Tag: Dreams

The Third Life

It was a night of dreams. This tale emerged from one.

Death came hard.

He hadn’t expected it. A loud noise behind him made him jump, turn, and stop as he crossed the street. A car raced toward him. He heard it but didn’t see it. The impact was short but hard.

Next that he knew, he was rising from his body, an unseen spirit slicing through the night. Below, his furry ginger body cooled on the asphalt. Stars peered through the dark, moving clouds, witnessing it all.

He was entering the quantum tunnel. Humans enjoy calling it the rainbow bridge. Amusing to him and many floofs but most respected most humans. Humans were often loyal, loving, and fun, and offered pretty good food.

He’d already used two lives, when he was two and five. First one was the stabbing. Loud voices spewed from his people. They wrestled and grunted. Glasses broke. Thumping and crying ensued.

Noises like that scared him. Fireworks. Arguments. Noisy machines.

Refuge in a dark closet among the shoes was sought. He didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t care. He never paid attention to anything not directly affecting him.

Silence fell. Body low, tail lower, he crept out.

His woman was crying on the kitchen floor. Salty snot and tears covered her face. She sagged against the dark wooden cupboards. His man was sprawled a few feet away. Blood expanded around him. A knife rose from his side.

He sniffed her, and then him, identifying anger. Love. Frustration. Pain. Death.

The decision to return the man to life was instantaneous. That wasn’t enough. The fight had shredded his people’s relationship. He not only needed to return the man to life but to a time before the fight.

Sitting, calming, eyes narrowing until they remained as emerald slits, the ginger boy focused on going back in time. A time bubble emerged in his head. He expanded it until it slipped out of his mind and into the air. Once it held him, he thought back through the hours, ignoring the shifting and burbling lights and sounds. Hard to do, because they mesmerized and threatened him.

Exhaustion skinned him after he finished. But worth it. They were happier. He took turns indulging in prolonged naps on their laps, attuning himself to their energies. When they moved, he moved, staying with them, wrapping around their legs to read their energy. As time tipped toward the remembered fight, he bit their arms or ankles, meowed and purred, or chewed their hair until their energy shifted.

“What’s with you, Gingerbread?” they asked, scratching his head and ruffling his fur. “You’re acting strange. Are you hungry? Do you want to play?”

Days passed without a fight. His purrs expanded into a loud, proud rasp. He’d succeeded.

The other life was a simpler matter, bringing the man back from death after a heart attack. After Gingerbread restored him on the sofa where his death had happened, the man awoke with Gingerbread curled up on his chest. Looking at the cat, he rubbed his mussed hair. “Wow, Gingerboy. That was some nap. I must’ve really been asleep. I feel so much better. Guess I needed it.”

Gingerbread purred back.

Yes, he decided as he floated down the quantum tunnel. His life was good. He loved his people and would miss them. He would go back.

Pushing against the growing energy currents, he pressed the other way until the night opened around him again. A light rain was slicking everything, turning it all black. His body remained where he’d succumbed. Getting back into it was a little hard because of the time which had passed, but he persisted, just as he had when he’d shed the collars they put on him. He would never wear a collar. Hated them.

“Ginger,” the man called. And then whistled.

Springing up, Gingerbread ran across the street and up to the front door. “Finally,” the man said, bending, petting him. “Was that you in the street? What were you doing? Don’t you know how dangerous that is? That’s why I worry about you.”

He picked Gingerbread up. “Come on, GB. Time to go in. Tomorrow is another day.”

4

The War Dream

War was just becoming a reality in this dream. No details about who although I was alert for militia to and individuals or small groups to come in.

Details are likewise sparse about the location. Along a lazy ocean. Cloud-streak greyish blue sky. Sands and grasses, a desolate place. Nothing familiar.

I was in my forties or fifties. Friends and family were absent. But I belonged to some sort of community. I told them war was going to commence. The majority were doubtful but being pretty certain, I set off north to collect intel because I’d heard some opposition was up that way. I had a feeling they were preparing to come down to our location and cause problems.

I was in flatlands. Staying along a road that ran parallel to the coastline, I walked, taking my time. Others accosted me about who I was and what I was doing. Two of them, a man and a teenage male, joined me. The man carried a small dog. We all had handguns but that was it.

Some opposition was spotted. We hid in scrub grass and watched. Seemed like they were looking for us. I headed toward the water and circled around them. Backtracking down the coastline from the road’s other side, I saw my companions were spotted. A man was aiming a gun at them.

