A Classroom Dream

I arrived with another man — my boss — and parked in a parking garage. The car, like others there, was a mid-1960s vintage. Windows were left open so cars could stay cool, a precaution in those pre-AC days.

My boss and I were going to a conference together, meeting our team. When we went in, we learned that we would be learning about and practicing Statistical Process Control. I already knew SPC so I decided to duck out. Taking a long piece of brown cardboard from a window, I returned to my car, put the cardboard over the windshield, and napped.

Waking up later, I realized I’d overslept. Jumping out of the car, I literally ran into my boss. He said, “I’m off now, have a good weekend,” and trotted away.

Hot, I decided to strip off my clothes, leaving only my shoes on, and entered the classroom. Everyone else in there were women. They all noticed that I was naked but nobody said anything.

As I started walking through, a woman called me over to chat with me along with several other women. She was showing us her marvelous new material, which could be used on tables or floors. It seemed odd to me to be doing that then but I looked at her samples. All were bright and colorful, and very shiny, with pieces of different colored tiles embedded in them. As I looked, she asked me, “What would you choose for your floor, Michael?”

At that point, someone else called for my attention. I began walking away but called back, “My floor would be light gray but very shiny.”

Sitting down at a desk, I listened to our team lead, speaking at the front and realized they were finishing an exercise. Deciding that I wasn’t comfortable being naked, I went back to another part and discreetly put on a casual shirt and shorts. Then I went back.

The class was ending. I stepped outside into sunshine and wondered what I should do.

Sunday’s Theme Music

Ashland — February 15, 2026. A gray Sunday, fog covered dawn’s fingers. 50 F outside, rain and 55 are expected today. Snow is supposed to be coming this week — 20% chance.

My cold is worse, and I felt sicker yet when I read of Trump’s ‘Valentine Day’ letter to his supporters. Part of it read, “It’s Valentine’s Day! I love you, and I was pretty sure you loved me back! Is everything okay? Roses are red, violets are blue. Do you still love Trump, as I love you? Before you read my letter – do you still love me and our great movement?”

Trump makes it about himself first and foremost. Second — money.

Family drama ensued last night. Sis went down to pick up Mom’s dishes, tidy, see if Mom needed anything. Hearing Mom on the phone, she stopped and listened. Mom was telling tales on sis and sis’s husband. Then Mom said she was going to kill herself.

Sis intervened. Turned out Mom was talking to daughter number 1, down in Georgia. Sis set up a conference call with me and the other sisters to talk about what should be done. I recommended calling 911. They didn’t like that. Looking up information, I suggested they call Resolve, an Allegheny County function set up for situations like this. After more conversation, that’s what sis agreed to do.

Sis called and spoke with an intervention specialist who said they could send a team out. If they didn’t send a team, they recommended sis stay with Mom the night to keep tabs on her, which sis said that she couldn’t do.

Another sister, let’s call her #2, lives near Mom and sis. She called Mom. She texted us that Mom sounded loopy and claimed she’d taken pills, type and number unspecified. Sister #2 also said that Mom told her she’d left an envelope of money for her. Mom added, “My body would be there, but I won’t be.” Sis called 911.

At midnight Eastern time, sis told us the police and EMT arrived and took Mom to the hospital. Later, we heard the needed paperwork was signed and approved to begin the process of evaluating Mom. They’re looking for a geriatric bed in a psychiatric bed for further evaluation. Sis went into Mom’s room afterward and found a stash of used adult diapers stuffed between Mom’s pillows. That’s stunning — appalling. Mom was a clean freak. Those hidden dirty diapers are alien to everything Mom has ever been, ever done.

Now we’re trying to learn where things will go. Mom and sis agree, Mom is not returning to sis’s house. The family agrees that Mom, 90, hallucinating, a fall risk, should not be allowed to return home but the state and county might have the final word on that.

