Tag: Dreams

Sunday’s Theme Music

It’s Sunday, May 7, 2023, in Ashlandia. Sunrise and sunset are at least fourteen hours apart but rain veils keep sweeping over us, diminishing our enjoyment of the rain, to some degree. Rain provides us with convenient excuses for staying in and reading books, like we ever need an excuse. It’s 55 F now but the weather troops tell us that we might warm up into the mid-sixties today. Rain and cool weather will continue until Friday.

We remain on deathwatch for my Uncle Bill. Dad’s youngest sibling, Bill will be the first of the give siblings to pass. His two female siblings, Jean and Jan, made their way back to Pittsburgh, PA, where Bill lives to see him.

It’s an interesting scenario. Dad was 15 n 1947. Lying about his age, he enlisted in the national guard. Though questions were asked, he was permitted to serve. Tracing matters, I realized that Bill was two years old when Dad left home. He’d never spent significant time with his youngest. Oddly, it’s almost the same with me. I left Mom and my siblings when I was fifteen. The youngest sister had not yet entered school.

I’m ashamed about how little I know about Uncle Bill. I haven’t seen him in forty-five years. His sister told me he was a straight-A student in high school and college. I don’t doubt it. He’s always been personable, friendly, quick with a joke, ready to grin. I knew of his heart problems by the time I graduated high school. Bill never talked about it but I heard again and again that he’d be lucky to live to be middle-aged. Now, after open-heart surgery, a pace maker, and six heart attacks, he awaits death at 79 years old. I’ve seen him drink beer but I’ve never seen him drunk. He loved cars and I often admired cars as his vehicles were often a muscle car.

I don’t know what music he likes. He was never listening to it or talking about it in my presence. He loved baseball, especially the Pittsburgh Pirates. That’s what dominated the radio when he had control. One of my favorite childhood memories revolve around baseball, Dad, and Uncle Bill. The Pirates were in the world series, battling the Yankees. A gorgeous Sunday, we were at Grandma and Grandpa’s house, cleaning the windows and screens, and washing and waxing cars while listening to the game on a transistor radio. The Pirates won that day. Bill was ecstatic.

Dreams drive my music today. They were complicated and dizzying. As I emerged from journaling about them, The Neurons popped Madonna into the morning mental music stream. “Live to Tell” was written for a movie, At Close Range. Released in 1986, the movie starred her husband of the time, Sean Penn. The dream and song connections are detailed and complex. I’m not ready to delve into all that today.

Stay pos. It’s afternoon now — had to go down the road for groceries and things this morning — so I’ve had coffee, thanks, along with breakfast and lunch. Here’s the music. Let Sunday roll. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

No snow! Again. It’s like days in a row. The weather at last feels like an Ashlandia spring. We’ll pop up to 80 F today. Low in the bottom 40s. Sunrise quarter past six. Sunset after eight in the evening. This is what Daddy likes.

It’s April 26, 2023. Sad news that ispace lost contact with Hakuto-R. Latest theory they’ve put out is it unexpectedly accelerated and crashed on the moon while attempting its approach. Back to the drawing boards.

I’ve always been a proponent of exploring space and trying to reach other planets. Curiosity of what’s out there drives me. I know, many argue that we’re already screwing up Earth and have demonstrated ourselves to be poor caretakers of our home planet, so why should we ‘be allowed’ to go somewhere else. Also, space exploration is a little pricy. Cost more than my annual coffee budget. And we have so many problems in our society, unintended consequences of systems, practices, laws and technology. So much we have here we need to fix.

But I’m an optimist. I hope that going to space more will lift our spirits and encourage us to change. I know, I know but space travel and exploration opens possibilities, and fires hope and optimism. Of course my background is white male. American, sure of food and shelter. I know in an intellectual way that it’s way different for others in ways that I struggle to fully imagine and comprehend. I try. I try to empathize and sympathize and help. And I want for others to have at least the levels of comfort, security, access to equity, and opportunities that I’ve experienced.