Hurrying, I found another long rifle on the ground sticking out of the grass. Grabbing it, I shot the gun man three times. I then slipped forward and shot another gun man. He had a WW II Nazi helmet on. His skin became ash and fell from his body, leaving a skeleton in clothing and a helmet laying in sand and grass.

Returning to the other two, I urged one to take the rifle because I thought myself a poor shot and believed they’d do better. Continuing north, we encountered others who wanted to join us. By the time we returned to the community where I’d started, fifty men, women, and children had joined me.

We had few weapons, though. From what I’d gathered, I decided I knew where the enemy would come and set up a series of ambushes for them. Someone reported to me that the Army was arriving. I went out and met some of them set up as a watch. Speaking with them, I urged them to move because they were out of position and would be overtaken by the attacking force. They told me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I discussed it further with them. They threatened me so I snapped and dressed them down. The senior of them said that I needed to talk to the colonel.

I went off and made my case to the colonel about why his forces were placed wrong. He dismissed my concerns and basically claimed that he knew better. Writing him off, I returned to my force. They asked me about the Army. I told them that they weren’t moving but when the enemy came down, they’d eventually realize they were wrong and move.

I saw some enemy soldiers moving along the beach. “Here they come now,” I told the rest. “Don’t shoot until more are here. Try to take them alive if you can but don’t put yourself into danger.”

Dream end.

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood:

Hello, fellow organic beings. The calendar has birthed a new day, Sunday, March 10, 2024. It’s also the day most of the US ‘springs ahead’, changing our time as part of our bi-annual process to keep people tired and confused. Since I’m giving Tucker (my cat) medication every twelve hours, I stumbled through that simple math of what the new time is if he was receiving it at 0930 and 2130. The answer came too easily so I kept questioning if I had it right. That was without coffee, of course, and while I was still half-dozing, arguing with myself about getting out of bed.

Oregon’s weather mobius strip has returned us to sprinter rain. (I suppose I can shorter than to sprintrain by combining spring, winter, and rain). 47 degrees F, we’re closing on the day’s high of 48 F as showers keep window wipers busy. That sky, light gray at its zenith, dark gray crowding the horizons, doesn’t look ready to succumb to sunshine today.

This displeases my house floofs, Tucker and Papi. Both tried the outside. Finding it wanting, Tucker immediately returned. Papi had to try, try again before declaring his willingness to accept the warmth and protection from rain offered inside the house. Both are doing well. Tucker has gained weight and energy back. Fingers crossed for him to continue improving. He executed a few mad dashes in the last few days and unleashed a few loud, attention-grabbing meows.

Dreams were sparse last night and left me with “Torn” in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). “Torn” was performed by three other artists, charting high in Norway and Denmark before Australian Natalie Imbruglia recorded it and had a global hit in 1997. Some co-workers didn’t like the song because of a few lines.

“I’m all out of faith. This is how I feel, cold and shamed, lying naked on the floor.”

Several remarked, “That’s disgusting. I would never lie naked on the floor.” I always told them, that’s how she feels, and not what she was doing. Then I’d have them try to imagine how they would feel lying naked on the floor and explain that the song was suggesting she felt exposed and vulnerable. They weren’t having it. C’est la vie.

Be positive and stay strong. I’m enjoying hot coffee on this wet day, taking in the outside world as I dip in and out of revising. Go ahead, seize the day. I’m thinking about seizing a scone, myself.

Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Sunspired

Hello to all the genders and orientations on the blue marble and welcome to March 8, 2023, March’s second Friday. Although cold air still has a grip in Ashlandia, it’s climbing. We’re already up to 47 F. Give a big hand to the sun-filled blue sky for that. We hit 61 at my place yesterday. 60 is forecasted for today so fingers crossed, we’ll peak above that threshold.

Crying, “Sunshine,” the cats rushed out to warm themselves. Sharp, gusting winds chased them right back in. The floofs comforted themselves with thorough grooming before setting into therapeutic naps in sunny indoor locations.

Musically, I heard Cat Stevens with “Peace Train” on Jill Dennison’s post this morning, a powerful and memorable song. My Neurons pivoted and put “Free Ride” by the Edgar Winter group into the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). It’s a catchy tune, upbeat, rock and roll emblematic of 1972.

The mountain is high the valley is low
And you're confused on which way to go
So I've come here to give you a hand
And lead you into the promised land
So, come on and take a free ride
(Free ride)
Come on and sit by my side
Come on  and take a free ride

All over the country I've seen it the same
Nobody's winning at this kind of game
We've gotta do better,  it's time to begin
You know all the answers must come from within
So come on and take a free ride

h/t to Lyrics.com

Confusion, help, an implied call for unity…kind of sounds like someone running for office, doesn’t it?