Today finds The Neurons playing “Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves” in my morning mental music stream. The 1985 hit song was written by Annie Lennox and Dave Stewart, and sung by Lennox and Aretha Franklin. The song’s presence has nothing to do with Mom’s current situation; I was just thinking of my sisters and the song began playing in my head.

Hope the day finds you healthy and happy, and that grace and peace drop by to alleviate your fears and anxieties.

Cheers

Awesome Toons

Just in time to save my sanity, I clicked on Jill Dennison’s Saturday Afternoon ‘Toon Time! Quite a collection of humor, I encourage you to check them out. Meanwhile, here are my Saturday super-seven favorites.

Friday’s Theme Music

Colder but dry, Friday the 13th stole into Ashland. Sunlight and warmth are now missing, shrouded by thin clouds.

It’s February 13, 2026, 48 F in Ashland, but that ‘feels like’ index probably shows a colder picture. Today’s high will be in the low 50s, still better than many areas.

Pivoting from weather to Mom, it pains me to report that Mom, 90 years old, texted me that sis is slapping her, shouting at her, being mean, etc. Mom also accuses her son-in-law of sneaking in at night to hide her remote control, lock the brakes on her wheelchair, and other cruel things.

None of it is true. Sis has sent me several recordings of her interactions with Mom. Mom insists her stories about the SIL of doing things to her is ‘absolutely true’, adding, “Why would I make it up?”

But Mom is staying up all night, sleeping all day, exhibiting classic sundowner syndrome, including confusion about what’s going on and the date. She texts other sisters in the middle of the night, asking them where they’re at, asking them to bring her things to eat and drink, when she has both available.

Sis is again angry and frustrated with Mom and wants Mom gone, based on what Mom is saying about sis’s husband. The managed decline in their relationship and Mom’s situation continues.

All that about Mom has The Neurons playing “Slip Slidin’ Away” by Paul Simon in the morning mental music stream. Lyrics like these make it feel like the song fits the day.

Lyrics

I know a woman
Became a wife
These are the very words she uses
To describe her life
She said a good day
Ain’t got no rain
She said a bad day’s when I lie in bed
And think of things that might have been

I feel Mom is doing a lot of looking back, wondering what happened and pondering what’s going on.

I hope you all have a strong day of health and safety. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Wednesday, February 11, 2026, and it feels like spring is launching in Ashland. Let’s call it a false spring. 51 F with unchallenged blue skies and sunshine, 60 F is the expected high. Papi would be so happy, except a balmy breeze, which chases him back inside to nap his misery away.

I have dental surgery tomorrow, disrupting the normal flow, and spent time this morning responding to texts about Mom’s mental issues. Connecting dots, my thoughts turned toward an overheard conversation from yesterday.

Sitting in the coffee shop, typing and thinking, two women of about my age shared a table to my right. Music and conversations were cooking but now the room was empty. The two women’s conversation floated to me through the sudden quiet.

One chatted for a while about health concerns regarding her mother, daughter, and herself. The tone changed a little as the other one talked about her concerns over Trump’s policies, ICE, and the general news tone, which she referenced as ‘disturbing’.

The first woman agreed with her and they both addressed concerns about being tired and depressed. Then they touched hands and smiled, telling each other how much it meant to meet and have moments like this.

I studiously tried to stay out of their circle. But one glanced at me and smiled as they rose to leave. Smiling back, I said, “I hope you have a beautiful day.” Thanking me, she wished the same for me.

Their conversation resonated because it feels like an echo of my life, and other people I know. We’re all sailors trying to navigate change. Some of it is about aging, maturing, dying, not necessarily depressing but certainly generally somber matters. Norms for me and them are shifting, and so are expectations. Our emotions become compressed under the loads we carry.

With all that rolling through me, along with dreams, The Neurons’ morning mental music stream offering is Harry Styles singing, “As It Was”.

Chorus

In this world, it’s just us
You know it’s not the same as it was
In this world, it’s just us
You know it’s not the same as it was
As it was, as it was
You know it’s not the same

That about sums up my reflections this morning: it’s not the same.

