Tag: Dream

Wenzdaz Theme Music

It’s a rockandroll Wenzda in October. October 8, 2025. Another exemplary weather day for fall to show off its colors in Ashlandia. Will be about 80 F again today, though it’s 57 now, with a puppy’s nip to the air. Papi goes out and finds sunshine for his post-breakfast grooming. His orange glows in the sunshine.

The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. Many also call it the Smirkers Shutdown, because Jeffrey Epstein and Donald Trump were often smirking when they were together, as in the photo below. Reminder, it’s a weak president that lets the government shut down. So said the current POTUS in past years. This is Trump’s third shutdown, revealing him as the weakest of the weakest. Also the most cowardly. Worst negotiator in history, too. Only thing that works for him is bullying and lying. But being so weak and cowardly, he’d rather have the government shut down rather than having it revealed what’s in the Epstein Files.

Donald Trump, first on the left, and Jeffrey Epstein, second from the right, the smirkers behind the shutdown.

I’ve been re-watching an old favorite television show called Foyle’s War. The series stars Michael Kitchen as Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle. A widower with a son who joins the RAF, DCS Foyle lives and works in Hastings, investigating crimes.

Last night’s episode was about a murder in 1941 that comes after German aircraft bomb England. One bomber is shot down. Several crew members parachute to safety. We’re introduced to women working in the land army for an older farmer who is mean and spiteful. He’s killed. Foyle investigates. The Germans are captured. Foyle has a run-in with the major who collects the Germans for interrogation, etc.

After Foyle reveals all going on at the show’s end, the major apologizes to Foyle. Going on, the major explained that he lived in Heidelberg for a year. Knew many Germans. Found them gracious, civilized, etc. Foyle responds with an anecdote. A British police football team went to Germany in 1936 to play a German team. The Germans met the British, took them out for a good meal, dancing, celebrating, drinking. The next day, the British team, hungover, on little sleep, met a German team that they’d never seen before. The German team had not gone out drinking but had been in bed by ten PM. Foyle concluded, “The Germans are playing a different game, and it’s not cricket.”

As I think about a lot of things happening in the United States, that’s come to mind many times. The Republicans are playing a different game. Their goals and rules have changed. People like me are stilling playing the same game as before. That’s why the GOP keep piling up wins. Part of their changes include ignoring the will of We the People, and ignore laws, norms, history, and precedence. Those changes are anti-American to me. Yet, this is the GOP game under Trump, a culmination of a process begun decades ago, when Fox began actively functioning as a political news outlet.

Today’s song is “Boys Don’t Cry” by The Cure. It’s a dream’s outgrowth. I don’t see its connection with the dream’s contents. Seeing it differently, I guess, The Neurons plugged it into the morning mental music stream.

Coffee is being served to The Neurons. Hope peace and grace awaken and rise like a phoenix. Fingers crossed, right? Meanwhile, let’s all do the best we go. Here I go. Cheers

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The Indicators Dream

I don’t know what age I was supposed to be in this dream. I felt younger, maybe in my early middle age. Anyway, I arrived at this cluttered, jumbled location. Busy with people, we were being asked to make choices. Like many others that I overheard and witnessed, I didn’t understand exactly what was going on. Acting on haste, I checked some small pails.

The pails were plastic and different colors, like red, blue, yellow, green. They reminded me of pails which children use in a sandbox or at the beach.

In these pails were some sort of small black squares. Each had tiny white letters and numbers but were mostly blank. Nobody seemed very sure about what they were or what we were supposed to do with them, but everyone was certain that we were supposed to take some. I wasn’t sure how many to take but grabbed eight. Then, following the flow of people doing who had also made their choices, I went along the line until we came to a long messy table, one of many. Above the table, three slender, black metal slats ran parallel to the table. Many already had multiple black squares attached to them. With observation and trial and error, I discovered the metal squares were magnetic and that we were supposed to attach them to the slats. Okay, I did that.

When I did, the black squares became alive with information. Watching, I realized that they were displaying information about the people who put them up, like, for me, as example. Each black square was giving out vital signs about different body functions, is how it first appeared. Most accepted that but I saw that some were just displaying dates, but not in the usual format. Pressing the dated squares showed me events from that day. As I did that, I began understanding that the white letters and numbers gave information about what was embedded and contained codes and patterns.

Assimilating this, I began excitedly talking about my realizations. Other people were disinterested, dismissing the squares. But I grasped that the squares’ functions were actually based on their relationship and placement with each other. Calling them indicators, I started telling people, “Don’t you see? If you can go back and find the right indicators for yourself, you can know your full history. Not only that, but it can also show the future for each of us.”

Moving the squares around showed me that I was right. Pressing back against the crowd, I tried to go back to the buckets to look for better black squares.

Dream end.

