concentration camps stoke fears and can be used to threaten political opposition.
  8. Build a right-wing Supreme Court bias that’s willing to overlook history and precedence, one which will used flawed interpretations of the U.S. Constitution to empower the Executive Branch and wipe out the checks and balance system provided by three equal branches.
  9. Weaponize trade. Try to force manufacturing back to the United States, even though the raw materials are obtained elsewhere, and even though the capital investments needed for new factories are astronomical. This provides a false hope of new jobs; there will be new jobs but they won’t pay wages needed to live in this ever expensive land, forcing people to work more, no matter their health or situation. This will also increase people’s desperation to work and make money to pay for basic goods and services such as food and housing, as prices see tariff-based inflation bound upward.
  10. But — also cut limitations on child labor laws. Encourage poor poeple to have more children to provide a larger and cheaper work force.
  11. Cut or waive environmental laws and regulations to reduce the cost of building new manufacturing facilities.
  12. Nurture confusion among facts and distrust of the news media. Confusion helps the Regime maintain control by undermining grass root organizations’ ability to effectively organize and protest. It also allows the Regime to turn citizen against citizen in a cold war that favors the Trump Regime’s heavy hand.
  13. Distract, distract, distract. In this endeavor, natural disasters are your friend; they pull focus from the political arena. Reduce the Federal government’s effectiveness in predicting disasters and helping states and communities. Again, chaos, confusion, and low morale are useful for controlling and manipulating the population. As a bonus, when a natural disaster levels a region, it opens up land and opportunity to rebuild. People with next to nothing can be more easily induced to take less pay for bad jobs.
  14. Attack other nations; encourage aggression among other nations. Make the world a scarier place.

Yes, this is cynical. It’s not my thinking, but my interpretation of what the Trump Regime and the Republican-filled Greedy Ol’ Trump Party, also known as the GOTP, is doing. Show me I’m wrong. Point to Trump’s actions and demonstrate otherwise. Parse that OBBB for clues that this is not what the Trump Regime pursues.

Time will tell. It’s already told us a great deal in the first six months of 2025.

1

Sunda’s Theme Music

It’s warmer but cloudier in Ashlandia. Like several other things that could be mentioned, I’m not certain what’s going to happen. For Ashlandia’s weather, it’s 57 F. Clouds have pressed blue sky into the background. Sunshine is a hopeful possibility but rain is in the forecast.

For the United States, markets are dropping. Our government systems are being deliberatedly sabotaged in an effort to ‘make them better’. At national parks, the Trusk Regime is telling park employees to do more with less. Measles are spreading. Vaccinations are down. Tariffs are up.

It’s just uncertainty in the air today, Sunda, April 6, 2025.

Despite yesterday’s outswelling of public protest about what the Trusk Regime is doing, nothing has changed. We remain at the same stuck place: one outraged side vehmently opposed to what Trump is doing. Another side supporting him with cultish fervor. A third side seemingly detached and uninvolved, showing questionable awarenss.

I’m read interviews again and again, and that’s where it lands. Given, I can’t vouch for their veracity. Written words on the net are suspect. Perhaps they’re AI creations to spin and confuse. But Trump voters still declare that DOGE is doing great things. That the tariffs are wonderful weapons in the fight to remake America. That Trump is looking out for the average person in the street. That’s what they claim they still believe.

I don’t know. I’m trying for a pragmatic tone but I’m jaded in a dozen ways. It’s still early. The tariff war’s ink is still drying. Results of many things still float through the air like shredded paper.

Without much surprise, The Neurons are playing “Land of Confusion” by Genesis from 1986 in the morning mental music stream.

Coffee has found its way into me again. Hope you find the energy and frame of mind to make this day what you need. Cheers

2

A Chaotic Mom Dream

Not surprising, given my conflicting attitudes about Mom, a chaotic dream had her front and center. My family was also there; not just my real life extended family. My dream added a few extras.

We were at some huge get together. This was at Mom’s place. It was a place I’ve never seen in real life. Ramshackled, part park and house, the boundaries between inside and out were nebulous and ever-changing. So were the rooms. I kept getting a little lost but then recovering and figuring out where I was.