Hope peace and grace find and carry you forward into a better future.

Cheers

Monday’s Theme Music

Monday, February 9, 2026 — Ashland, Oregon.

39 degrees F outside. Blue sky is breaking through patchy fog. Unlike yesterday, we’re seeing sunshine. Yesterday saw rain all day, which is good for the earth and our cisterns and water supply but we still need snow. Today’s high will be 52 F.

Yesterday was Super Bowl LX. I watched a little over half, enjoying Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime show. I understood less than a handful of words, but the vibes of community, life, joy, and love were fully understood and received. Reading today’s news, I understand that Donald Trump hated it.

Besides his negative comments on Bad Bunny, Trump also called skier Lindsey Vonn. Vonn, an Olympic gold medal winner and four-time world champion, broke her leg in Olympic games yesterday while representing the United States.

Going back to the Super Bowl, the other hype often comes from the expensive but interesting commercials seen during the game. I liked the commercial featuring NFL tight ends and an ad where the NFL extolled youth football coaches. Most of the rest strike me as ‘meh’. I actively disliked the Cadillac Formula 1 team ad, which employed President Kennedy’s speech about going to the moon. with the launch of their racing car. You know, good for Cadillac, but come on, it’s a race car in a well-established sport.

Looking out earlier, watching Papi find the sunshine and checking out the trees, The Neurons fed “The Trees” by Rush into the morning mental music stream. The lyrics tell about conflict between maple and oak trees. The maple trees want more sunlight, but the oak trees are too tall. It’s resolved by hatchet, axe, and saw.

Look at that; outside the window, the fog is back and the sunlight is tucked out of sight.

I’m trying to stay safe and sane, optimistic and realistic. Hope you can do the same.

Cheers

The Brown Cougar Dream

My wife and I arrived at a resort hotel, meeting our friend, Bob and his wife. Real-life note: this is not the same Bob from my previous dreams, but a friend and co-worker from my military days. The wife in this dream wasn’t his real-life wife.

Bob, who was prematurely bald, had thick black in the dream. My wife and I had just arrived. Bob and his wife came by to greet us and make plans.

I noticed some filth on the ceiling. It disgusted me so I looked for something to clean it up. I found some spray and sprayed it all over but then needed a ladder and rag. A young hotel worker asked me what I was doing. I explained myself. He shook his head and reassured me, “Don’t worry about it, we have it covered. It’s not your problem.”

I went back into the room and noticed the spray had already made the ceiling mess almost invisible.

Bob and I ended up outside, where it was like a desert after a rainstorm. He was carrying a young animal he’d rescued. Noticing a young brown cougar down the hill, I followed behind Bob to protect him from the cougar and found a large stick to use as a weapon.

Waiting on a porch for Bob’s return, I saw the cougar watching me. As that registered, the cougar approached. Raising the stick, I yelled and made myself big.

Sitting down, the cougar asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making myself big and making noises to scare you away.”

The cougar chuckled. “Did you really think that was going to work?”

“That’s what they tell us to do.”

“Anyway, you’re safe for now,” the cougar said, “but you scheduled to die tomorrow, and I’ll eat you.”

I was appalled and vowed not to let that happen.

The cougar shrugged. “It’s going to happen. It’s on the schedule.” He indicated a bright pink and blue poster. I read the poster but saw nothing about my death on it.

Back in the hotel room, I showered and cleaned up. Bob came by to see if I was ready. I told him that I needed to shower. I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower and then realized, what am I doing? I already showered.

I was now naked downstairs and needed to up to my room. Entering the stairwell, I caught a reflection of myself and found I was astonishingly good-looking — much younger, lean and muscular, with a thick head of dark brown hair swept to one side. As I started up the steps, a young woman entered.

“Eek,” she said, pretending to turn away. Covering her face with a hand, she looked at me between her fingers. “A naked man.”

I laughed and apologized, continuing up the steps, and encountered another woman. “Locked out without your clothes?” she mused.