Speaking of politics, did you see or hear President Biden’s State of the Union? I did, and it wasn’t what I expected. He said many things I felt he needed to say and found it reassuring that he directly confronted GOP obstructionism while never giving ‘his predecessor’ a name. As someone mentioned the other day, don’t give the opposition oxygen by saying their name. I’m paraphrasing.

The GOP response was predictably weak and pathetic. President Biden’s predecessor used Truth Social as the media to respond during the speech. Like many Trump endeavors, it failed to deliver what it promised, failing to load, dropping, etc. And they addressed President Biden’s physical state, ignoring anything of substance, highlighting that the GOP’s only policies are oppression, obstruction, and regression. Sad. Not much to say about the official GOP SOTU counter speech as far as I’m concerned.

I laughed at Rep. Blake Moore’s comments after President Biden’s delivery. The Utah Republican said, “I was expecting President Biden to use tonight’s State of the Union address to find common ground and inspire a shared vision for America. Instead, the president delivered a divisive campaign speech.” (h/t The Hill). This from a party who obstructed President Biden efforts to move forward as much as they can, a party embracing a serial liar as their leader, a leader who declared he’d be a dictator on day one if he’d elected, a party which doesn’t offer a political platform, a party which repeatedly turns on itself. They expected a vision for unity? Please.

Democratic Senator Jeffries handled their criticism well, pointing out that a Republican house member wore a campaign hat during President Biden’s speech and that the expelled Republica from NY, George Santos, who faces over a dozen criminal indictments, was in attendance. And of course, this party wishing for a message of unity never stood and never applauded.

Stay positive and upbeat. Remain strong and lean forward. Register and vote blue. Coffee and lemon bread has been consumed. Here’s the music, and here we go. Cheersluc

2

Sun(less)day’s Theme Music

Mood: Snogitation

Hey, fellow inhabitants, it’s Sunday, March 3, 2024. Snowstorms continue in Ashlandia, where it’s now 34 F. We anticipate a high of 41 F.

Weather alerts, winter advisories, and storm warning remain active through Monday evening. Snow kept up until mid-afternoon yesterday, resuming after midnight. Snow continued its shift until today’s early hours and knocked off again. We’re expecting more, but we’re also expecting rain, which should laden doing anything outside with icy delight. Temperatures are expected to boing back and forth, low thirties to mid forties, for the week, with rain and snow playing together. By Thursday, rain and snow is expected to wind down and we’ll see temperatures in the fifties by Friday.

More dreams, more music! That one dream, about using magic to protect a young magic trainee, was fascinating. Meanwhile, The Neurons have several songs bubbling through the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). Some are extended plays from yesterday, but “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath and “Snowbound” by Donald Fagan are both now in the mix. But another, the R&B song, “Da Dip” from 1996, is dominating. I heard the Freak Nasty tune on the radio yesterday afternoon, and those lines, “I put my hand upon your hip, when I dip, you dip, we dip, you put your hand upon my hip, when you dip, I dip, we dip,” is all over the MMMS. It’s fun singing along with those lines. I struggle with the rest because

Be positive, vote, remain strong, and keep leaning forward. Now halfway through my first cup of coffee, I feel like I can do the same. Here’s the music; hope you enjoy it. Cheers

0

Satur-day’s Theme Music

Mood: consnowplative

Saturday, March 2, 2024. The winter storm finally discovered Ashlandia. Snow fell through the night and falls still this morning. Gathering to 4 inches around my life zone, the flakes come in an unending, peaceful, almost joyous descent. The scene out there is remarkably white and colorless. Even where parts of bushs and trees can be seen, their colors are diluted.

It’s 31 F now. Snow is expected to continue all day. Tonight’s low will be 24. This is what we needed. Maps show that it’s snowing the mountains, too, building the snowpack for summer.

I’ll stay home and try to write. The cats shouldn’t cause interference; Tucker has been medicated, and the pain meds knock him out for about four hours. He grows so stll, I check for breathing and notice one eye cracking open, ears shifting, to see who’s there. Papi has explored outside and is now exploring sleep in a warm living room niche. He seems to like this space between a tree by the button chair and the enterainment center. I refer to it as Papi’s Niche.