Had a plethora of dreams again. Some involved Dad and painting. I’ll explore that more, I think.

Thoughts of space impelled Les Neurons to fire up “Rocket Man” by Elton John and Bernie Taupin 1972. Found a lovely video of John in concert with the song in 1972. Just fifty plus years ago, hey?

Stay pos and don’t let your fuse burn out. I’ve got some coffee if you need it. Maybe we can pass the cup.

Here’s the music. Enjoy. Cheers

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A Dream of Money & Fighting

Many of my recent dreams have been about self-doubt, communication problems, and confusion. Last night’s dream added a different twist. A sort of duality emerged right at the beginning.

I was a civilian but arrived at a military complex. Walking in, I assumed my military persona as an experienced senior NCO. I had a huge cache of cash with me, US currency, twenties, fifties, hundreds. I was trying to put them into a leather bag. There was so much, it would fit. I shoved some into pockets but was left with more.

While this transpired, I grew aware of three men watching me. One black, two whites. All taller than me. Bigger. But middle-aged, as I was in dream world.

I suspected they were planning to jump and rob me. I wasn’t going to permit that to happen and placed my keys in my hand with the tips outward between my fingers. One of the men came close. I turned on him as he reached for me, and swung hard at him.

I completely missed.

But he was surprised, taken aback. Dropping back, he stumbled, fell, hit his head, and lost consciousness. One down. Similar things happened with the other two, where I was completely clumsy and ridiculous in my fighting efforts — I am not a fighter in real life or dreams — but still won. With them dispatched, I went to find my room, number 2407.

The complex was like a maze. Signage was almost non-existence. Doors were closed but no locked. I ended up going through quarters for different people, along with operations areas and work rooms for different squadrons. People sometimes challenged me as I walked in on dental and surgical operations, counseling sessions, and newcomer orientations. I kept walking through, trying to find my way, often telling them when they accosted me, “I wouldn’t be here if you guys had signs. This is totally ridiculous.” I vowed as I went that I would write this up to give them feedback about the lack of signs, and the disorganization which I encountered.

When I found my room, it was locked. I had a key, though. It was a calm oasis within. Paused there, I reflected on the dream’s elements while still dreaming, and realized how much it reflected my personal issues, real and imagined. Then I drew out my cash and realized that I was wealthy.

That’s how it ended.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Hello to all you deceivers and believers, along with the in-betweeners. That’s something Willie Nelson sang about.

Despite everything that happened in everyone’s lives, at least in this reality, the world has continued spinning, bringing us to Saturday, April 8, 2023. Despite those pronouncements about day and date, nature and the world outside of humanity goes about its business. Date and day and time doesn’t matter to it. We’re the believers, deceivers, and in-betweeners worrying about it.

The sun lightened the sky at 6:42 this morning. The world will spin Ashlandia into darkness at 1944, as far as we know. It’s 45 F now but 66 is possible, the weather goobers tell us. Mind the rain, it’ll be in and out all day, dismaying the cats, who were counting on sunshine.

Today’s song comes from getting out of bed. As the light in the room grew louder, I said to myself, get up, get up. That shifted to rise up, but memory of a dream was preoccupying my energy. Toward the end of that contemplation, The Neurons slipped “Run” by Snow Patrol out of 2004 into the morning mental music stream. “Light up, light up, as if you have a choice.” That brought a chuckle up. Staying in bed isn’t an option. Words to write and books to read were waiting, along with coffee and feed.

Then there are the cats, talking about me as if I was dead, conversing with one another, “Is he alive?”

“I don’t know. I’m gonna put a claw to his cheek and see what he does. Oh, yes, he’s alive.”

I guess I owe getting up to the cats. Well, they’ve been fed and released to the backyard where the hunt for sun entertains them.’re Stay pos. Coffee is ready so I’m gonna rise up and get a cup. There’s also vegan blueberry scones. Home made by my SO, who remains on a baking kick. I’m the beneficiary. Care for one? They go well with coffee. If you’re not a scone’r , she also made vegan chocolate chip muffins, which also go well with coffee. Plenty here and I assure you, they’re terrific.