“Yes, that’s what happened.”

She chuckled. “We’ve all been there.”

Now dressed, I joined Bob and our wives in another area of the resort. I saw the brown cougar in the crowd, watching me. I realized that I’d forgotten something in the room and needed to go back. Bob drew up a complex map, showing me where we were and how to get back to my room, 1004, at the top of the building. Although his map was detailed, I felt bewildered and said, “I’ll never find my way back through that maze.”

Bob said, “Alright, let me go with you, at least part of the way, until you know where you’re at.”

Dream end.

Bob and the House: Just Dreaming

My dream patterns have been disrupted. I dreamed but remembered little for several days. In fact, the only thing remembered for three days in a row was a friend’s appearance. Each night featured a snippet of Bob showing up.

In the first dream, I was busy with something, looked up, and saw Bob walking toward me. I said, “Hey, there’s Bob.” Bob walked past me without saying anything. I mused, “I wonder where Bob’s going.”

In the second and third dreams, each on separate nights, I saw Bob approaching. “Hey, there’s Bob.” Both these times ended up with Bob walking up to me but not speaking as the dream memory ended.

I told Bob about that last night. He responded, “Boy, I’d really like to explore that more.”

Meanwhile, I have a full and sharp memory of a dream from last night. I was at a house with my wife and familiars who may have been cousins. I think it was a wealthy aunt’s house. The resident was gorgeous, a place that celebrated wealth and luxury.

Yet, as I walked around, I noticed horrible details: toilets were full of urine and toilet paper. Showers were filthy with mold. They had a huge, beautiful driveway made of brick and cut stones, but a grimy black layer covered much of it.

Appalled, I began looking for cleaning supplies to address these things. Doing so, I opened cupboards, drawers, and closets. Supplies were found in chaotic piles. Separating pieces, I found rags, sponges, and cleaners.

My wife came by and asked, “What are you doing?” I explained, showing her the filthy toilets and showers, then took her out to the driveway.

As I talked about the driveway to my wife, I noticed a young woman cleaning part of the driveway with a pressure washer. Interrupting her work, I clarified what she was doing and then asked her to wash some of the black off another part. She responded, “I’m not supposed to work on that part.”

I said, “Can you do me a favor and wash it off a little so I can confirm what’s under it?”

She did, confirming what I thought. I showed my wife and remembered, “This part is really bad because they used to have an RV parked here. I’m going to get a power washer and clean it off.”

That’s where the dream ended.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Sunshine lit up the room today. It’s Thursday, February 5, 2026, in Ashland but the weather defies that date. Papi and I went out to the back patio and enjoyed sunshine.

“It feels balmy out,” Papi noticed.

“I agree,” I answered.

Oh, wait; reverse that. Papi agreed to me, or so I thought from how he threw himself down and rolled around, inviting a belly rub and purring.

62 F online, my home says it’s 69. White pulled-taffy clouds have a small footprint in the dominant blue sky. Highs might crest 70.

Talking with friends last night, we agreed, nice weather but worrisome for the coming summer’s water needs. Meanwhile, sis sent me photos of her glistening snowclad yard, pretty but 22 degrees.

I showed sis’s snow photo to my wife. “Yes, it’s pretty until it melts,” my wife offered. I agreed.

My wife mentioned that TrumpRx was launching tonight but didn’t think it would do well.

Trump certainly has a chaotic and checkered history that sets his efforts up for doubt. As for TrumpRx, we’ll see. Only time and facts will reveal the truth.

The Neurons pulled a strange song into the morning mental music stream. “Kings and Queens” by Aerosmith came out almost fifty years ago. I knew it from their album but I don’t think I’ve ever heard it on the radio. Yet, there I was, singing it to myself in the kitchen as I fulfilled Papi’s feeding needs.

I suspect the song came up because I’m serving Papi and thinking about recent political developments.

Onward into the day’s mettle with hopes that peace and grace find and carry us. See you on the other side of the coffee cup.

Cheers

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