A Water Dream with Deux Chats

This was a variation of a dream which I’ve had several times. It’s been several years, as best as I can recall. Basics include a water related disaster while I’m in a huge building. The building’s purpose is never fully clear, but it reminds me of modern office buildings.

Toward the dream’s end, I look out a window. The building is on a shoreline but raised above the beach. From my vantage, I can look down and across. I see deep blue water lapping at the upper level of rocky breakers. It’s clear that water broke over those breakers but has receded some. “Oh my god,” I said, “I didn’t realize the water got that high.”

The person I’m speaking with agrees, and tells me it was much higher. The building had been evacuated. Almost everyone was gone. I decide the time is right for me to get out. But I know where my car was parked. I know that area was flooded.

Then I think, wait, I had another car parked on another level. Do I have the key? Yes, I do. Good. Just need to reach it.

I go to use some stairs to go down. They’ve been severely damaged. Pipes and wires are exposed, blocking part of the way, and some of the wall has been knocked over. I attempt to go down one side but the way is blocked. Seeing another way, I precariously cross from one side to the other as others watch and anxiously call, “Careful.” But I make it without issue.

Going down, which in real life seems wrong but made perfect sense in dreamland, I reach my old car. It gets muddled here; the old car is sometimes an old green Mercury Comet sedan I drove as a teenager but it’s a silver Nissan 200 I once owned at other times. While I’m confused while remembering it, it seemed straightforward in my dream.

I start toward the car when three women interrupt me. All are dressed in the Air Force ‘office’ uniform that we used to wear, a light blue shirt with insignia, ribbons and awards, and name plate, along with black shoes and dark blue pants. Their uniforms are immaculate. One is a stranger, one is my sister, and the third is an actress. But they’re just friendly strangers in the dream. The one who is my sister says, “Can you answer a question for us? We’re trying to figure out if running the radio slows down a Formula 1 car.”

The actress says, “I think it would slow down a NASCAR racer but they’re still pretty fast. They can go three hundred miles an hour.”

Several responses bounce around my head. Like, Formula 1 cars don’t have radios in the way she’s talking about, which becomes clear as she explains that she thinks drivers probably enjoy listening to music. I tell them that race cars don’t have radios that play music and that it would slow them down anyway. They thank me and start talking to one another. I go on.

As I approach the car, two cats appear. They are Jade and Roary, two cats who once lived with us but at different times. They’re well, healthy, with their tails up. Neither make a noise but are waiting for me to get into the car. I open the door. They stand aside as I get in and start it without problem. Looking across the parking lot, I see another car I used to own, a blue Mazda RX-7, and think, wait until I tell my wife about that. Then I tell the cats, “Come on, get in.” They hop into the car, and I put it into gear. Dream end.

Not my RX-7 but one just like it, one of three I owned at different times.

Thinking about it, though, I was dismayed. I thought several negative aspects were being presented to me. But a voice in my head said, “Let’s talk about this dream.” Summarizing, the voice tells me, you have at least two more lives left, represented in the two cats. Also, you’re not as close to death as you sometimes think. Your old car represents you. Your car was unexpectedly remembered, found, and then started without problem. You’re being helped by female energy from three different but related sources. The water was high but it’s receding, and things will get better.

Wenzdaz Theme Music

Another rock and roll October fall day has pitched itself over Ashlandia. 39 F now, we’re expected to get over the 60 F hump and cruise to 67 F before falling back down to 40. The pattern is obvious by now, Wenzdaz, October 15, 2025. The nights are taking control, lengthening, growing colder. We know that means, winter is comin’.

No change in news from Dad’s locations. On Mom’s side, sis took Mom to see Frank. Wasn’t a good visit, as he was out of it. Mom told sis, she doesn’t think she can see him like that again. Frank is on 10 L/minute of O2 now but was on 15 as of yesterday morning. He can’t be moved from ICU until he is on 5.