Here’s Snow Patrol’s power ballad. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Deceptive-son is here. Ashlandia’s valley is deep with muted sunshine. But on my step out to test it all, winter still holds the ruler’s scepter as cold air keeps temperatures in the low thirties. Birds were plentiful and noisy, urging something that we non-birds didn’t understand. The floofs embraced sunlit spaces and conducted their post-breakfast washup. As J. Denver sang, “Sunshine on my kitties makes me happy.”

It’s Wednesday, April 5, 2023. Beer with friends is in the schedule for this afternoon. Weather spies passed a note that rain is on the way and the high will be 55 F. That’s a twenty-degree step up from now.

Democracy was vigorous in New York yesterday as former POTUS Trump showed up to be arrested. People turned up to protest him and support him, and to challenge ideas and positions. You can say it was an embarrassment for the country or a celebration of the nation’s first amendment.

A series about fast cars ruled the dream sequence. I drove red, silver, and blue cars, Ferraris, Porsches, Mercedes, among others, traveling to different places. Arriving at one place, I’d admired the view and then resume my travels. Sometimes I’d see a different car and know it as mine. Other times, I’d be told it’s mine and given keys. My wife was generally with me. Nothing eventful or untoward happened. I was just driving and enjoying myself.

With cars still revving in my head when I awoke, The Neurons were busy pulling out songs about cars. The one which ended up ruling the morning mental music stream is a ballad, “Drive”, by The Cars, 1984. If you know the song, it’s not about a car, but abut driving. The song embraces rhetorical questions, beginning, “Who’s gonna tell you when it’s too late? Who’s gonna tell you things aren’t so great?”

Enough of this typing. The day awaits. Stay pos and be strong. Here’s The Cars. And, look, coffee, and a slice of iced lemon cake. Ah, good morning.

Cheers

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Saturday’s Theme Music

It’s been raining all night. No sunshine in sight. If clouds are your thing, the sky is a delight.

37 F outside but it’s cozy in mi casa. It looks like day destined for inside activities, like writing, reading, and of course cleaning. Cuz it’s Saturday. Saturday is about cleaning in this casa.

Slept great last night. No cat woke me. Didn’t get up to pee. No, didn’t pee the bed either, those of you who went there, as I would. Had a lengthy, uninterrupted dream about previous employment and co-workers. Sunrise before seven, sunset after 7:30 PM. This is Thursday, April 1, 2023.

The cats not waking me worried this morning. Tucker was on the bed by me, sitting and watching, looking like he thought, oh, good, he’s alive. I won’t need to eat him to survive. Papi was out on the sofa curled up. At my approach, he yawned, stood, stretched, and then join Tucker and I to get some breakfast. Both seemed well. Letting me sleep all night makes me suspicious, though. I wonder what they’re up to.

I have The J. Geils Band playing “Must of Got Lost” from 1974 in the morning mental music stream. I can’t trace the origins or intent for playing this tune. The Neurons tell me, the reason must have got lost, then they cackle like crazy folks.

Stay pos. and enjoy your day. I’m off for brekkie and coffee. Here is the music. Cheers

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Three Dream Shorts

Three dreams recalled from last night.

Bottle of whiskey.

The stone-lined path.

Wanted.

Bottle of whiskey. I was with dreams friends — folks known in a dream but not in RL. My dream wife was with me, and we were visiting in one of their homes. It was the collection point, for we were going out to dinner and then have some drinks and fun somewhere. It was a small group, just six or seven people, and the place where we met was a tidy but small, modern apartment.

We were sitting around a table with a white cloth covering it. The host entered. Opening a package, he said, “I got this in the mail today. It’s a prize I won.” He unboxed a crystal bottle of whiskey.