The Neurons have loaded my morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) with music. Eric Clapton joins the Beatles to perform “While My Guitar Gently Weeps”, a particular favorite of mine. But there is also “I Want to Take You Higher” by Sly and the Family Stone, Chicago with “25 or 6 to 4”, and “Love Shack” performed by the B-52s.

Conversation with a friend may have inspired that last one. Meeting with a friend, he imparted some Vietnam conflict adventures he had as Army infantry. One story involved being ordered to get up and run because B-52s will coming in to bomb their location. He remembered looking up between the trees and seeing the bombers coming in, high and small from distance and altitude, while helicopters, lower but also small in perspective were entering the area from another direction. His order were running up a hill when then they were ordered, “Down now,” and the bombs began hitting.

But today’s theme music is another in the MMMS, “Superstar” from Jesus Christ Superstar, sung by Murray Head and the Trinidad Singers from 1969. This rocking song is relevant today as Christians work on tearing down democracy and freedom in America and work to estabish a white-man ruled theocracy ruled by a completely corrupt sinner, Donald J. Trump, by attacking reality itself.

Another dream storm last night. I’ve noticed now that I have this pattern; if I have a busy dream night, I’ll also have several songs in the morning mental music stream. But in parallel, my creativity increases, too. Wanting to understand more lead me to a search and articles like this one. I couldn’t find any decent articles talking about potential corelations between dreaming, ear worms, and creativity, but I’ll continue searching.

Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote. I will do the same. I’m up for more coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers

2

A White House Dream

I’ve always dreamed of houses, though I think those sort of dreams have tapered off in the last ten years. I had one again last night, though.

And it was confusing. A wealthy family was staying in this large and luxurious white house. My wife was with me, and we were young, and also staying there.

The house was for sale. It featured many layers set up in a cubist manner with steps connecting the square or rectangular rooms and halls. Exhibiting something of a mobious to the design (yes, kind of like M.C. Escher art), I found I could be in one end in a bedroom (there were many en suite bedrooms) and step one way and be on another level, in another room, on the building’s other end. Resolving to understand how it worked, I went about the house until I thought I’d gone through every room and knew my way around, and then started taking my wife around to show her.

Although the house was huge and way too large for us, I liked several of the rooms and rhetorically discussed with her which I liked. I speculated, too, on which room I would use as an office to write. Two really attracted me. I felt that both were too large. One had a bathroom and I thought that would be good to have. But because of the house’s design, people would sometimes need to walk through that room to reach other parts. Thinking that a disadvantage, I returned to the other room.

While this was happening, it was announced that the house had been sold. We wondered who bought it. The family staying there were’t the owners. We rarely encountered the parents, usually spying them walking through the house from a distance, but we frequently ran into the children. Early teenagers, they were rambunctious, mindless, wasteful, and destructive.

Going back to the other room that could be my office, my wife and I got in bed. The bed was just a mattress on legs, without head or foot boards, and there was no other furniture. I spooned her, pulled thick blankets up to our necks, and napped.

Some hubbub in another room woke us, pulling our attention. I went to see what was going on. Things had been damaged in another room. To be blunt, it was wrecked. I felt certain it was one of the male teenagers, because I’d seen him in that area with some of the damaged furniture, glassware, etc. So I told them what I’d seen before. He denied it but under questioning from his parents, with me pointing out some things, he confessed to what he did. As I walked away from this, I took more notice of that room. Its floor was white. I discovered one end had a raised circular dias, also white, and decided the room was set up as a party room, and that was a place where a small band could play. The room had a cutout running the length of a long wall and I speculated that the band could be playing on that platform or dias and be heard and seen from other rooms.

The dream ended with someone presenting me with a new car, a white Ferarri. Brand new, I admired the car but I dislike white cars. Thinking it would be rude to turn it down, I accepted the car. The last of the dream showed me getting into the car.

What intrigued me most about the dream when I awoke and thought about it was it similarity to a house I often dreamed of decades again. A recurring dream, I had a white house in a small town. When I explored that white dream house, I would discover doors to rooms and sections which I didn’t know I had. Sometimes other families would be living in those sections, leaving me confused about whether I owned it. But I also found myself in that house going to the house’s lowest realm, turning a corner, stepping through the door, and finding me back on the top, on the other end, just as in last night’s dream.

The other thing about both dreams is that these white houses were on the coast, looking out over blue ocean.

5

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: coffeeager, a mood inspired by eagerness fed by a couple hits of coffee

Hello to my fellow Milky Wayers. Another meh day in Ashlandia on Earth in the Sol system. Fog and clouds shield us from sunshine. Rain scurrying toward us. Temperature is 46 F with a high of 52 F drifting in. Could be much, much worse. Nothing’s on fire, no volcanos erupting, no huge, destructive storms bearing down on us. I’ll go with meh.

