Tag: help

A Dream: Graduation

I dreamed I was at a sister’s house with other family members, getting ready to go somewhere. I never actually saw anyone but knew this and frequently spoke with them, but just in passing comments.

I knew my sister had decided to start a new business. I saw these large, clear plastic trays, made for transferring fluids, were dirty, so I stopped and cleaned them all, to help her out.

They were all in my sister’s car, waiting for me, a maroon vehicle. I then downloaded two computer things to her car: business planning software for her, and directions to my uncle’s house for me.

When I got in the car, my sister said, “There are two downloaded items.” I explained what they were.

She was driving. I got on the phone with my uncle for directions. I knew how to get there; I just needed the final address. (This uncle is deceased in real life.)

He gruffly asked me if I had pen and pencil. I didn’t but felt that wasn’t needed, and would just depend on my memory.

My sister dropped me off at a facility where I was to graduate. Others who were to graduate were also arriving, in groups. Most were younger. I got in line alone. Watching the operation, I realized that they graduated us in small groups in a building and not on stage.

As I reached the door and stopped, waiting to enter, I noticed the man behind me was trying to push me forward. I turned around and told him not to do that. He, a bearded white guy with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, backed off.

I went into the room when called forward. I again had to wait. I noticed that they were providing mysteries to the people ahead of me. They were expected to solve them using math. I began trying to shift my focus to do better.

We went left, and then right, lining up. When I was second in line, a man helping with giving out the diplomas came to me to identify me. After he did, he explained that I was graduating at a higher level than the others, and things were a little different for me. He moved me to one side to wait.

After a little bit, he brought over a white sheet of paper and told me to hold onto it. I examined it and gathered that it was a summary of my achievements and records, but it was written in a small font and was often different foreign languages so it didn’t make much sense to me. There were also symbols, like the ‘eye on the pyramid’ used on US money.

Dream end

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The Encounter

Midnight.

I turn on the master bath lights and see a large spider in one of the porcelain sinks.

Finding a tube of cosmetics, I tried to give them a lift up and out.

The spider raced around in a slipping, sliding frenzy to escape the tube. “I’m trying to help you,” I reassured it.

Withdrawing, I found a small cloth and shaped a ramp in the sink. Recognizing the opening, the spider used it to climb up and out. Then it disappeared without even a backward glance or wave.

I wonder what she’ll tell others about her encounter with a human.

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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.

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Minnesota Needs Our Help

Reposted from Mock Paper Scissors.

OK guys, if you have a couple of bucks left over there’s a lot of need in Minnesota.

Scissorhead Purplehead sends us to: A Clearing House Of Mutual Aid

And I would like to point you to: Stand With Minnesota

There’s lots of food banks, and legal funds, so pick a domain of interest and give ‘em a hand if you can. I was pleased to see organizations that are taking care of the pets of people who have been snatched, too.

It can be overwhelming choosing just one, but any amount to any of them will be gratefully received.

Thank you for all you do.

Sharing Means Caring!

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A Free Food Dream Adventure

I was in a store with friends. This clean, mostly white, and well-lit place was like a fancy grocery store. No friends from real life were present but the people there were all known to me as friends. I knew that we were there for the second time. The first time, we’d made minor purchases. Liking the place, we returned to buy more.

So, we’re in line to pay, and we’re comparing how much our purchases will probably cost. Most of what we’re buying is food, especially cheese and bread, it seems like. The owner, a young and petite white woman with black curly hair and red lips, is behind a counter ringing up purchases.

I estimate to my friends that I’m buying several hundred dollars of food. Then it’s my turn and I step up to pay but the owner waves me off. She tells me that she knows who I am, that I’m a writer that she admires, and that she loves my books. I’m perplexed as I’ve only self-published a few books and had a few stories sold, so I tell her that I think she’s thinking of someone else. No, she insists, she knows me, knows who I am, and I will never need to pay for anything in her store. Her insistence stirs guilt in me; that’s not the way the system is supposed to work. I’m also flattered but doubtful. We talk more; she stays on point. I surrender and walk out without paying.

