My dreams of late are circling a depressing track of not being seen, not being heard, confused identity, missed opportunities… I suspect it’s a lack of proper external stimulation, beyond vicariously encountered through the net and television. Although I often live like a hermit — it’s a function of who I am — I do enjoy and need some social stimulation. I’m otherwise trapped in my own woods, and the trees close in.
The first song slipping into my conscious stream today was “I Wanna Be Around”. This sixties pop music staple inundated television and radio throughout my early youth. Versions by Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Dinah Shore, Aretha Franklin, and others drifted through. Most of my fixation was on the lines, “I wanna be around to see how he does it, when he breaks your heart to bits. Let’s see if the puzzle fits so fine.”
After playing that loop out, M
Mr. Mister’s “Broken Wings” (1985) entered the stream. I thought it a better theme song for today.
Take these broken wings
And learn to fly again, learn to live so free
When we hear the voices sing
The book of love will open up and let us in
h/t to Genius.com
Yes, it’s a repeat — I may have done it twice before — but it suits my rutty mood. Hope your days and world is going better. Please wear a mask. Survive. Endure. Thrive.
A night of intense but entertaining dreams had finished. The day was beginning with the emptying of the bladder and the feeding of the cats. They’d surrounded me and, despite bowls of kibble, were claiming starvation.
The activities engaged are the automatic sort, not much thinking required, leaving me free to ponder the dreams. That led to a Queensryche line from “Silent Lucidity” (1991):
“Your dream is over… or has it just begun?”
I mean, my dreams had been unfathomably lucid, where I as myself in my dream was interviewing the me having the dream, about a dream which was still taking place. So, I ponder, were there three dream version of me happening simultaneously, which led now to the conscious ‘real’ me pondering those three dream people? Or was this another dream?
Here’s the music.
Raucous dreams consumed the night. Oh, yes, there was too a floof fight.
4:30 AM. In this corner, wearing long black and white fur and weighing in at sixteen pounds…Tucker.
In the other corner, by the kibble bowl, that eleven pound ginger blade who used to be called Meep!…Papi.
I know Tucker started it because it’s always Tucker. Little combat was involved because Papi is a shrieker. His first one bought us awake and out of bed in one leap, and it was done. I swear that we moved like ninjas…little aging, graying ninjas…
But it’s email that gives me today’s theme music. Money…financing…sales ending today…the calls for assistance and donations and contributions dominated the box in a depressing blitz. Pelosi claimed her email wasn’t about money but Biden openly asked. Amazon and Costco crowed, look at what everyone is buying. Animal shelters and rescue groups wanted cash. The USPS needs help…
Such an AM gut punch even before my brekkie and coffee. Making them was when the theme song came: “Money (That’s What I Want)“.
The Beatles had a big hit with it, but I was channeling The Flying Lizards’ 1979 cover with Deborah Evans-Stickland. The Beatles were nakedly raw and emotional in their money demands. The Flying Lizards brought a mocking, flat monotone to their appeal.
My email solicitations were across the gamut: fear — they’re winning, they’re winning, give me money to fight back — to logic — no, it was all fear, fear of what will happen if you don’t give or buy, because you will be losing.
Anyway, that’s my music choice for today. Please listen and send me money. And stay healthy. Wear a damn mask.
Had entertaining dreams last night that energized and inspired me. As I shaved and thought about them this AM, I thought, “That’s the way I like it.”
That thought inspired my brain to start singing “That’s the Way (I Like It)” by KC & The Sunshine Band. Released in 1975, the song was major background music to my young adulthood. My wife graduated from high school that year, and we married. I was in the military and experienced my first permanent duty assignment at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base (WPAFB) where I worked in the AF Logistics Command in the Command Post. The next year, I was reassigned to the 3rd Tactical Fighter Wing, Clark Air Base, in the Philippines.
This song was played everywhere in those years, and was a song that drew everyone to the dance floor. Good times.
I’m having fun with my writing these days. I usually have fun but some days become more challenging and wearying.
Not so now. Still typing with one hand so I hunt and peck across the keyboard and through the story. Six hundred words a day is usually the sum of two hours of effort. My biggest typing issue is that my finger often finds the ‘y’ when I’m seeking the ‘t’.
The characters’ voices are strong and clear. I’m infatuated with the concept. Variations on it delight me as they spool out. Abetted by slow typing, I’m taking my time developing the story and building the plot.
It’s clear to me that I’m riding toward the peak of my up and down cycles. Dreams have been empowering, inspiring, energizing, and enabling, exhorting me to be positive and to not despair. It’s a pleasure when your subconscious becomes a supporter instead of a saboteur.
Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
- Don’t recall any dreams from last night. Odd. Frees up about an hour of time spent thinking about my dreams. Has my dream reservoir gone dry?
- Went out on a shopping expedition yesterday, Albertsons and Bi-Mart. Our prey was cat food and fresh fruits and veggies. All saved one was masked up, although several wore their masks with their noses exposed. Do you not get it, man? Yes, I know, there’s psychology, perceptions, fears, and lies at work there. Just ask Herman Caine. Sorry, cheap shot. Ask Rep. Gohmert (Crazy-TX) instead. He’s the latest flag-bearer for the nonsense brigade.