All were impressed. He poured his each a tumbler of his prize for us to sample. I drank mine and thought was amazing. So smooth, and slightly sweet. He offered more, which I accepted. Then, time to go. We walked down to a restaurant with my buddy taking his prize whiskey along. When he reached the restaurant, he poured other fluid into his whiskey bottle, appalling me. I wanted no more after that. Then, the, the bottle changed, with the bottle’s bottom growing rounder, until it would no longer stand upright, but tipped over. After the bottle was straightened three times, it fell over and broke.

The end.

The stone-lined path. I was out with my father, who was with others. I saw him and decided I wanted to avoid him. I could do this because we were outside, under an Interstate bridge. Huge pylons were holding it up. I kept hiding behind them.

Dad was busy doing something. Curiosity bettering me, I craned out to see. He had made a three-foot wide path in the dirt. Now he was lining it with rocks which he found. Seeing me, he called out, “Come help me, Michael. You’ll be good at this.” I went and began helping him lay the stones. While I was doing that, he took me and held me close to him. I felt embarrassed. He said, “I know that you avoid me but I want you to know how much I love you and how proud you make me feel.”

Dream end.

Wanted.

My wife and I were living in a small and cluttered apartment. We delivered a disagreement about how things should be arranged, so I said, I’m going to live in another place.

I left and went down a broad staircase, looking for another place. Women began approaching me, appealing to me to have sex. Some became very aggressive, shoving themselves against me, grabbing me, or passionately trying to kiss me. I kept telling them, “No, this is not going to happen.” They would give up and others would show up.

I went back up to my apartment with my wife. She was happily going about, doing something, dressed in her sweat clothes. I remained irritated with her and asked why she was acting as she was. She didn’t answer, so I left in exasperation. Another woman, in a white sundress with auburn curls highlighted blonde, told me that she wanted to take my clothes off and suggested with go back to her place. I told her, “No. Just leave me alone.”

Dream end

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

It’s 3.14.23. Let’s celebrate with a little pie. My favorite is blueberry. How ’bout you? Reminds me of the wonderful blueberry tarts I used to buy at The American Bakery on Okinawa.

This is Tuesday. Our whiff of spring the last few days was wonderful but today demonstrates they were interludes. Yesterday only reached the mid-fifties, ten degrees short of forecasted high. Rain started during the night, intensifying this morning. With thermometers reading in the low thirties, rain progressed to slush. Heavy flakes finally showed up. Accumulation is beginning. Still, a wet snow, and the temps are expected to snake a little higher by this afternoon. It’s pretty, most exclaim, along with surprise, because it’s been so nice the last several days. It looks like mid-December out there in Ashlandia.

Sunshine on the scene was limited by the situation but was still noted at 7:25 this AM. 7:16 PM will see sunset.

I must confess, I’ve been spoiling one of my cats. He’s an old fellow now. Tucker was one of those who showed up at the door in hungry, desperate circumstances. We took him in, nursed him back to good health, searched for his people. No one ever claimed him. Now he’s my oldest. He loves chicken and luncheon meat. I’d indulged him a few times. Now he’s trained me. I’m buying lunch meat just for him.

I typically buy sandwiches and don’t keep lunch meat in the house. My wife made something with cranberry sauce and suggested I pick up turkey so I can use up the cranberry. I bought the hormone free turkey, along with provolone cheese and dark rye bread. Rye is my second favorite bread.

The sandwiches were great but of course the Tucker toll was paid. I can’t resist. When he sees me with chicken or lunch meat, his demeanor becomes instantly alert, eyes wide and shiny, whiskers spread in hope, ears spearing the sky with their straight up attention. If I start eating without first sharing with him, he steps closer and releases a plaintive wail. I laugh and surrender. Short story made long, I need to pick up more lunch meat.

Today’s music is by Tame Impala. The Neurons suggested this song after they played “That Was Yesterday”, a 1985 song by Foreigner, in the morning mental music stream. While I was thinking about the Foreigner song and contemplating my overnight dreams, The Neurons delivered “Lost in Yesterday” (2020) by Tame Impala. I knew of Tame Impala before this song, but a friend’s daughter introduced me to this particular song. Following her suggestion, I sought the music video later and enjoyed it, as she thought I would. It’s subtle and not subtle. Hope you enjoy it.