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An Exercise Dream

I was with some sort of business organization. Don’t know much about it or my role. No significance about either rose during the dream.

Instead, we were being called forward to exercise. Dubious, I challenged the person calling me forward to exercise. “Seriously? We’re going to exercise now? We’re working.”

“Come on, we’re exercising twice a day and it’s time for the first exercise session,” was the response.

It really irritated me. Dressed in casual work clothes, questions swarmed my mind, like where are we going to exercise and what kind of exercise are we doing, and how long will this session last? They lined us up in two lines of eight. We looked ragged as hell, completely out of sorts. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered. Then waited.

What the hell was going on? Why weren’t we exercising? Well, we were waiting for one person. One person! My outrage soared. I heard them going around asking, “Where’s T at? Where’s T?”

“Who is T?” I asked.

“TJ Watt,” came the response.

I as incredulous. “The Steeler linebacker and edge rusher?” As they replied, “Yes,” I responded, “He works here?”

They went off to look for Watt. I turned back to the exercise group. A small, young man was in the room’s front, smearing some black stuff over his lips and lower face. “You are exercise leader?” I guessed.

“Yes.”

“I think this is really poorly organized,” I said.

Still smearing stuff over his face, he nodded. “So do I.”

Dream end.

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The Travel Dream

I was traveling on a large boat. It almost seemed like an enormous barge. Rusted and worn with use, it was safe but old, tired, and without comfort. It was also packed with fellow travelers. Most were women. I knew some, and my wife was among them.

The barge sailed on a rippling brown river so wide that the banks couldn’t be seen. We’d been traveling for days and getting close to the end. While many rode along as gossiping, resting passengers, I had a role of keeping things as organized as possible. This had me racing around. I was often on metal walks above the rest, and would look down and see what was going on as I rushed from task to task.

At one point, I was forced to go down among them. I’d stripped off clothing because I was hot. Wearing only my boxer shorts, I couldn’t find my clothes.

I didn’t care. It was important that I go down and do what was needed. My arrival in my underwear drew attention and comments. I shrugged them off. I overhead my wife undertaking explanations about ‘who I was’, but that didn’t matter to me.

Abruptly, we arrived and disembarked in a chaotic surge. I found myself driving a powerful white sedan filled with people. Racing away from the docks on surface streets, I saw a speed limit sign, 80 MPH. Stepping on the accelerator, I merged with traffic onto a huge white cement Interstate. We were going down a short hill through a curve. Ahead was an enormous hill and multiple exits listed. I called out to my wife, who was in the back seat, for instructions about where to go, demanding, “Which exit do I need to take?”

She replied, “I don’t know, I haven’t been paying attention.”

That infuriated me. I wanted to verbally berate her but then thought, why wasn’t I paying attention?

Dream end.

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Thirstdaz Theme Music

September continues for a few more days. It’s Thirstda, September 25, 2025. 74 F in Ashlandia. Blue but hazy sky. Sunshine. Reaching for 86 F. Leaves have not started freefalling but the fall color shift has begun.

A dream provides today’s music. It was a weird damn dream, featuring the strangest game of basketball ever, and a zombie sort of white man. The dream ended with me victorious in basketball, gaining others’ freedom, and then walking away, leading five others. As I left, I began singing a song made popular by The Animals, “We Gotta Get Out of this Place”. Written by Cynthia Weil and Barry Mann, it’s a powerful protest place against the pressures and conditions of modern first world life, we were become so defined by work, paying bills, and trying to stay safe. When I started singing it in the dream, the others joined in as we walked up and out of a square, concrete tunnel, sort of the kind often encountered in underground parking garages.

Just want to note, BTW, Weil and Mann also wrote the hit songs, “On Broadway”, “Kicks”, “Make Your Own Kind of Music”, “Here You Come Again”, “Walkin’ in the Rain”, and contributed to “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin'”, and “(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration”.

Whenever I think of this song or play it, I remember a childhood incident. I was eight when The Animals came on The Ed Sullivan Show to perform. Mom was very excited; she thought there would be animals singing. So we all tuned in to hear a human rock band singing this song, severely disappointing Mom.

Trump continues throwing apples at bogey threats. Now he’s pretending the violence in the United States is caused by ‘the left’. That’s how it is in his fact-free alternate reality. Actions like this lower freedom, democracy, unity, and respect. But it makes Trump feel pretty.

Deification of Charlie Kirk mounts. Put his likeness on the silver dollar, Republicans urge. Sure, cement this era’s insanity for the future to more fully and completely understand.

A government shutdown crawls closer. Trump refuses to negotiate with Democrats, chickening out once again, because he knows he’s a terrible negotiator. TACO, in control of the House and Senate, wi;th the Supreme Court backing him, has to resort to lying on the net once again in support of his alternate reality, this time claiming that Democrats want to give trillions illegal immigrants. It’s as shady and ugly as previous lies he’s made, like immigrants are eating people’s pets. His fact-free existence continues as a problem for the rest of us. From his ridiculously uninformed medical advice to his absurd grasp of history and his overinflated sense of himself, all he does breaks down centuries of trust, progress, hope, and peace.

