Tag: Dreams

The Custard Tart Dream

To set the dream scene, I was different in some ways to my real life self. Still white, I was tall and skinny with short black hair, and wearing a holey white tee shirt dingy gray with age. About nineteen years old, I was clean-shaven and despite my dirty clothes, I was clean. I knew I was poor but I was a happy and hopeful individual.

Walking among some dark industrial ruins, I came across a table. On it were about a dozen tarts. Six inches in diameter, they were custard, with cinnamon sprinkled across the top, and stacked about ten tall. Beside the tarts were a dozen empty tart pans in a stack.

Finding the tarts pleased me. I’d been walking for days, hadn’t eaten and was hungry, but more importantly to me, I’d been travelling alone and had not seen anybody the entire time. Finding the tarts, if they were fresh, was a sign that others still existed and could be close by.

I didn’t eat them, though, though I grinned widely as I looked at them. I didn’t know who owned them and refused to take them, thinking that would be stealing. Then, walking around, I found a cardboard sign with handwritten letters in red marker, “Free”.

I still didn’t take any. At that point, other people emerged from the shadows. Seeing them, I knew they were as hungry as me, so I called to them and started passing out the tarts. As I did, I found that there were more tarts than I thought. While I was surprised, I was also pleased because that meant that everyone could eat more.

Then, a voice told me that they’d been watching. They were going to provide me tarts, and I could sell them. That confused and surprised me. I queried them about why they’d want to do that. They answered that they thought I’d be good at selling them.

I shrugged. If they wanted to do that, it was okay, I guess, I said, but I’d rather just give them away because so many people didn’t have money or food. The voice replied, you can do what you want, they’re your tarts.

Dream end.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: ambivalent

Just the facts, folks: 47 F and sunny. This is Sunday, October 29, 2023 in Ashlandia, where the marijuana is local and above average. We’ll be in low sixties as our high point today but all that sunshine and blue sky makes it bracing and invigorating. Across the street, the huge, very old maple remains festooned with golden brown leaves. Soaked in sunlight, standing tall against blue sky, the tree seems majestic and steadying.

Stepping out with the cats, though, a determined northern wind delivers the taste and smell of winter. Papi, the ginger blade, still launches himself into the outdoors, foraging for summer for a bit before returning to the house’s protection and surrendering to the change. Tucker, the older black and white fellow, has probably felt the change in his bones and tucks for more sleep on the bed.

Once again, so many, many dreams. They leave me thinking and sometimes typing to understand what I’m thinking. Altogether, they were convulsive, erratic pastiche of experiences with a huge cast of people. What a trip they were.

After the latest US mass shooting — Lewiston, Maine, a forty-year-old shooter, 18 dead, dozens injured — I’d been thinking about the world’s state. Wars, greed, selfishness, and the rise of white supremacy, antisemitism, racism, sexism complicates our fragile existence on this rock. A small but growing number of people seem to think that the answers to our complex problems are in the past. Some claim that it’s all about God and religious and cites things like Christianity and religion as the answer, even as their behavior toward their fellow humans often stands starkly opposite of Christianity’s tenets against greed and for helping your fellow human.

Between the dreams and the the world’s state, The Neurons ended up plating up “Helter Skelter” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark comical). The Beatles wrote and released the song in 1968. One of their hardest rockers, the song became associated with Charles Manson and the murders committed in his name in 1969 in Los Angeles, CA. With that, the song has become embedded with ideas of chaos and destruction.

That’s true with me. I originally thought of it as a druggy come on about sex, based on the words about going up and coming down, then doing it again. The drug part arrives on the song’s feelig of changing moods and disorder.

And there we are: disorder. That’s how I see us now. Polarized and disordered, confused as a civilization about where we’re going and even where we want to go.

Ah, sorry for the pessimistic vibes. Maybe coffee will save me. Be strong and positive, and keep leaning forward. Here’s the music, a recording of a live version of Paul, without the rest of the Beatles. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: jouncy

We’re mid week, but almost the end of the month. Prepare for October; it’s coming.