Dream end.

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A Positive Dream

Dreamland hasn’t been a happy place recently. Dreams featured me being lost and struggling. Maggots coming out of my skin. Being a broken robot. Etc. Different nights. Each brought a new horror of who I was. I disliked those dreams.

The Neurons flipped the script last night. In this one, a young and vigorous me was starting a new job. In medical device manufacturing, as I did for a few years. I was a mid-level manager. Working alone, as, again, I often did. But I had a great cast of supportive, friendly co-workers. They checked in on me. Helped me set up an office. Joked with me and came to me for my opinion, advice, and insights.

There were some messy moments. Like, my clothes became filthy from an office accident that didn’t otherwise involve me. I felt that I had to get out of those clothes but what was I going to wear? Co-workers came through with clothes they had available. Stuff planned to work after work for the gym, golfing, and dating. They willingly gave me those clothes.

I received a phone call. There was a family emergency. I needed to get somewhere that night. But my car was in the garage. A real-life friend from now, Ron, showed up. Turned out he was a co-worker. He asked me about my problem. “I’m going that way,” he said. “I can give you a ride.” We cemented arrangements.

I was so pleased. Then, chaos broke out at work. Problem after problem. While I worked to solve them, co-workers consistently came through with tools, insights, and helping hands.

The message I took away was, yes, life is messy and chaotic. But don’t worry. Others are there to help.

It was a message I really felt like I needed to hear.

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WTF, America?

It’s another WTF, America news item today, courtesy of Alabama. This story happened Sunday, but the news is spreading. A couple were in a car. It had hit a deer. A man stopped to help them. They walked to a nearby house. Naturally, the 34 year-old man in the house shot at them. Killed the person who’d stopped to help. The driver was armed and returned fire. He and the resident were both injured and taken to the hospital.

That’s ‘Merica too often these days. Someone asks for help, and someone else tries to kill them. Sad, sad, state.

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Two Dreams of Helping

The first dream found me and my wife living in an apartment. A nice place, well lit, spacious, and quiet, it had some problems with ventilation and water, but I’d fixed them. However, one window gave me some trouble, so I went to adjust it.

I was surprised when I pulled back the window’s sheer curtains; another window, to another’s apartment was directly opposite, about a foot away. A man was over there. I easily looked into their pleasingly furnished place of overstuffed furniture (it was their living room) and then, as I thought was right, apologized to the man and made haste to shut the curtains and pretend they weren’t there.

But the woman, short, with thick, dark hair, was hurrying forward, calling, “Wait, wait.” So I did. She rushed up and asked, “How did you fix your ventilation?”

I had no real answer, explaining that I’d just kept tinkering with it. Impatiently, she interrupted, “Well, can you fix ours?”

Weirdly, there were then two other windows I could see in other people’s apartments. A woman was at each, a man behind them asking, “Can you also fix ours?”

I was taken back. I hadn’t done anything special that I could explain. I’d just kept addressing it. But I couldn’t tell them no; they wouldn’t let me. So I agreed to fix their places.

Dream end.

The next dream found me in a small square waiting room, darkish with heavy wood paneling. I’m not sure where people were waiting to go. I wasn’t waiting but just passing through. A woman escorted me through the room. I came across one individual, a man on the floor. Bearded with curly brown hair, he seemed almost lifeless.

“Oh, that’s Reardon,” the woman said when I asked about him. “He’s a lost cause. He doesn’t have a reason to go on.”

That upset me. Though the woman and I continued on through the room, Reardon stayed on my mind. I finally said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t just leave him like that,” and went back.

Getting to him, I just gave him a long hug and talked to him, telling him that he was special, and that he shouldn’t give up. Then I went on.

