Tag: Dreams

Moo-day’s Theme Music

Mood: a bouncing flow of changing lights and colors.

He said, “It’s Monday.”

And all the cows sang, “Moo-day.”

Which left him speechless.

Yes, we’re on the Monday segment of the seven day perpetual merry-go-round. Never stops. Never pauses. Might slow or speed up. Actually, it might stop but we might all lose consciousness when that happens because having time stopped doesn’t fit with the mold of our existence.

Today is August 7, 2023. Politics are still on my mind. Can’t help it. I read political news and it swats me over the head again, again, again. I think, I want to know what others are thinking. I don’t understand their conclusions. But I try, and I fail. We are realities apart on some matters. Not going into more than that today.

Weather is same as it was yesterday — blue, 68 F, high of 86 F.

Had an uncomfortable night. Kicked in with a dream festival. It ended suddenly when the smoke detector started chirping about the need for a new battery at 3 AM. Said detector is located on a hiiiigh ceiling in the master BR. No ladder in my possession is tall enough. But I have a ladder that will reach a ledge (yes, the bedroom has a ledge on the high end), and then I can stand on the ledge and change it. Wasn’t doing that at 3 AM, though. Also, didn’t have any 9 volt batteries on hand. Used the last one in the multimeter for another project last week. So, off to the store I go today.

But first, it’s time to deliver for food and friends one more time. We’re due to leave for that in a few. My wife has returned from exercising and is sipping her fresh coffee. Love that smell. I’m two-thirds through my first cuppa.

Thinking about going to the store, I thought, I need to go today but maybe I’ll go again tomorrow. Just thoughts about what I needed to buy, wanted to buy, and the balancing of activities and priorities. From that blend of thinking, The Neurons introduced Stevie Nicks and “Edge of Seventeen” into the morning mental music stream (trademark locked down). Makes sense; there’s a line in the song which states, “I went today, maybe I will go again tomorrow.”

Stay pos and upright, motor on into the distance. Keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel. Let’s do this. Here’s the video. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s microexistence is Sunday, Aug 6, 2023. I’m in Ashlandia, where the deer eat everything and many people are annoyed. 70 F now, the bottom line for how high the temperature will go is 89. Sunset and sunrise are now contracting our daylight hours. We’re pushing through August. September lurks, waiting to hustle in autumn for us.

Another night of riotous dreaming was experienced. The most surprising one had me as a young gunman trapped in a suburban house with three others. We had automatic weapons and were in this situation because we’d shot and killed another young man, apparently in conjunction with a gang feud. Now, trapped, we decided we were going to break out blazing and make, a shoot and run to escape. Corporeal I was protesting my dream I’s thinking and behavior, cursing him for being a fool, urging him not to do it. But whatever I urged him not to do, he did it anyway, damn him. Real me couldn’t stop dream me. I twice forced a redo, but it went the same. It felt like the dream scene was my subterranean neurons cooking up a movie to show my battle between different sides of my self.

I awoke, thinking about that dream and others, and ended up ceiling staring in thought. Running with that cue, Der Neurons started streaming “Brian Wilson” by the Bare Naked Ladies (1992) in the morning mental music stream (trademark existential). At least I readily knew the connection this time. One line goes, “So I’m lying here, staring at the ceiling.” Okay, well done, Neurons. Take a mental bow.

Tomorrow is the anniversary of when my wife and I married. Totally other existence when we did, when we were young in 1975. Been a bumpy road. Almost went over a few cliffs. I enjoy her company and have great admiration for who she is. I think she likes me, too, although I exasperate her. Well, she does exasperate me as well. Love is a spectrum, as is hate — hell, marriage and all the emotions are spectrums. We constantly slide back and forth, finding and losing balance, opening and closing the distance between us.

Stay pos, be strong, find the course and follow it, correcting as is needed. Coffee has already slipped past the guards and is supplying The Neurons with needed energy reinforcements. Let’s hear some music.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Salutations, and welcome to Saturday in Ashlandia, where the growers’ market is open and the coffee is brewing. It’s the 5 of August, 2023. We’re feasting on the cool mountain air and the remnants of the night’s chill offerings. Just 70 F at the moment, today’s high will gallop up to the low nineties. Air quality has been an off and on issue as the wind and fronts deliver wildfire smoke to the valley. It’s clear now, the and skies are not cloudy.

I asked Bing’s AI app yesterday, “Where is the smoke in Ashland, Oregon, coming from?” The AI’s answer really impressed me. It said, “It can be coming from anywhere.” It then went into a history of fires and smoke from previous years. I’m really worried about AI taking over. It’s gonna drive us all crazy with non-sensical answers and then slide into control after we’re all babbling idiots. Some of us are already pretty close to that edge.

Stampeded by dreams last night. The most vivid and everlasting was one in which I realized there was a serial killer. Nobody else was aware. That annoyed me, so I tracked down the serial killer and stopped him. Not sure how that last was done. Seemed to be off the dream stage. But I came back and told everyone else about the serial killer and stopping him without specifying why. I finished by informing them, “Now we can move on and get things done.”