We’re also entering 2023’s final calendar quarter. 2024 sees us coming and is rushing out to greet us and lick our faces. From what I read on the net, many people are dreading 2024, because of the state of politics in the US and the elections which 2024 brings us. I tend toward the optimistic side of life, so I think the justice system will triumph. I think if I fervently repeat that enough, I’ll believe it can happen. Sorry for the early cynicism.

So many in the US are misinformed as voters and citizens. Slander campaigns are on the rise from the right. They love throwing out fake narratives. They know that people remember the first thing they learn about something, and displacing that information is hard for political campaigns. Increasing the difficulty of correcting false informatin is the right wing destruction machine. It blasts out falsehoods on high volume, looping it day and night, things like the 2020 election was stolen from Trump.

Repeating this information is enough to keep people fooled. For a historic perspective, look how Dubya’s team approached Gulf War II. Their marketing changed the number of people fearing Iraq, and convince many that dire military intervention was the only way to save the world. Twenty years later, we know how that turned out.

But before 2024 arrives, we must endure the 2023 budget show. The GOP reprises this tactic just about every other year. Twenty-eight times, they’ve shut the gov’mint down in protest or to force their way on us. Coercion and fear, hypocrisy and lies, innuendo and smears; that’s our modern GOP. Lincoln weeps for what has become of the party he created.

On to lighter topics, like the weather. It’s a chilly fall AM. Brisk is the mind-friendly term. Rain has been falling intermittently in the last several days. I love the smells and sounds and its positive impact. Like many things, though, too much rain can cause as many problems as too little. Always surfing the balance, aren’t we?

Cloudy skies rule us. We expect high sixties today. It’s currently 53 F in Ashlandia, where the trees are abandoning green in favor of bright reds, yellows, oranges, and so on. Yes, the colors are flaring up all around, a beautiful sight. Wisps of burning odors from wildfires still strike me from time to time, forcing me to the net to prarie dog it and see if another fire started.

Not all is perfect in our realm, though, even with the fires dying under the rain’s. Treatment for algae blooms in our water system has festooned the water with a sharp chlorine smell and an earthy flavoring. Well, it’s drinkable, and it’s running, and it’s not killing us, so it’s a good thing. Such an optimist, I am.

Dreams again inspired The Neurons with the morning mental music stream (Trademark ludicrous). Thanks to a dream involving driving cars, I’m hearing the pop ditty, “Going Mobile” by The Who in my head. It’s off one of my favorite albums, Who’s Next. Although Daltry isn’t on this song at all, it features classic Who touches, Townsend’s guitar work and heavy, busy drumming.

Stay pos, and be strong, and power forward. My coffee fuel has been administered. I’m ready to take on things like shaving. Have a good one. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Two Dream Moments

I had two dreams last night which are remembered. Both were extremely brief.

In the first, I saw a large headline blaring on a screen, “FORMER PRESIDENT TRUMP IS DEAD!” Don’t know what media source it was supposed to be, but utter shock went through me when I saw it. Below the headline was a black and white photograph of DJT. Then I recognized that the screen was angled in green grass like a tilted tombstone. That was all.

Awakening, I thought about it for some time. When I mentioned it to a friend later, he said that someone had hacked Trump’s son’s X account and posted something about Trump being dead. I wondered if I’d heard or seen the story in passing without realizing, and it manifested as part of the dream. Of course, Trump being dead would launch conspiracy ideas and rip through the GOP’s structure like a Force 5 tornado. Guesses about the end results went all over the place when I spoke about it with friends, including prophecies of violence, and the impact on financial markets; would the US be viewed as safer and more stable with him deceased? It’s easy to speculate that it could go either way.

Of course, as it’s a dream, it could also just be wishful thinking in my head about how much the man bothers me with what he says. For example, I rose this morning and read the news that he’s urging his party to defund the parts of the legal systems which are taking him to trial, claiming that these are political persecutions. As others pointed out, such a spending proposal by the House would might difficulties finding their way into law past the Senate where Dems rule, or past President Biden’s desk. So his proposal is pretty empty but it stirs up the fires of his base, doesn’t it?

Second dream, similarly brief, had me walking outside through short, dark green grass. Shiny things in the grass hooked my attention. Drifting toward the first, I found a half buried silver dollar. I easily pulled it free from the earth. As I reckoned what it was, I saw several more. Collecting them, I realized it was hill full of half-buried silver dollars. As I collected them in delight, I wondered what I should do with them — keep them or turn them in somewhere — and how they got there. No one else was in sight, nor were buildings, cars, or paths. I concluded, they must have somehow fallen from the sky.