Yo, be positive. I have coffee in me, and the positive level is pretty high. Here’s Tame Impala with the music. Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Windy is the weather word for today. Windy, as in lots of wind, and it’s gonna get intense. Not hurricane, cyclone, tornado, or typhoon level, no. But hold onto your hats. Or tie them on tight.

Today is Thursday, 3/9/2023. Temperature is 42. We lack snow, fog, and rain at the moment. We offer blue sky, white clouds, and sunshine on this Ashlandia morning. The sun was coming up at 6:33 AM, when Papi did his seal bark to demand exit number three. The window beating to come back in was at 7:05. Ashlandia’s sunset comes at 6:10. We’ll be up to 42 F by then.

Papi is back out now, sitting on the porch, glaring at the wind, very dismayed with the weather. He’ll be wanting back in soon, and then will rest so that he’s fresh for his nightly needs. He is off, victimized by the book club visitors last night. Papi is not one to socialize with people or animals. He’s a loner. When they arrived, he retreated to the master BR and sulked on the bed, listening for one of them attempting to sneak up on him. He’s knockin’ to get back in now. Excuse me.

Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to be gone so long. Had to pay the floof tax and tell him how smart and handsome he is until he said, “Enough,” and dashed off. Those of you with floofs will understand.

Papi is a neat and clean cat, though. Not a fur out of place. Any out of place furs are immediately shed. It’s quite a system.

I dreamed I was trying to remember who sang “Baby Blue”, a song which came out in 1971. As part of my dream effort, I kept watching a black and white static-filled TV screen while older me shouted at younger me, “Bad Finger. It’s Bad Finger.” Younger me would not listen, but kept muttering, “Bad Company?” Arrgh.

It’s a walking song in the morning mental music stream today. Out yesterday, walking today. Winting is back and the sun and cold wind medley was enhanced by things trying to figure out if they should bloom now. All very pleasant, however. Reminded me of youthful moments. The Neurons tossed a Grand Funk song, “I’m Your Captain (Closer to Home)” from 1970 into the mix. It’s a song I often recalled when walking or driving and getting close to home. I often traveled in my youth, and then again in the military, and then again in marketing.

That’s enough of that, I’m sure. Stay pos. Treat Thursday like a golden opportunity and do your thang. Peace out.

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A Pair of Dreams

I begin in off-white thermal underwear. I dance through town, this place in which I RL live. Early spring is in effect. I leap and pirouette, twirl and bow.

An artist brush is in my hand. I flicked colors at things, dipping my brush in the colors already available, making everything bolder, brighter, sharper. Although it goes on for a while, that’s all to the dream.

It’s a younger version of me, a hybrid between my teenage self and my middle-aged individual. I smile thoughout the dream.

I land in another dream. I’m with another man. We’re in blue hospital scrubs. I know, I’m a med tech. We’re in a small city. Situated on several hills, a bay embraces the land. It’s a busy place, full of hurrying traffic, vehicular and on-foot.

A hue rises from a hospital on the hill. One of my peers shouts, “It’s a success.”

I am jealous. I wanted to be part of that. I feel cheated.

But I congratulate him and the rest and spread the news of the success. It was an arduous and dangerous operation but the patient was doing well. We were pleased. We’d helped develop catheters which saved the patient. This was their first use.

A surgeon came, gloved and masked. “They worked well,” he said. “They want some at the other facility.”

“I’ll take them,” I declare, picking up a brown box of them.

The surgeon says, “They need to be cut, shorter, and narrower.”

“I’ll do that,” I reply.

I begin walking. Balancing the box, I employ a scalpel and start precisely cutting the pale white catheters. My peer follows, saying, “Let me do something. You can’t carry the box and cut the catheters.”

But I am, continuing as we weave our way through crowds.

“The catheters are bleeding,” the other tech says.

I nod. “That’s normal. These are partly organic. That’s why they work.”

End dreams.

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