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

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

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

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.

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.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

We’re into the week’s repeat cycle. Sunny. Blue and white sky. 35 F. High, 41. Winter warning out for later today. Snow down to 1500 feet. 1-3 inches. Sunrise a minute earlier than yesterday. Sunset a minute later today.

That’s the summary for March 7, 2023. Tuesday.

Got Foreigner’s “Double Vision” from 1978 in the morning mental music stream. Dream brought it on. Won’t encumber you with details. Actually, still sorting it. I will say that I don’t know how “Double Vision” is related.

1978 found me going from Texas to WV, from the military to a restaurant owner and a college student. Hectic period of searching for myself.

It’s a brief ‘un today. My annoyance meter is rising. Just one of those things. Happens once a month. Usually one to two days. Gets really dark sometimes. Don’t know in advance where it’ll fall.

Stay pos if you can. A sip of coffee awaits my lips. Have a better one. Cheers

Saturday’s Theme Music

“Snow is really coming down now.”

“Yep, it’s really falling.”

That’s how my wife and I talk about the snow. We’re both in our sixties and learned these sharp-edged snow statements from our parents and every other adult we were around in childhood. We’re not alone. If I say one of those statements to friends my age and above, they’ll respond with the other. Like we’re programmed.

It’s Saturday, March 4, 2023. The snow is really falling. As opposed to? Not really falling? It’s 34 F out there. Volume builds up, turning Ashlandia’s Clay Street neighborhood white. But soon as volume diminishes by a flake, it all melts away. Can’t say what’s happening in the rest of the town. I checked the cameras. We have one at the plaza downtown, 2.4 miles north. Snowing there, but not ‘sticking’, to use the meteorological term. Also surveyed the I5 cameras with the town’s exits. Traffic is thin and moving. No one in the chain-up areas. Supposed to snow most of the day, except when it’s raining. High temperature will be 42 F. As you might guess, the sun is as scarce as a Democrat at a Trump rally. White clouds rule.

Sunrise surprised us — not — we were ready — at 6:41 this morning. Daylight’s end arrives shortly after the sun’s departure at 6:04 PM.

The Neurons have Melissa Manchester singing her cover of “Don’t Cry Out Loud”, 1978, in the morning mental music stream. It’s one of two songs playing, taking turns with grave politeness. Other one is “View to A Kill”, Duran Duran, 1985. It’s all about the night’s dreams.

Stay pos. and watch out where the huskies go. My coffee is at hand, reinforcing my low energy levels. Here we go. Time to start the Saturday circus.

Here’s Melissa. Have a strong day. Cheers

The Dragon Eggs Dream

I was alone walking. Weather and the environment were pleasant and unthreatening. Trees, green grass, clear blue sky.

I’d been going along an enormous white cement culvert. Veering away from it, I found eight objects suspended in a line in the air about four feet above the ground. About the size of a human head, they were mostly pink, green, light blue, purple, yellow, gold, red, etc. They seemed either metal or foil and reminded me of wrapped chocolate Easter eggs.

With little thought, I plucked the purple one from the line’s middle. Amazingly light, I was absolutely sure it was a dragon egg. All these things floating in the air were dragon eggs. Part of my mind saw the dragons bursting from their eggs with scales of that color covering them.

Thinking I would juggle the eggs, I pulled another one and tossed the purple and then red one into the air, then grabbed a yellow one and tossed it up. When I did that, all the eggs went into the air and began spinning in a circle around me. They all followed the same orbit. Their path created a multi-hued ring. As I ooh’d and awe’d over that, a bright light flashed in the circle’s center. Within a second, the center was a starry rift. An opening, a portal, I thought.

White light reached for me. I awoke.

The Hotel Dream

Several memorable aspects emerged from this dream. My wife and I, younger folks, had bought an older place. Having moved in, we discovered it was a hotel and we had several guests. I knew them; all were male salesmen, white, with short black hair, wearing suits, with very broad shoulders. They looked like ex-offensive line men and I knew one had been. Right after I realized they were in the rooms, they began checking out. Turned out there were three.

The first salesman checking out forced me to realize that I didn’t know what was happening. Scrambling to catch up, I went through the small hotel. Dinghy wallpaper was hung, which I declared needed to be replaced. At least three stories were found. The rooms were small and the halls were tall and narrow. Several cats were present. I began taking care of them while inventorying the hotel. It was dilapidated, with a strange, brownish carpet which was bare in many spots. The salesman was ready to go and needed to pay and get a receipt. I found a system hidden behind pieces of paper taped to the top of them. The paper were notes to staff about how to use the system according to the header on one, but all were blank.

I wrote out a receipt longhand for the guest, thinking through all the line items a receipt like that should have. He was comfortable with that and prompted me, “You also need the date.” I then signed it. Holding up a fat tome, he mentioned he had a paperback book that was in the room and wanted to take it with him. I told him, “No charge,” because we had bought it used at a Goodwill for a quarter.

My wife, who’d been wandering around the place rushed over, urging me to charge him, complaining, “That’s why we’re losing money.”