As a bully, Trump is threatening to be cruel and stupid as part of the shutdown. That’s his normal style. Bully, bluster, blame others, and do stupid things. In this case, the WH issued guidance that it’ll use the shutdown to fire folks. “With respect to those Federal programs whose funding would lapse and which are otherwise unfunded, such programs are no longer statutorily required to be carried out,” the memo says. “RIF notices will be in addition to any furlough notices provided due to the lapse in appropriation.”

It’s part of the Trump Offal Office Circus. The GSA just announced it’s hiring people Trump let go through DOGE because getting rid of them screwed up the government. Ditto, the IRS. Now, here goes TACO down the same alternate reality hole he always goes, dragging the nation and world down with him.

I wonder what Trump’s BFF, Jeffrey Epstein, would say at this point?

Well, got coffee, so I’m good for the moment. Hope peace and grace grows stronger in the face of Trumpnanigans.

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The 503 Dream

I was with two others. We were on a black and white train. Very long but familiar, I never knew the train’s entirety but understood that it was a bullet train.

Coming into a station, I covertly leaped from the train. My goal was door 503. Reaching it, I slipped in, grabbed a syringe, and hurried back out. Outside, I looked around for authorities. With none seen, I tossed the syringe to my compatriot. With the syringe caught, he went into a train compartment. I knew he was administering something from the syringe. Impatiently, I urged him, hurry, worrying about being discovered, concerned about the train leaving the station.

My other companion came out with the syringe. He threw it back to me. I caught it and returned it to room 503, then managed to jump onto the train as it began moving. I thought I saw a soldier or police agent watching me. When I turned for a better look, they were gone.

Back in the train, my companions and I found each other and went to a private place to speak. Ensuring we were alone, one companion, younger, but white like me, with like dark, curly hair, gave an update. The shot had helped. More is still needed. I related that I thought I saw someone spying on me, and that worried me. After discussing risks, we concluded that we’d still need to get more for our friend. We’d need to be more careful, more watchful.

The train pulled into the next stop. One of my friends and I stepped off the train. The police presence was immense. We gave one another furtive, questioning looks. With time ticking, I decided to risk getting the syringe with the realization that we might not be able to get it back into the room. If that happened, the loss could be discovered. That would probably result in greater vigilance and security. All that troubled me.

I hurried away, looking for room 503. Just as I found it, I spotted a police officer following. Pretending to go elsewhere, I stole away to watch and wait for an opening. When the officer turned away, I hustled to 503. Breaking in, I grabbed a syringe and ran back out.

My companion was not in sight. Police were. I hid the syringe and fretted. At last I saw one of the others. With a glance around, I tossed the syringe to him.

He fumbled the catch. I gasped in horror, worries skyrocketing through me. He managed to find and pick up the syringe and then scurried away. The train issued a warning sound that it was time to go.

Dream end

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Satyrdaz Theme Music

A still, flat Ashlandia morning, a time of broken clouds and dissolute sunshine. The ticking clock competes with a far-off crow cawing a morning song. Satyrda, September 20, 2025. Two days before autumn but autumn feels like its taken control. 70 F, 86 F is speculated as the high. Summer is taking its last breaths.

Today’s song filling the morning mental stream is “Rebel Rebel” by David Bowie. I’m not sure why The Neurons laid down the 1975 song today. Nothing in my dreams point to this as the dream’s closing song or soundtrack. Nothing in my empty head points to why The Neurons have it playing as I do the morning deeds.

I enjoy the songs’ lyrics about confusion and rebellion, acceptance and dismissal. This live version plays with the melody. As with anything Bowie, he does it with unique style and fashion.

Hope grace and peace finds and keeps us. I know a lot of us are dubious that will happen anytime soon, if at all. I’m logically in the same arena of thought, yet, as an optimist, I still dream of a better time coming. Cheers, M

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A Cheetah Dream

I dreamed that my wife and I and several family members were traveling together. Just ending a journey together, we arrived at my house. This was a tiny but crowded place with bare cinder block walls. Included among my family was a sister and one of her daughters, and several of her grandchildren.

I was first into the house. Getting in there, I discovered a full-grown cheetah in our house. My arms were full of grocery bags, limiting what I could do. My dream brain said something like, “Holy shit, there’s a cheetah in the house.” The house was a friggin’ mess, so cluttered with junk that I struggled to walk across the floor. As I did try to walk across the floor, the cheetah gently took hold of my shirt tail in its mouth and tried pulling me in another direction.