- Florida friends tell us that people there don’t act like there’s a pandemic going on except to put on masks to enter stores, because the stores require them. Then I read an article about a study that said, yes, as expected, young adults and teens are working and clubbing, then going home and infecting more vulnerable people. It’s trending up everywhere.
- Going to have social-distancing brunch outside at friends’ house this AM. Just the two couples will be present. I’m ambivalent about it. Like them, but do we need the risk? I am resentful, too, as my wife (with perceived mocking tone) said to friend on phone, “Oh, he’s not doing anything.” Hello? Writing? WTF. She then said, “Oh, don’t tell me I’m interfering with your schedule.” I’m sounding bitter, so I’ll stop.
- Okay, I am bitter.
- Our fire warnings were raised to extreme today. Humidity has dropped to 15% and we’ve had several days of triple digit highs. We’re in a mild trough today, with an overnight low of 58 and a forecast high of 94 for today. Worrisome as dozens of wildfires are already burning.
- Stay safe, everyone. Wear masks and distance.
- Gonna get some coffee now and try to write like crazy, at least one more time.
“Thunder only happens when it’s raining.”
It wasn’t raining (at least around our house) but the thunder was relentless. Half the cats did a frenzied thunder-run to hide. The other two yawned.
I listened to the thunder, waited for the lightning, and remembered songs about thunder, lightning, and rain. The mental stream finally selected the Fleetwood Mac song, “Dreams” (1977). Ostensibly a reflective song about ending relationships, the line about the thunder always resonates with me.
It’s a very mellow song.
A heavy night of dreaming was endured last night. I’ve noticed my dreams have a cycle that parallels my other cycles. Observing it fascinates me. Within that cycle, then, I wonder if my military theme also works in a cycle within a cycle. I’m beginning to believe it does. Now I’ll watch for evidence while doubting that I, the observer, can objectively and dispassionately observe what’s happening to myself. It’s that kind of morning.
In the military exercise dream last night, I was part of the command staff. We were preparing for an exercise to test readiness. I was command and control IRL, and typically was the Battle Staff Exec (which I liked to state as the B.S. Exec), coordinating the Battle Staff response. But in the dream, I was given a folder. The commander said, “You’re in charge of communications.”
NBD, but I was surprised. The B.S. began walking through scenarios. Security went through a succession of possibilities about terrorist actions. I thought some possibilities were being overlooked and spoke up. Yeah, that was agreed.
Then it was my turn. As I began talking, the decision was made to move. We’d been in the commander’s conference room; now we moved to the actual battle staff. I took my place at the podium and tried to employ order so I could resume my briefing but small interruptions kept taking place. I kept beginning, “Communications will be an important part,” and then an interruption would ensue, humorously ironic, right?
Which summarizes the dream and my current issue. Writing at home instead of at a coffee shop has been been fraught with interruptions. That’s why (and how) I’d developed my writing process, to separate me from my home and its interruptions. So this dream seems like a manifestation of my daily writing problems while sheltering in place during the COVID-19 pandemic.
It was late November in 2015, just a few days after Thanksgiving. Prompted by a dream, he sat and write. It seemed so outlandish and shocking, he shared it with nobody.
His dream said that Donald Trump would be the President of the United States. At that point, many were laughing at him and his crude, ridiculous bombastic declarations as he demanded President Obama’s birth certificate, and lied. It seemed impossible that he would be POTUS, but the dream whisperer said, “It’s gonna happen.”
In 2020, an epidemic would sweep the world, the dream whisperer said, forcing people to wear masks and stay inside their homes; businesses would shut down. “It’s gonna happen,” the dream whisperer insisted, continuing, that some, driven by the President Trump’s false promises, scoffing remarks, and refusal to heed the advice himself, would disbelieve and refuse to follow the science and medical advisors. The nation’s divisiveness would increase, shocking the citizens and the world.
The final nails would come from escalating violence, the dream whisperer said. As President Trump bullied, so his followers bullied. As he called for violence and to be tough and cruel, so his followers did as he said, acting under the umbrella of being Christians, while demonstrating nothing of traditional Christian principles.
So he saw in 2015, scenes in dreams that shock and dismayed him. Still, he’d written them down, mostly in amusement back then. Surely, it would never be that bad.
But one early June night in 2020, he had another dream. Driven awake, he pulled out the vision from 2015 and reviewed its contents. He’d not be able to believe it; it seemed so stunning and impossible, like a throwback to an earlier era of troubled times in the United States. Hadn’t they evolved past all of those things? Yes, he’d believed they had; that’s why the dream was so difficult to believe. Yet, here they were as a nation…
And now he had a new dream to write, one where he saw where they’d be in 2024. It seemed so different, so impossible because of where they were now —
But that’s exactly how he’d reacted in 2015.
And so, he began to write. History does repeat itself. Sometimes, some of it is good.
At least, that’s what the dream whisperer said.