The Look

A woman entered the coffee shop. Not a busy place this day, I typed, half-watching her as I do with almost everyone who walks into my line of sight. I noted that she put down her small case and then paused, head swinging around, a small frown creasing her face. Picking her case up, she drifted toward the coffee shop’s center.

I knew the look. Walking over, I said, “Excuse me,” and pointed at the table she’d been at when I had her attention. “There’s an outlet in the middle under the bench.”

Seeing the outlet, she laughed and said, “Oh, thank you!”

Nodding, I answered, “I knew the look,” followed by, “You’re very welcome,” and headed back to my seat, feeling really good about helping someone else in such a small way.

Saturda’s Wandering Thoughts

An elderly woman asked for my help at the coffee shop yesterday. She’s another coffee shop regular. I’ve seen her here for several years. By observing and eavesdropping, I knew where she lived, what she drove, her previous occupation, her standard order, and her name.

She’s named Sandy. As I helped her, she said, “I was an elementary school teacher.”

I replied, “What a coincidence! I used to go to elementary school.”

She laughed.

I’m thinking of Sandy today because I’m reflecting on Mom. Mom is 89; Sandy is 82. I’ve witnessed Mom’s decline over the past decade. I’ve seen Sandy declining over the past two years. She used to have no problem walking. Always a diminutive person, she seems smaller, thinner, and weaker, and struggles to stand, sit, and walk. Terrible to see.

It affects me because I’m also seeing such a decline happening in my wife. It’s surreal because I’ve had many more medical emergencies and don’t attend to my health as my wife does. I generally bounce back from whatever I endured. Yes, my bounce is not as high these days, and it takes more bounces to get back to close to what I was. My wife, though, is slowing and weakening. She often loses her balance. Her diet and activities are becoming so limited.

All of this reminds me of how impermanent things are. This is true of products, societies, our bodies, our existence. Ground Penetrating Radar finds forgotten settlements. We come across photographs of relatives we never knew about. Genetics and genealogy can fill in blanks about who your ancestors were but it’s typically in broad terms. Names, places, occupations, mostly.

It all finally roosts in me as a reminder to not take things for granted, whether it’s success, health, family, or your government. Nothing really lasts forever. Worse, the ending can come without much warning. As in so many other matters, it’s something which I learned before, and then forgot.

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

He hated to do it. It seemed shameful. But.

He was helping a friend, staying in contact, checking on her, trying to encourage her. But she’d become belligerent lately. Combative. Seriously negative.

It exhausted him. He decided he needed a break. Had to take care of himself so he could take care of her. It felt like a rationalization, but he knew he was right.

A World War I Dream

I was a young US Army officer. I knew that WWI had ended a year or more before. As a lieutenant, I was strangely working alone. I’d come upon the wreckage of a country road that curved and went up and down a hill. I thought, if anyone is to use this road for any purpose, they’ll not be able, because it’s in a horrible state. The asphalt was torn up and debris littered the path, hindering any sort of swift passage. I took it upon myself to fix it, ordering others to bring me different types of materials and directing them to clear things away. When the materials were brought to me, I’d throw it on the ground, then jump on it to break it up, shuffle it into place with my shoes, and stamp it down. It was a remarkably effective process. I quickly had a flat, clear road. Both aspects pleased and astonished me.

A young woman, who was an Army captain, but who resembled my real life wife as a young woman, came along and inquired about what I was doing. I was almost finished by then. Seeing her, I was instantly smitten; I could see my feelings were reciprocated. Weirdly, she was dressed in gray sweat clothes, but I knew she was an Army captain. Affecting modesty, I bragged that I was fixing and improving the road for future use, suitably impressing her that I’d made that choice but that I was also doing it so well. A general officer and his staff came along in a jeep. They stopped to admire my work. The general asked, who was responsible. I claimed credit. He made a little speech about intelligent and motivated young men like myself being the country’s future. Then they drove off.

In a strange detour, the dream changed perspective. My dream camera focused first on a small crab in shallow water. I knew from watching it that it had become infected with something. My dream camera then showed a young woman in black clothing and back open-toe sandals come down. She stepped into the water. The infected crab crept into her shoe.