After the visit, sis took Mom to get a flu shot and COVID booster, then went back that evening and made her dinner and visited with her. Another sister had a visit to Mom planned for Monday. No updates from that.

The Epstein Shutdown of 2025 continues. It’ been two weeks.

As part of the shutdown, the Trump regime employed reverse-day logic to RIF gov. employees. CNN published a story that finely chopped up the Trump-Vance-Johnson GOP tale that, “Gosh, the Democrats made us let go of people because the government is shut down.”

Vice President JD Vance said Sunday that layoffs during the government shutdown are needed to continue critical federal assistance programs, including the WIC nutrition assistance program, and to pay the military.

“We have to lay off some federal workers in the midst of this shutdown to preserve the essential benefits for the American people that the government does provide,” he said on NBC’s “Meet the Press,” blaming Democrats for the reductions.

However, budget experts pointed to several reasons why Vance’s statement wasn’t true. Among them, many federal workers aren’t being paid during the shutdown, so laying them off wouldn’t free up any funds — plus, if they were being paid, the money wouldn’t be available for 60 days, when most must actually leave their jobs, said Bobby Kogan, senior director of federal budget policy at the left-leaning Center for American Progress and a former OMB official during the Biden administration. Also, the Trump administration last week said it will extend WIC’s funding using tariff revenue.

What’s more, any funds saved by laying off several thousand federal employees would be only a tiny fraction of what’s needed to fund WIC and the military, said Michael Linden, a former senior OMB official during the Biden administration who is now a senior policy fellow at the left-leaning Washington Center for Equitable Growth.

Yes, that’s right, it’s another Trump Regime lie exposed. Should be news — well, it was, I guess, because it was covered by CNN — but the Trump Regime lies every day, almost every hour. Those of a MAGA heart pay no heed until Trump’s actions hit them hard enough on the head to shake their beliefs. The Trump WH is a swampland of lies and corruption. It’ll take some serious work to drain that swamp and rebuild it into a functioning democractic government and kick down the disastrous framework that is Project 2025. Meanwhile, farmers are going belly up from the lack of infrastructure to support them. Prices are rising. Employment is falling. Shortages are appearing, and foreclosures are climbing. The Trump Destruction Machine is tearing the nation down.

Riddle: how many Trump Regime officials does it take to tell the truth? No one can guess because it’s never happened.

Today’s song is “Skateaway” by Dire Straits. In my head, this is called “Rollergirl”. Yes, this was obliquely related to a dream sequence of moi. Had sufficient substance found in it that The Neurons made the call to feature it in the morning mental music stream.

Here’s a lyrics sampling that prompts my head to call the song “Rollergirl”.

She gets rock and roll and a rock and roll station
And a rock and roll dream
She’s making movies on location
She don’t know what it means
And the music make her wanna be the story
And the story was whatever was the song, what it was
Rollergirl, don’t worry
D.J. play the movies all night long, all nigh
t long

h/t to Genius.com

Coffee is being re-homed into my body as I type. Time to rock another day before it rocks me. Hope peace and grace comes out of the shadows to warm and shelter us all. Till then, here we go, one more time around the sun. Cheers

Satyrdaz Theme Music

Today is Satyrda, October 11, 2025. Thin sunshine is cutting through the windows around the blinds but it’s 45 F and wet out there. High is pinned at 52 F, but I’ll note that we didn’t get within three degrees of the projected high for yesterday. It remained brrr-y all day. That was then, and this is now, where clouds mix it up with blue sky. The precipitation and cold air brought early snow to Mt. Ashland, a few miles from here, a few thousand feet higher in elevation. We’re also down to

Absolutely beautiful snow covered image of Mt. Ashland from the lodge webcam. This is stunning to see this early in the season. h/t to Ryanweather.com

You know this made me lose my appetite this morning:

Venezuelan opposition leader dedicates Nobel Prize to Trump for ‘decisive support’

I don’t know what Trump has done for Venezuela to help with their democracy. Up here in the United States, we’re chaffing under his military heel as he tries to make the press and everyone else bend the knee to him as the first Dictator of the United States.