Out of that, The Neurons inserted “Bette Davis Eyes” (1981) by Kim Carnes into the morning mental music stream (trademark insanity). It was a big song that year. In May of ’81 we moved from San Antonio, Texas to Okinawa, Japan, as part of my military service, and that song was being played everywhere. As the song looped through my head today, bringing back memories of those days, and I fed the cats, dressed, and made brekkie and coffee, I demanded of Les Neurons, “Why that song?” They smugly replied, “You know why.” I think they’re in cahoots with the AI to drive me nuts.

Stay positive, be strong, and persist. The coffee has already been sampled and I can assure you, it’s the real deal. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Space Traveling Dream Again

2:58 AM.

I awoke. Alarm seizes me. I don’t think I’ve set the rechargers for the house.

Was I supposed to set the rechargers for the house?

Does the house — can the house be recharged?

But it has to be recharged. Its engines need to be recharged.

Does the have engines? No, it doesn’t have engines.

Then how does it move?

These were my thoughts as I sat up in bed, suddenly awoke, coping again, with the dream about the house flying through space. I’ve dreamed this seven times recently, posting about it a few times. In it, my house and plot of land have been lifted from the Earth. My wife and cats are with me, and I’m actually impressed and pleased that we’re flying through space. Aliens have done this, I know, but I don’t know why.

After awakening from the dream, I visit the bathroom and check on the cats. Papi, the ginger blade, is drinking from the water bowl on the front porch. Tucker, the black and white enigma, was on the back porch drinking water from that bowl. Interesting symmetry. I returned to bed, and to sleep. Other dreams were experienced but whenever I awoke, I thought immediately of the house flying through space, and whether I’d recharged the engines.

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A Dream of Friends

It was a short one. I was young again. Looked like I was in my twenties.

Hustling along through a building, I passed through a doorway and down a short fight of steps. In there were many friends and co-workers. (I realized on awakening that all were male.)

I don’t know how many were there. None of these people have been seen in the last dozen years, and most haven’t been seen or spoken with since the last century.

We were all wearing tee shirts, the sort worn to support sports teams and rock bands. All were young like me. Several of us took seats in a semi-circle around a fire pit which had no fire. Others took seats behind us. We were talking, joking, laughing, playing tricks on one another and just acting silly. I recognized at least Jeff, Gil, Ray, Jim. An ex-brother-in-law was seated beside me on my right. Gil was two seats over on my left.

A man began playing guitar and singing. Dressed in black trimmed with silver, he was seated in a chair off to one side, an amplifier beside him. Despite the amp, he played and sang low. We all needed to stay silent to hear him. The song was his own composition, I was told by another. I don’t remember any of the lyrics or melodies. I remember thinking that he could be a professional. Gil said, “It’s like we’re at a concert.” Ian answered, “We are at a concert.” That exchange brought out some chuckling.

The concert ended. We all stood, socializing. Jeff, who I saw earlier, came in. He was wearing a different tee shirt. It had Roberto Clemente’s likeness and number on it. Clemente had been my childhood hero. Grinning, I went to Jeff and said, “Hello, Roberto.”

Jeff was much smaller than I remembered him being. He was taller than me in RL. Although he looked as he did back when we worked together, he was now a foot shorter. “Hello,” he answered, grinning.

Dream end.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: low-energy. Don’t know if that qualifies as ‘mood’. Feels like my batteries are blinking with a ‘recharge now’ message. Or maybe I just have the Wednesdays.

Yes, Wednesday, July 26, 2023, pulled into Ashlandia, where the skies are not cloudy today. Low was in the upper fifties this morning and the high will pull the numbers into the lower nineties. While the fires continue burning north, east, and south, and advisories warning us about our air quality is out, the sky is blue and the air is smoke free. If we can play keep away with the smoke, a lovely summer day will reward us.

After another dream invasion, I awoke thinking about dreams, my mind, and memories. Last night’s thinking about doors in my mind and event boundaries just before going to sleep probably contributed to that. The Neurons ended up plugging a 1967 song by The Amboy Dukes called “Journey to the Center of the Mind” into the morning mental music stream (trademark imagined). This song has a bit of prog to it — reminds me of several Moody Blues works — with a psychedelic edge. The lead guitarist knew his stuff. It’s a guy named Ted Nugent. I don’t usually share his work because I consider him repugnant. On a scale of one to ten, he goes to eleven. It’s about his interest in sex with thirteen year old girls and his comments about not every man being created equal. It’s not a question of his politics; he’s just hateful.

But we’re going with this music to satisfy Les Neurons (who just fired up “Satisfaction” by the Stones in the morning mental music stream). You be strong, safe, positive. Work it as best as you can, right?

Okay, my coffee is singing to me. Here’s the tune. Cheers

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Car Dream

I usually dream of sports cars, especially Porsches. Last night, I dreamed I was standing on the side of a divided highway. Seemed like an Interstate. I never saw myself so I don’t know what dream version of me was being offered up.

I was waiting for a car, though. A white Chrysler was coming. I wasn’t familiar with this Chrysler — I’ve never owned one and I would’ve been five when this car was on the road though I’d naturally know them as used cars — but I knew the one coming, a sparkling white convertible from the early 1960s, with a large chrome grill and front reflecting the landscape as it came on, was the car I awaited.