Meanwhile, my relatives were a chaotic bunch. A person who dislikes chaos as much as cats dislike loud noises, I took charge and imposed order, telling each what they should do. I couched it in a way that it sounded like advice. Agreeing to my suggestions, they packed food, piled into cars, and left.

Ah, the silence was comfortable. Then Mom hurried in. Loose piles of money had been on one table. I remembered seeing it, I agreed. It was all gone, Mom said, frantic. She thought someone broke in and stole it.

I challenged that. She didn’t see anyone break in. No evidence of a break in was there. It was possible that the family took the money. Wasn’t that why the money was there? Mom bickered with me about it a bit, changing the history and the reason the money was there. I grew weary of it as I realized that nothing I said or did would appease her. Suggesting she call the other family members and talk to them, I wandered off.

Then came the dream’s climax. I sat down and picked at my little toe’s toe nail. This would be toe number five. The small toe. I picked at the nail; it felt like the nail was loose. Like something was under it. Unable to help myself, I conducted some prying with a finger nail.

My little toe’s top lifted off. Like the top quarter inch.

It was a bloodless event. Beneath it was another small toe nail. My toe was intact, just stubbier. To cap matters off, I did the same thing with the other toe.

Then I tossed the two toe tips aside, amusing myself with how Mom would react when she saw them, chuckling to myself about what my wife would say about my new truncated toes. I was dubious she would notice.

Dream end.

0

An Unsettling Dream

I didn’t know what to make of this offering last night from the Dream Neurons.

It was another military dream. I was in this crowded location. Nothing about it was wholly clear. A senior NCO, I looked like myself from my last years in the military before I retired.

As I say, very crowded. Mostly officers. Mostly Air Force, but a few from the others services were present.

Narrow room. Seemed like an operations center but none of the typical comm gear and crypto was in sight.

My commander, a colonel and short, blonde woman who looked remarkably like Sandi Toksvig, cornered me. “I have to go out,” she said. “Keep an eye out for those guys.” I knew which guys she meant. They were basically rogue, either on a mission they’re weren’t supposed to be on, or away without authorized leave.

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“If thy show up, and we think they will, immediately call security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and I vaguely wandered about the place. It didn’t take long for the missing men to show. All were tall, young, and fit. None were in uniform.

All of my officers were pleased to see them. A generally jovial spirit emerged as my guys greeted the new guys. An impromptu party seemed in the making.

But I had to do my duty. It was going to be ugly because everyone else were overjoyed with the rogue guys’ presence. That put me in some emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. But it had to be done.

So, I balked. I told the senior officer present what had transpired between the commander and me, and the directions to call security on the rogues. He listened, displeased. I finished, “I’m calling security, but I didn’t want it to be a surprise.”

He spread the news to the rest. Their expressions darkened. Sullen silence soon prevailed. I made the call.

The rogues slipped out as soon as I called. The officers immediately began disparaging me. The senior officers and a few others defended me; I was following orders. Doing my duty. That little mollified them or me.

The senior officer, one other officer, and I left for the airport. We were walking and meant to be going on some duty travel. I ran into my commander and informed her about what’d transpired. She told me, “Good job, you did what was needed.” We seperated.

I caught up with my traveling companions at the airport. It was a chaotic mess. Remaining outside we milled with others, trying to learn where to go for our flight. While that was going on, a gigantic giraffe loomed over the top of the trees.

Excited children pointed at it and shouted. I stared, incredulous. The animal was bigger than what I thought was normal for a giraffe. Also, WTF was a giraffe doing at an airport? Also, the giraffe looked fake, like it was made of aluminum and then painted. Who would do that?

We found our flight and boarded. There weren’t any seats. All of us were forced to stand. That was okay because the flight was over in an eyeblink.

We began disembarking. The senior officer sketched his plans and then asked me, “And what are you going to do?” in a booming voice.

I replied, “Whatever you need me to do, sir.”

“Do what you want. Just don’t nuke anyone.”

Weird thing to say, I thought. “I won’t, sir.”

Dream end.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