The dream perspective changed back to me. I was watching that young woman. She was now walking on the road that I’d fixed. I said to others with me, “She’s ill. We need to help her before it’s too late.” She collapsed, unconscious, at that moment. We rushed to her. As I bent to help her, I yelled at others to call for help. No one moved at first. I demanded more insistently that one of them call 911. He began looking around for a phone. With increasing exasperation, I told him to use his cell phone. He finally pulled it out and called 911. Help was already arriving, but the woman was dead and blue. Standing, I told the others, this is a warning, that we need to be vigilant because an infection is spreading.

Dream end.

The Moving-Planets Dream

Although it’s the moving-planets dream, it segued into a pants dream. That’s how I first thought of it.

We were given papers. “Follow the instructions on the papers,” we were all told. I’m not certain how many others were there. I’d guess about forty. I had an impression that I was middle-lower grade. We were doing something with planets and their orbits. Changing positions. De-conflicting paths and influences. The papers explained how to do these things. After a hesitant start, I picked up the idea and easily did my part, watching through large windows as I changed the paths and directions of gassy giants and small stones. An upper-level man came by and complimented me on my work. Told me, “You obviously have it. Go help some of the others. Some of them don’t get it.”

So I walked about, holding my paper, helping others learn how to move the planets. This was an introduction to a larger project. Once we knew how to move the planets, shift orbits, and change rotations, we were working on a larger project of aligning the planets for the most beneficial influence. By now, I’d read several people’s paper instructions. I’d learned that all were different in the details but with the same general practices and skill sets. Although my rank hadn’t changed, I was highly regarded and now considered adept at moving planets.

It was with some surprise then, followed by trepidation, when I concluded that some of the instructions were wrong. I went off and found the head guy and told him why I thought it was wrong. He decided that what I said made sense. He wanted to gather the whole group so I could explain it to them.

I agreed. Preparations were made. I decided I didn’t like my pants, so I made new ones, cutting them from cloth that I found, and then sewing them. The results were stunning. Form-fitting. Crisp creases. Neat darts and pleats. Perfect length. Cuffed. I was impressed by how my appearance improved by the change of pants.

The head guy and others came by to tell me they were ready. I had my pants on. My pants were different from everyone else’s. They stopped me and gathered around, asking, “Where did you get those pants? They’re perfect.”

“I made them,” I answered.

They were astonished. Wanted to know more. Felt the material. Had me turn so my pants could be admired from all angles. The rest of the people came in as this happened. They applauded my pants. The attention embarrassed me. With my new pants on, I was ready to explain to everyone where our plans to align the planets was amiss. I stood up to address them against a backdrop of stars and planets through tall, broad curved windows.

Dream end.

The Measurements Dream

It was a weird shopping dream. A bunch of other things had happened where I was going around shopping but then I came to this point. I was helping people shop. Roped into it because I was there and knew what was going on, I was friendly and upbeat about helping others, eager to do it because they were grateful for the assistance. But then I encountered a trio. It seemed like a husband, wife, and older child from what I saw, but that’s a guess. White, all were overweight. I was helping them get three ounces of the product that they wanted. Measuring it out, I handed the white bag to them. “What’s this?” the man asked. “We wanted three ounces,” the woman said while the child hovered sullenly behind them.

I was confused because this was three ounces. I showed them the scale and measurement with the stuff on it. “That’s three ounces. That’s what you asked for.”

The woman smirked. “We want three ounces.”

Her smirk irritated me. “This is three ounces. Look.” I pointed at the scale. The line for help was piling up. “That says three ounces.”

The man and woman peered at it. “Where?” he asked.

I pointed again, moving my finger to emphasize where it said three ounces. “There. That says three ounces. You said you wanted three ounces. This is three ounces.”

The woman smirked. “We. Want. THREE. Ounces.”

WTF? Seriously. Looking back on the dream, it went on with more of the same. My frustration kept rising. With crowd noise growing from impatient people waiting behhind them, I was finally rid of the people only for them to return a few minutes later. Flummoxing me more, they insisted they hadn’t been there yet. “We want three ounces,” the man said. The short woman was holding the white bag I’d given them before. Their listless boy hovered beside her.