This is Sunday, February 18, 2024.

Peaceful reflective day for me. I’ll be back to writing in a while but letting the mind wind down a little from last night’s dream first. Jarlsberg cheese was involved. That’s all I’ll say on that.

Tucker continues doing well and improving. Papi continues to insist that he belongs to the night. We’ve lost track of the local cougar; no sightings but domestic animals continue to disappear. Whether that’s the cougar’s work is unknown at this point.

I’m back with Chris Rea again. I played “Highway to Hell” by Rea the other day. Then I watched an old episode of WILTY (Would I Lie to You) last night, where Bob Mortimer mentions Chris Rea and “Let’s Dance” in his story about Chris Rea breaking an egg into a bath for Bob. I always enjoy Bob on this show because he clearly enjoys himself. “Let’s Dance” is on the same album as “Highway to Hell”. (The song is on several albums.) Anyway, once The Neurons heard Bob say, “Let’s Dance”, the song started up in my head and remains in the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) today. I’ve included the video of the WILTY episode for your entertaiment pleasure.

Stay positive, remain strong, lean forward, and vote, please. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

The Protection Dreams

My wife and I received another round of COVID=19 vaccinations yesterday. We agreed that one kicked us harder than the others.

We received them at 11 AM. Other than pain and stiffness at the injection site, all was going well. After meeting with friends for beers in the late afternoon, I returned home and exercised. Then, about 10 PM, it seemed like someone encased my body in concrete. My newfound stiffness stunned me. Reaching down, sitting down, standing up, movement of any kind was met with defiant resistance.

Next, cold invaded my body. It reminded me of being in Korea one winter. Heavy shivering gripped me. My hands and feet felt so cold, I stuck my hands down my shorts against my groin to warm them and gasped at the shock of my cold hands. I normally sashay through the house in gym shorts and a tee shirt. Now I applied additional layers, including socks. Socks! The indignation. Then came headaches and a mild fever. I woke up at one point soaked with sweat.

Meanwhile though, I dreamed when I slept. I was heading a horizon. Tall, dark walls were being erected. That’s my protection against COVID-19, I told myself. I had variations of that dream three times during the night. The walls were different each time. In the second dream, I said, “I need bigger, stouter walls, taller walls.” Someone — a male — replied, “They’re coming.”

All three of these dreams were short. They felt like they were less than a minute, and in each, it was only me, darkening skies, and protective walls.

0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Dylany

Yeah, you know it’s the day after Monday and the day before Wednesday, and it’s January 16, 2024. Half of the year’s first month is already gone and it looks like the rest is going soon.

40 F and fog, with rain on the way, not much change, day on day. We’re looking forward to a 51 F high today.

Boy, howdy, I was enjoying so many pleasant dreams that I had no interest in awakening up and getting out of bed. Don’t know what triggered this stretch of positive night views but I’m not getting introspective with them. Just gonna take ’em as they come and accept.

Musically, The Neurons launched Bob Dylan’s “Positively 4th Street” from 1965 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark backdated). I enjoy the song’s lyrics and Dylan’s unique delivery. My favorite line, which is often cited as a fave by others, is, “I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes…you’d know what a drag it is to see you.” Which is the along the lines of the thinking I was doing, reading about why people were selecting Trump (and the hilarious comment by a NYTimes reporter that Iowa, where it’s like 87 % white, has a lot more diversity than people realize — sure). It’s the economy for them, stupid. And the border, which has got them scared. Or God. Or what/how we’re teaching their children to be a different gender or something. They often can’t intelligently articulate why, especially when facts are thrown back into their face. Trump’s lies, echoed by the right wing, is scoring points because these folks stay ensconced in a fact-free bubble. The NYT calls the bond Trump has with his besotted supporters “the most durable force in America.”

Here is the paragraph that made me almost spew: ‘“I know that he is picked by God for this hour,” said Patricia Lage, an Iowa caucusgoer who spoke in support of Mr. Trump on Monday night in Carlisle, outside Des Moines. “There are things that he has done in the past, but we all have pasts.”’

“Picked by God for this hour.” And what is the hour? The time to toss away democracy in America and accept a dictator? That’s a durable empty-headed bond, alright.

Anyway, that’s what triggered Dylan’s line on this fine Tuesday morning.

Stay positive, test negative, and carpes diem, which I will do after I carpes coffee. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