My wife and others entered. I warned them, “There’s a cheetah in here.” They didn’t seem to pay attention but I continued, “I think he wants me to feed him. I don’t know if it’s male, to be honest, but I think he’s trying to pull me toward his food.”

That’s what the cheetah did seem to be doing. I talked to it like it was my housepet, explaining that I’d feed him in a second, but I needed to put things down and food his food first. Whenever I’d go toward where I thought the food was, the cheetah would get happy and chirp small, high-pitched mews at me. But if I turned away from its food, it’d would swat at me. Never with true menace, but still, it’s a cheetah.

Sometimes I would swear. Then a second sister, who’d joined without being noticed, would remind me of little ones being present, and I’d apologize. My niece’s husband also joined us, making my place very crowded. All through this, the cheetah paid no attention to anyone except me. Meanwhile, I kept asking the cheetah, “How did you get in here?” The dream ended as I reached for food to give the cheetah.

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Wenzdaz Theme Music

The cool night air feels like autumn. But a summer sun gets up and flexes. Blue skies clear of cloud debris help. It’s about 60 F now but we’ll cruise into the low to mid 80s F today.

It’s not just the temperature that informs on the warring seasons. Trees are shifting their leaves. The sun’s approach comes through the southeastern windows in the dining room, then leans back toward the east as the sun clears mountains and trees. Yes, it’s Wenzda, September 17, 2025, and autumn is coming.

I spoke with Dad yesterday. He sounded much better. As he probably wouldn’t survive surgery, he’ll need to recover from his fall injuries through rest and time. He told me that they project that will take six to eight months. In the meantime, he can’t put any weight on his left foot due to the pain it causes.

Today’s music comes from pulling threads. First, I was pulling threads on a dream, asking what a cheetah in a dream means. Then I pulled threads on the plot and characters in a novel in progress. Out of all that came No Doubt’s 1995 song, “Just A Girl”. I see exactly why The Neurons pulled the song into the morning mental music stream after entangling with the Writer and Dream Neurons.

In political news, Trump is in Europe. Well, UK. Polls show he’s growing tres unpopular. That, along with his increasing instability, which we’ve repeatedly witness, will cause him to lash out more and pretend more, like he did when releasing another image of himself as a superhero, which is 180 degrees from who he is. TACO will abuse his office of power more, threaten his enemies and allies more, and tell us all how great and wonderful he is, that he’s our favorite president. Deep down, he knows he’s a piece of garbage but doesn’t care because, thanks to being POTUS, he’s growing richer and more powerful. Some think he worries excessively about the Epstein files being released. I speculate that he knows all the soft and hard data on the economy is pointing to an ugly truth, that he was wrong, and he’s going to be proven wrong, and as that happens, even his most staunch supporters will quietly abandon him.

Coffee is dashing through my bod, delivering its caffeine goodness. Hope you make acquiantance with peace and grace today and it turns into a long relationship. Here we go, into the great wide open. Cheers

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Mundaz Theme Music

Munda, September 15, 2025, has settled in against a backdrop of clear blue skies and warm sunshine. Summer is hanging on, taking us from overnight lows in the lower fifties to an 85 F high. All things end, though, and summer’s last days are coming on in the northern hemes.

I spoke to Dad this morning. He’s still in the rehab center. His voice was not strong. This latest ordeal really seemed to suck his life energy out of him. But…it might also be that he had just gotten out of a very hot shower and said he was sleepy. On a more positive side, my wife seems over her illness. She ate yesterday, picked up a book and read, and went to exercise class this morning.

Had a storm of dreams again last night. Went from being in the military trying to get a haircut to being in charge of a process with IBM and ISS, the Internet security companies where I worked, to recover and shut down security equipment. The latter was a messy, disorganized affair, and no one had done anything, so I was taking it on. Out of the blue toward the end, three young women, teenagers, really, appeared to help me with the computers. They weren’t much assistance at first, as they lacked knowledge but they were eager and energetic. With their help, I began wrangling the mess into something bearing some coherency.

Back to some rock ‘n roll for Munda. I was singing “Honky Tonk Kitty” to Papi this morning after he chirped appreciation for the food being delivered to him. Naturally, my song inspired The Neurons to fire up memory of the Rolling Stones tune in the morning mental music stream, as it’s quite similar to what I was singing.

Today’s project is about getting tree branches cut back from the neighboring apartment complex. I’d do it but realized that some of the branches are higher than my reach, even if I’m standing on a pile of books on top of a ladder where they tell you not to stand because it’s unsafe. I’ve reached out to the apartment complex to start a dialogue about my needs and intentions. They were out of office, so I left a message. Next steps would be to talk with them and then get estimates and get ‘er done.

Hope peace and grace find and lift you up today and every day. Coffee is doing some heavy lifting in me today. Time to bounce on into the day. Cheers

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