I told her that I didn’t think a quarter would break us. We argued about little things adding up. I noticed that the carpet’s edges were green.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, I need to organize a checkout system. I removed the papers from atop the system and found a small gray system. Looking very old, it was turned off and didn’t seem to be attached to anything. I decided not to use it but just do everything by hand myself. The second man showed up to checkout. This went better, but he had to tell me when he arrived because I had no idea.

I realized by this point that the odd carpet was withered grass. Finding a spray bottle of water, I began walking around, spraying the grass to encourage it to grow back. As I did, I discovered petunias and tulips springing up in full bloom and called out to my wife, “Hey, look, we have flowers in our yard.” I was thinking as I did this it would be lovely to have a lush green lawn as my carpet. This lawn was full of weeds. That didn’t worry me; I would pull the weeds. Since they were inside, the weeds shouldn’t return as long as I kept pulling them when they appeared and watered the grass. Many parts of it were already green and restored. I would let the flowers stay.

At this point, the third man arrived to check out. Since I was working on the carpet-lawn, I told her to check him out and explained what to do, which she did.

After that, a very slick-appearing man in a uniform appeared. He introduced himself as ‘the major’ and showed me so beautiful shiny blue things which he’d acquired from foreign countries. He wanted to display them for sale in my hotel. My wife was instantly against that, telling me, “Don’t give him any money.” I informed the man that I wasn’t paying anything or giving money or security in any form, no security deposits, nothing, and that we would not be liable for his objects. He seemed to be agreeing with that. Then he sat down and put his legs up. His feet were replaced by prosthetics. I asked him if that happened in the war, and he said, “Yes.”

Dream end.

Five Dreams, A Few Thoughts

Five dreams are remembered this morning. Takes a while to process them. I usually do this in bed, eyes closed, pulling out their sequences. What normally happens is that I have a dream and wake up with it in mind, process it, and return to sleep. Then I dream again and repeat the process. Later, I sit and freehand the dreams. Sometimes, when the dreams become larger, more involved and remembered, I type them up. And sometimes I post that result, usually without any insights I acquired, just presenting the raw dream. In this instance, because there were five sharply remembered dreams, I just wanted to share intriguing aspects of two.

I was with my father. It was Christmas. His third wife was there, too. I’d brought twelve gifts meant for my cousins. Several of those cousins are dead. I knew that in the dream. When I showed Dad what I’d bought for who, I actually said, “Even though he died,” when I introduced their gifts. Dad laughed at that and I responded, “They’re dead but they still deserve a gift.”

Gifts included beer, pastries, pasta, and books. I explained to Dad when describing the gifts, showing them to him, why I selected each present. Dad seemed particularly surprised by the beer, which was a German Pilsner with a flippy top, which were common in Germany when I lived there.

What happened next is that I went off for a bit, returning to find that Dad gave away several of the presents to the people because he forgot buy them. So instead of a gift for my cousin, Jeff, for example, Dad gave it to his nephew, Jeff. That left me speechless. In Dad’s usual style, he laughed off my protests and explained that he just said it was from both of us so what difference does it make? The people received the gift, which is the intent of the gift being bought.

I didn’t fully buy into Dad’s position but decided yes, the person getting the gift was most important, so why be an asshole about it?

He later asked me if I had other gifts to give people, because he didn’t buy gifts for others but he thought he should receive a gift. I laughed at him, mocking his lack of preparation and planning, but took him to a white chest freezer and began pulling things out. He asked me why I put them into the freezer. I answered, “Ask your wife. She gets it.”

The other dream had a segment involving a vase. I was in a dim warehouse sort of building, metal, with high, dull lights. Items were stacked on shelves, creating a labyrinth, and lots of shadowy places.

White and tall, with flowers and dragons painted on it, the vase had several cutouts. I noticed the vase and remarked on its beauty. When I did that, one of vase’s cutouts yawned wider and issued a black cloud. I jumped back, pushing the others with me back to avoid it. We discussed, “What is that?” Several, including me, believed it to be poison. We wanted to get out of there fast but there was only one narrow path out. The vase was up on a shelf at head level along the path.

We needed to pass the vase to leave, we found, because we found every other way blocked. Two attempts were made to race past the vase but it moved each time, growing larger and growling at us. Finding a hammer, I attempted to attack it. The vase counter attacked, growling more and growing larger again, issuing more scary black gas. The vase’s cutouts now had teeth.

Someone said, “You have to get rid of that vase.”

“I know,” I answered. Swinging the hammer, I knocked the vase onto the floor. It rolled toward us in a rush. I hurdled it, but it was trapping others. I rushed the vase. It spun around me. Jumping back, I dropped the hammer. Teeth bared and roaring, the vase charged me. Dodging it, I pulled a shelf partially over, stopping it from getting me. I spotted an old black, portable television on a shelf. Grabbing the television, I lifted it over my head and slammed it down on the vase. The television and vase both broke. Enough of the television remained for me to hit it again with the television.

The vase pieces were trying to come back together. Someone threw the hammer to me. It bounced on the cement floor. I seized it and hit the larger pieces of the vase. The vase hissed out wisps of the black cloud. I started kicking its pieces around, shouting at the others to run past it and escape. After the last of them had gotten past, I picked up the largest piece of vase, threw it across the warehouse, turned and ran.

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