Meanwhile, I guess I have to trust the physician, and not my own lying eyes. From Huffpost:

President Donald Trump Is In ‘Exceptional Health,’ His Doctor Says, After Visit To Walter Reed

President Donald Trump is in “exceptional health,” his physician said Friday after he underwent a checkup that included lab tests and preventive health assessments at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.

Trump spent roughly three hours at the Bethesda, Maryland, hospital earlier Friday for what his doctor, Navy Capt. Sean Barbabella, called a “scheduled follow-up evaluation” that was a “part of his ongoing health maintenance plan.” While there, Trump also got his yearly flu shot, as well as a COVID-19 booster vaccine.

One, surprised that they mentioned Trump getting a COVID-19 booster vaccine. The Trump Regime regularly rails against it as a Democrat hoax.

Two, Trump doesn’t look healthy. He appears obese, doesn’t move well, and often speaks like he’s half alive. Basically, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, then it’s an overweight, unhealthy person, and the proclamation that he’s in exceptional health is political theater. Then again, Trump and his minions are caught in lies every day. That is their well-established history. I’m conditioned not to believe a damn word any of them say.

It was an incomplete exam of Trump, though.

Today’s theme music is another dream product. Dream I was with others, worrying about the weather. People began running. I didn’t know why. We were on like a level paved area the size of an airfield, but it was paved in white. Huge mountains surrounded two sides. As I tried figuring out why others were running, an enormous green wave crested the mountains. After a “Holy fuck,” reaction, I scrambled to find somewhere safe. But I didn’t think anywhere would be safe. All that took too long. The wave crashed down. Water engulfed me but it was warm and soothing. I was surprised I was alive, then thought I was holding my breath but then grasped that I was breathing underwater, another WTF moment. Awakening from the dream and thinking about it, the “Iris” line, “You breathe just to know you’re alive,” came to me. The Neurons took note and flooded the morning mental music stream with the Goo Goo Dolls song.

Coffee is rocking the body so I guess it’s time to rock on. Hope peace and grace finds and embraces us, if not this year, than the next. Till then, keep calm and protest on. Cheers

The Hair Dream

I was the new guy in a small group of males. Basically smartasses and lower class with leanings toward crime and goofing off, I don’t know how I met them but was hanging around with them. They kept discounting me and making fun of me. I decided changes were needed and thought the way to do that was with my hair. So off I went to get dreadlocks.

A stylist eagerly did as I asked. I emerged with long black dreadlocks when I’d had brown hair before, with the crown being literally a crown of short dreads.

I went back and joined the group at a short track where a car race was scheduled to take place. All were surprised and taken back. One or two made fun of me for it. Then we split up. Most headed in to watch the race but one other and I stayed back, sort of watching the group’s belongings in a small corner by a counter. Catching my image in a mirror, I was horrified. “I look terrible,” I said. “Ridiculous. What was I thinking?”

The other guy, a short, white almost bald fellow said, “Well, I admire what you did. Took balls. I respect that.”

“Really? But it looks like crap.”

“Yes, but you did something.”

I met a woman who wanted to go into the track but wasn’t certain how to go about it. I asked where she wanted to go in there. “By turn two,” she answered. “Come on,” I said, “I’ll take you there.”

I took her in through the crowd. As I did, a young black woman paused to tell me with a wide smile, “I really like your hair.”

“Thanks,” I answered, pleased, amused. Showing the woman to turn two, I moved back through the crowd to the outside. Another young black woman accosted me, saying, “Nice hair.”

I encountered a white female friend as I left the race track. “What did you do to your hair?” she asked.

“I know,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m going to see if it can be fixed.” But I was thinking, it’ll probably need to be cut. Then it’ll take a long time to grow back. While this went through my head, a young black woman said, “I’m sorry but I overheard what you said. I hope you don’t change your hair. I think it looks really good on you.”

Dream end.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