Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
I’ve not read others’ posts about lessons they wished they’d learned earlier in life yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if others express the same lesson learned which I learned, a lesson I’ve learned several times. It’s simple: trust yourself. Though I’m not the smartest or wisest individual, I need to trust my intelligence. Though not the most talented, trust my talents. Pay attention to the little voice when it’s trying to encourage me and pay attention when it’s warning me.
Pause, here, to note, I feel naked staking this claim, naked, vulnerable, egotistical, and needy. But I’m swallowing those things to push myself to be honest and open here, to share this so that others can take a lesson from my lesson.
My self-confidence was frequently smothered when I was young. I kept getting bludgeoned by a stepfather who told me I was stupid. He told me that all the time: “You’re stupid. You don’t think.” That recurring process eroded my self-confidence. I started shutting my mouth, retiring to a place to be stupid by myself, becoming a loner. I was and am comfortable as a loner, so that wasn’t that great a change. But my doubt about my potential was really a killer. Since I stayed quiet and didn’t participate in things, I constantly surprised classmates with high test scores, good grades, and accomplishments. When honors came my way later, people were astonished. Then, later, people nicknamed me ‘The Professor’.
Yet, I continued to doubt my skills and abilities. I still do. Everything I attempt requires not one but several pep talks. That usually accompanies procrastination until I build up the courage to make an attempt to myself out, to brace myself to be exposed as an imposter. It also causes me to overtry, which can also end in bad results. In short, like bunches of other people, I’m a headcase.
I have come a long way. Some minor successes have fed that. My wife’s trust in me has fed it, too. So have comments and support from friends and bosses. And teachers; my teachers often saw and cultivated good things in me, and I owe them a doubt too large to ever be fully repaid. I’ve been fortunate in that I have had good friends, good teachers, and good bosses. Despite them, I keep forgetting that lesson about myself. My self-confidence gets smothered again and again. I still hear my stepfather telling me, “You’re stupid.” I do keep learning the lesson that I’m not, but I wish I could keep that lesson in the forefront of my being: trust yourself. You’re not stupid.
You’re better than you imagine yourself to be.
I want to believe. But the rug was pulled out from under me last November. I’m leery of trust and hope. They used to be my friends. Now they let me down.
I read a Brian Tyler Cohen post. Petitioning the King. Cohen writes well. Intelligently. Persuasively. Mr, Cohen says,
It’s clear by now that Trump’s imposition of tariffs has been a disaster. The market has crashed, wiping away all gains since he took office, companies are laying off employees by the hundreds, fears of a recession are reaching a fever pitch, and far from pressuring other countries into coming to the negotiating table, they’re going around the United States and entering into new trade agreements without us. New reporting suggests that Japan and South Korea are coordinating with China to respond to our tariffs. How’s that for 4D chess? At a time when American superiority is threatened by China, Trump is driving other countries into the arms of China.
And so given how disastrous these tariffs are on the economy, and given how potent the issue of high costs are (Trump himself admitted that he won the 2024 election as a result of high costs), it would lend itself to reason that he would want to avoid this like the plague. Even someone like Trump (who can’t bring himself to admit fault because he views any capitulation as a sign of weakness) can see how disastrous this is and should want to cut his losses.
Which raises the question: why plow ahead?
Right on dubious schedule, Trump announced a 90 day suspension on tariffs for all nations except his arch enemy, home to his products, China. So Trump is not plowing ahead.
Could it be that his falling poll numbers changed Trump’s mind?
Perhaps it was the turning of the worms like Joe Rogan, Mitch McConnell, Ted Cruz, and Thom Tillis.
Maybe Trump had a good game of golf. It could be that he saw that shares of DJT were down, affecting his personal wealth, or he noticed that crytocurrency had precipitiously dropped.
I personally doubt it was any of those things. They would indicate logic, consistency, personal reflection, things that Trump doesn’t do. I think he did it to amuse himself because he likes being the talk of the world. He’s that kind of egomaniac.
I think Brian Tyler Cohen may posit it’s something else. He finishes:
Now comes the hopeful part: we’re wise to his plan.
There is a reason that the Trump administration suddenly rescinded the nomination of Elise Stefanik to be UN ambassador, fearing Republicans would lose a seat in a district that Trump won by 21 points in November. And they saw what happened in Wisconsin, where Trump-endorsed conservative candidate Brad Schimel lost by 10 points in a 50-50 state. And they saw what happened in Florida, where even though Democrats lost a pair of special elections, the races saw an average 16-point swing to the left. And on Saturday, they saw millions of Americans take to the streets to protest their overreach. This matters because this administration derives its power from the perception that it is untouchable and can act with impunity. The fact that Americans are standing up, turning out, and fighting back threatens their entire power structure. I know it doesn’t feel like we have much to celebrate, but I want to be clear: the energy, the momentum, and the enthusiasm is on one side right now, and it’s not Donald Trump’s.