I was really excited, though, taking them for signs of impending good fortune. That lifted my energy and reinvigorated determination to do things. I guess I need to make it so, number one.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: upbeat

Swaddled in surreal dreams, tucked into bed, left alone by the cats, I slept late and solid. Now I’m back, baby, ready for Friday, September 8, 2023. After clouds gathered like buffalo at a watering hole yesterday afternoon, we passed through the night without wetness falling from the sky, thunder, and lightning. Today brought us impressive sky clarity and blueness. It chilled overnight. Back into the late sixties now, we’re heading into the mid 80s realm.

Reading Peter Navarro was convicted pushed my belief in the US justice system fractionally higher. Hurricane Lee still has me watching anxiously to see what’ll happen. You’re talking Cat 5, sustained winds over 159 MPH, strong enough to easily flatten frame houses.

Interesting article over on NYT about data being delivered by the James Webb Space Telescope and its impact on our knowledge and theories about the Universe’s origins. Confounding and unexpected discoveries have cosmologies saying “Wait, what?” I’m pleased because one theory being considered is whether physics itself is evolving and changing. That’s one of several personal ideas in my quiver, along with the idea that we have many ‘variations’ of time which we haven’t even begun to approach, and that these things are not uniform nor consistent, giving us a much richer tapestry of existence. Fun to ponder with coffee, beer, or wine.

We have a repeat of a song posted in 2017. The Neurons have dug out “Long, Long Way from Home” by Foreigner (1977) and plopped it right into the morning mental music stream (Trademark confounding). I don’t know what aspects of my dreams, thinking, or activities inspired Les Neuros to pop this one out. Trying to figure them out is like understanding quantum mechanics, and I ain’t nowhere near even explaining QM to others. By the way, remember when QM meant a Quinn Martin production? Yes, that’s The Neuries talking.

Okay, a collective demand for coffee is swelling through my corporeal being. Time to move it, move it, move it. Stay strong, be pos, test neg, and carry on. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: moderate

I blinked, and it’s Sunday once again. Seems like it was Sunday just last week. Ever get tired of that routine? Maybe we should expand the names of the days of the week. The government could have a big auction. Proceeds would go to education, homelessness programs, Medicare, and Medicaid. So we could have Appleday, IBMday, Floday (sponsored by Progressive Insurance), Fordday, MCUday, Primeday, etc. It’d be odd at first, sure, but we would adjust. They would earn the rights for a quarter. That way, things could be seasonal, or used for movie promotions. Sunday could be Barbieday.

Today is August 13, 2023. 77 F and climbing. Gonna be a hot one. Like seven inches from the midday sun. 103 is expected.

The Neurons stirred “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears (1985) into the morning mental music stream (Trademark hot). The CD that song was on was Songs from the Big Chair and was part of my long-distance rotation while going on temporary duty assignments in ’85, when I was stationed in South Carolina. I’m not surprised Les Neurons plucked this song out of memory, as I was head over heels in dreams last night. Nothing particularly interesting. Mostly anxiety dream varieties. That’s what’s been dominating.

Smoke entered the valley last night so it was shut the windows, keep them closed, and stayed inside. Air Quality Index entered the Moderate zone. I smelled and felt it, though, eyes tearing up and drying up, nose developing a drip, throat growing sore. Amazingly quick period before that all happened. I suspect that it’s a COVID leftover from last year’s bout. Never used to be like this for me. Of course, it might be just aging.

While still mesmerized by Hawaii’s disaster, news in the state today is about the increase of cougar sightings. The article pointed out that the cougar population has grown to 6,000, and that the growth of security cameras in houses and increased trail cams has increased our awareness of them. We have almost daily stories of them here in Ashlandia, where the people are worried, and pets are kept in sight.

Time to kick off this Oppenheimerday. Stay pos and be strong. Remember to love yourself a little. Nothing freaky, okay? Coffee? Mine is black and hot, without sugar, thanks. French roast.

Here’s the music. Cheers

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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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