I next came back into the room. Much lighter than it was before, a door was open on the other end. People were filing out. Most were already gone. Looking around, I asked about Reardon. I was told that he had recovered and that he was about to go through the door. She said he was very happy with what I’d done and kept talking about me.

I hurried over, calling him as I did. I didn’t want him to have the wrong idea, which to me, was that I was in love with him. I don’t know why I was suddenly worried that this is what he’d believe.

I called his name when I saw him. He turned and greeted me. At least a foot taller than me, I was forced to look up at him. In his right hand was a thick fan of money, mostly $100 bills.

Seeing me, he grinned. “I know what you’re going to say. I know what you’re thinking. You think that I think I’m in love with you, but I’m not. I understand what you did. Honestly, it saved me.”

He offered me money as a gift. I declined, saying something else that I don’t remember. We hugged, my face to his chest. A woman at the open door said it was time for him to go. They were waiting on him. Reardon released me and went through the doorway.

Dream end.

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DIY Part Infinity

Every other year, it seems like I’m working on my air conditioner. It’s less than twenty years old by a handful of years, so you’d think it’d be fine. But the truth is, pieces on it regularly fail. The first year of failure, a service guy told me what failed and why, and added, “Parts are made to fail anymore. They have a short life.” He didn’t know if companies were cheaping out on materials or making deliberate choices to reduce parts life to generate more business. He and I agreed, it was probably both. Since I was skeptical of his claims, I researched his assertions on the net and found there’s growing supporting evidence for them.

That aside, I began teaching myself DIY stuff via videos and forums. Replacing the garbage disposal, fixing toilets, sinks, and sprinkler systems, repairing the furnace and air conditioner, whatever came up, I sucked up a deep breath and muttered, “Charge.” Fortunately, the net is full of advice and instructions. Some of it is shit, but there are some solid, helpful sites.

It looks like the air conditioner is in the batting box again in 2024. I flicked it on the other day and…nothing. The usual first steps of settings, circuit breakers, and switches were checked. All good.

I went right out, removed the air conditioner’s service panel, and then the little protective cover on the starter, and pushed in the plunger with a screwdriver. The A/C roared on. Good, it’s getting two forty. Good. A multimeter showed, yes, there is 240v coming to it, but hey, no 24 volt power. Ah.

Back to the thermostat. I pulled the cover off and checked the batteries. Then I checked voltage on the red (power) line and yellow (AC). Nothing. Ah. Must be up in the furnace.

The furnace is in the ‘attic’ crawlspace, a vertical unit sitting on its side above the garage. I laddered up there into the heat. 89 F outside, it felt like it was the upper nineties up there. My body turned on my sweat like I was watering a garden

I turned off the furnace at the switch on the wall and pulled the panels. Safety switch looked good. No loose wires. But also, no blinking diagnostic light on the control panel. The control panel didn’t seem to be getting energy. I checked the little five-amp fuse: intact. Okay.

Power was put back on and the panel safety switch was taped down. I used the multimeter to check voltage on the black L1 power line in and a neutral. No power. For grins and giggles, I also checked the 24v power line and found no power, kind of as expected. Tracing the L1, I realized that in my system, it doesn’t come directly in from the safety switch; the line goes to the stepdown transformer.

As it’s a dark, cramped space, I took a photo of the transformer with my phone so I could study it. When I did, I immediately spotted what looked like damage from aging. Deciding WTH, I went down to the computer, found the piece online, and ordered it.

A heat wave is coming. Upper nineties tomorrow, 106 to 112 F here in Ashlandia on the fourth, and like degrees on the fifth and sixth. The part is due in anytime between the third and the eighth. Hope it gets in on the third but…not holding my breath on that.

Also, hope it is the transformer, because it’s an inexpensive part and an easy fix. If it ain’t the transformer, it’s either the wiring going through the house (which really doesn’t make sense) or the controller board. The board is more expensive and more involved to replace. I don’t want to do that but…if I must…

As stated, I so hope it’s the transformer. Fingers. Fucking. Crossed.

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