Boy, I’d sure like to believe Mr. Cohen. But one thing my recent experience has taught me is, don’t get too hopeful.
That’s probably Trump’s plan: keep folks like me from getting too hopeful.
He’s diabolical in that way.
My computer was struck by one of those scams that declare my computer was infected. Which was BS. Easy enough to spot them because they’re a phishing effort to get you to download something or call someone, and they put multiple popups up. Anyone who has dealt with a true anti-virus program and a real virus knows that’s not how these things go down.
Anyway, I use several browsers on my ‘puter. This one struck Chrome. That made it easier to get rid of. Just a quick and simple reset took care of that. Worse part of that was the time it took to reset, and it signed me out of everything. But those are small struggles compared to the annoyance of having those fake things trying to instill fear in me. See, that’s how they play: trying to make you afraid of what has happened.
Just like at a Trump rally.
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.
Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.
First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.
Me: I did? What is it?
“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”
I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?
“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”
This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.
“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”
The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.
I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.
I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.
Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.
I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”
“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”
I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”
I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”
I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.
Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.
I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.
Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”
Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”
I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”
“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”
“I think you’re wrong.”
Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”
Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”
But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.
Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.
“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”
Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.
Five dreams are remembered this morning. Takes a while to process them. I usually do this in bed, eyes closed, pulling out their sequences. What normally happens is that I have a dream and wake up with it in mind, process it, and return to sleep. Then I dream again and repeat the process. Later, I sit and freehand the dreams. Sometimes, when the dreams become larger, more involved and remembered, I type them up. And sometimes I post that result, usually without any insights I acquired, just presenting the raw dream. In this instance, because there were five sharply remembered dreams, I just wanted to share intriguing aspects of two.
I was with my father. It was Christmas. His third wife was there, too. I’d brought twelve gifts meant for my cousins. Several of those cousins are dead. I knew that in the dream. When I showed Dad what I’d bought for who, I actually said, “Even though he died,” when I introduced their gifts. Dad laughed at that and I responded, “They’re dead but they still deserve a gift.”
Gifts included beer, pastries, pasta, and books. I explained to Dad when describing the gifts, showing them to him, why I selected each present. Dad seemed particularly surprised by the beer, which was a German Pilsner with a flippy top, which were common in Germany when I lived there.
What happened next is that I went off for a bit, returning to find that Dad gave away several of the presents to the people because he forgot buy them. So instead of a gift for my cousin, Jeff, for example, Dad gave it to his nephew, Jeff. That left me speechless. In Dad’s usual style, he laughed off my protests and explained that he just said it was from both of us so what difference does it make? The people received the gift, which is the intent of the gift being bought.
I didn’t fully buy into Dad’s position but decided yes, the person getting the gift was most important, so why be an asshole about it?
He later asked me if I had other gifts to give people, because he didn’t buy gifts for others but he thought he should receive a gift. I laughed at him, mocking his lack of preparation and planning, but took him to a white chest freezer and began pulling things out. He asked me why I put them into the freezer. I answered, “Ask your wife. She gets it.”
The other dream had a segment involving a vase. I was in a dim warehouse sort of building, metal, with high, dull lights. Items were stacked on shelves, creating a labyrinth, and lots of shadowy places.
White and tall, with flowers and dragons painted on it, the vase had several cutouts. I noticed the vase and remarked on its beauty. When I did that, one of vase’s cutouts yawned wider and issued a black cloud. I jumped back, pushing the others with me back to avoid it. We discussed, “What is that?” Several, including me, believed it to be poison. We wanted to get out of there fast but there was only one narrow path out. The vase was up on a shelf at head level along the path.
We needed to pass the vase to leave, we found, because we found every other way blocked. Two attempts were made to race past the vase but it moved each time, growing larger and growling at us. Finding a hammer, I attempted to attack it. The vase counter attacked, growling more and growing larger again, issuing more scary black gas. The vase’s cutouts now had teeth.
Someone said, “You have to get rid of that vase.”
“I know,” I answered. Swinging the hammer, I knocked the vase onto the floor. It rolled toward us in a rush. I hurdled it, but it was trapping others. I rushed the vase. It spun around me. Jumping back, I dropped the hammer. Teeth bared and roaring, the vase charged me. Dodging it, I pulled a shelf partially over, stopping it from getting me. I spotted an old black, portable television on a shelf. Grabbing the television, I lifted it over my head and slammed it down on the vase. The television and vase both broke. Enough of the television remained for me to hit it again with the television.
The vase pieces were trying to come back together. Someone threw the hammer to me. It bounced on the cement floor. I seized it and hit the larger pieces of the vase. The vase hissed out wisps of the black cloud. I started kicking its pieces around, shouting at the others to run past it and escape. After the last of them had gotten past, I picked up the largest piece of vase, threw it across the warehouse, turned and ran.
Michael Seidel, writer 