That’s all the dream was, except when I saw it coming, I thought, at last. Looking it up today, here was the car of my dream.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: mellow

I love the mornings, when calm rules, before I get into the news, before the weather shifts. Life outside the windows is firing up on the human side. Machinery is doing its thing somewhere. Loud-voiced neighbors preparing for a trip talk things over, greet passers-by, that sort of thing. A cool breeze teases me into thinking better things are coming.

This is Monday, July 17, 2023. Gonna be in the low 90s again today, although it’s in the 60s F right now. A layer of thin clouds ruled in yesterday and cut our temperature and stirred a breeze. We barely touched 80 F and those breezes were wonderful gifts. Hope others under the heat dome get some breaks, along with those dealing with flooding in India, Japan, and parts of the US.

We were talking about “Sing Along with Mitch”. That would be Mitch Miller. Started as part of a Trivial Pursuit question. Cards were at the table when we were having brunch. My wife and I enjoy asking and answering those question.

One question was, what was the name of Mitch Miller’s backup singers? Neither of us knew. We vividly remembered the show. I looked it up later; it was on in the early 1960s. So, I’m thinking, how do I remember that show so vividly?

The Neurons posted three songs in the morning mental music stream (trademark — what’s that?) competing for Monday’s theme music. First was Tom Petty with “Runnin’ Down A Dream”. Know what that was about? Yeah, trying to remember a dream I’d had. Came after a bit of noodling. Second song was “Whip It” by Devo. Cause I’d gotten up and was organizing things to do in my head. Third offering, “That Smell” by Lynerd Skynerd, which came up when I brewed my morning java. I went with “Running’ Down A Dream” because I liked the energy it brought.

I sooo remember that song coming out in 1989. Stationed in Germany. We were a small flying unit, pretty relaxed and friendly with one another. Rockers dominated. Several officers swept by my office to ask me if I’d heard the new Petty song. Indeed, I had. Soon as, I popped over to the Main Exchange and procured my own CD. They — and their spouses — were a good group of folks.

Time to press on. Stay pos, stay strong, and work the day like it’s made of clay. I’m havin’ my coffee. Love how the hot brew slips into my mouth, chatting up the taste buds as it does its flow, exchanging excited greetings with The Neurons, then washing down, warming my gullet. Good times. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Winceday’s Theme Music

We got you Wednesday here. *wince*. July 5, 2023. Back to work, ye scurvy dogs. 2023 is more than half gone. On the bright side, you have less than half left. *wince* Time is running up on you. You, me, and the rest.

Gonna be 97 F today. *wince*. Good thing it’s Wednesday. Meeting with friends to indulge in some cold beer. We’ve divided between the light and the dark sides. The light side will be partaking of an IPA while the dark side is going for ale, because it’s summer, and some of them don’t like their beer too dark in the summer.

Ah, such strange dreams this morning in the dark hours. *wince*. Don’t know what they meant, if anything. We had root beer floats with friends on their deck last night, another of our traditions. We usually watch fireworks with them. I’d rather not have the fireworks. Animals and environment don’t need that kind.

Fireworks were illegal this year in Ashlandia, where the bus doesn’t go all the way uptown and the children are chauffeured. Too dry and hot. Still beset by drought. Yet, there will be some who will set off their fireworks cause, ‘Merica. Freedom. Tucker didn’t mind them. Papi, though, hid out for hours. He’s okay this morning but he wasn’t a happy floofy last night.

Today’s music is “Stranger Blues” with Steve Miller and Peter Frampton. Just cause I like the sound, and not because of something said last night, causing The Neurons to start playing it, where it still plays in the morning mental music stream.

Stay pos, be chill, and don’t let the boogerheads get you down. Coffee is served, sir. Here’s the music. Enjoy, please.

Cheers

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The Space Dream

I dreamed I was traveling through space. My house and its lot had been lifted away from the Earth, and there we went, soundlessly zooming through space. After thinking in the dream, is that what’s happening, I was given a distant perspective that confirmed, yep, there I go, with the house, wife, cats, and yard.

I pointed it all to my wife, calling to her as she did something in another room. All I had no idea what our destination was and had questions — was I onboard a larger ship, and who launched us like this — I enjoyed being out there. I was exactly as I now am, as was my house and yard. I saw this from a temporary external position, as though I needed to see it, before returning into my body. Settling behind my desk in my home office, I resumed my typing.

I awoke abruptly. In panic, I thought, where are the cats? Where are Tucker and Papi? Did I put them out? OMG, did I put them out in space? But if I put them out into the yard, wouldn’t they be safe, because it’s — it’s — wait.

Confusion mounting and taking over, I stumbled away from bed, thinking, where am I now? What should I do? If I open the door, would it — what would happen? But —

I’d been in space. But wasn’t that a dream? Or was I now dreaming? Neurons regrouping, we agreed with a laugh, being in space was the dream. Reality was that I was home, securely part of the Earth. But I went out and found the cats, ensuring they were really okay, just in case, you know, and then gazed up at the stars and moon for a few seconds with recollection of the dream.

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