I asked, “Do you want three more ounces?” They gazed at me like stupefied cows, so I said, “Because I already gave you three ounces.” I pointed at the white bag in the woman’s hand. She looked at it like she’d never seen it before. “Isn’t that what’s in that bag?”

She said, “We want three ounces.”

I gave up. Just walked away. People called after me but I kept going with the thought, there’s somewhere else that I need to be.

Airport & Parking Dream

Airports are another frequent feature in my dreams. I was in one again last night.

It was a lengthy dream. First, there was going to the airport. I was with my wife at that point and we just walked into the airport. Modern and friendly, the airport was as busy and hectic as a children’s playground. I met with a friend who sold us tickets. Business was slow, so he was also fishing and selling his catch. We laughed about that. Most interesting was that his fishing lines rose into the sky like he was controlling kites. We didn’t think anything of it.

After buying the tickets, I had time and busied myself shopping, eating, and walking around, classic time killing, airport style. While doing this, I saw a wonderful orb spider web. It was perfect. Just as I was about to comment on it, a woman ahead of me turned to it. Dressed in a red dress with red shoes and hat, this thin blonde woman walked into the spider web. As she did, I told her, “You’re walking into a spider web.”

She freaked when the web came across her face, and fell backwards. I was expecting that and easily caught her shoulders and kept her upright. While she expressed thanks, I helped her collect her purse, hat, and shoes. Yes, she’d lost her shoes. She joked, “I was scared right out of my shoes.” After helping her, I checked the spider web. It remained intact, which pleased me.

I encountered several friends. One was looking for me. She needed help with her math work for her college class. She showed me the problem. Hugely involved, it was supposed to be a formula for setting an item’s price. She was asking, “What should I do first?” I tried explaining math’s order of operations. She didn’t understand. Borrowing her textbook, I hunted for items in the book to help her, and then worked on the problem myself.

It took more time than I expected, and I didn’t solve it. Now I was two hours late and needed to rush. Going through the airport, I saw my friend again. Others near me wondered aloud what his lines were for. I explained to them that business was bad so he was augmenting his income by catching and selling fish. They didn’t believe me so I took them to him and verified it.

Then, really, I needed to go because I was late. But I couldn’t recall where I’d parked my car. Then, thinking I knew where I’d parked my car, I needed to figure a way to get there because it was far. I learned a shuttle was available to reach it. I purchased a ticket for the shuttle. It showed up after a few minutes. I put my things in the trunk and rode with the rest. At the other end, I got off, collected my stuff, and looked around. I knew right off that this wasn’t where my car was parked. I went to the man and told him. He said I needed to take a second shuttle from there, and to put my stuff back into the trunk. When I went to do so, that car had left without me. I was surprised and a little upset but immediately started working on another plan to reach my car. Looking around, I started figuring out where I was and then decided I could walk to my car.

That’s where the dream ended.

Korea & IBM Dream

My old buddy, Randy, was a dream guest last night. He passed away in 2016 from colon cancer so seeing him was a surprise.

The dream started with an IBM conference. I worked for IBM and sometimes dream of them. In this instance, I was at an annual meeting. A product announcement was made. IBM’s stock price jumped a dozen dollars. We were all happy, looking forward to the future. Then, hours later, it was back down to where it had been, $77 a share. I saw that in red on my phone and told everyone, “That’s what always happened.” That started a thinking process for me: maybe I should be shorting IBM. I continue thinking about that during the dream.

Meanwhile, we needed to go to another location to meet and eat. We were taking our cars. Mine was a dark blue Audi S7. I was so pleased to have it in the dream. An older woman had a dark blue car as well. She had a window cut out. A note written in black marker on an orange piece of paper was by the hole, along with a cup. The note said that she would appreciate donations for tolls.

We all took off driving. The woman left first. I was third in line. I knew the road. Realizing we were coming up to a corner that would be slick with ice where it’d be easy to spin out of control, I slowed down. Others passed me.

One of those cars crashed. Coming up on the scene, the other driver was laying in the ice and sludge, alive but injured. I stopped my car, put on my emergency blinkers, and jumped out to help him. Other cars were coming. Hurrying out to meet them, I used hand signals to warn them to stop, then I went back and helped the other person.

We reached the hotel restaurant. I realized we were in Korea. I saw Randy across the room. He looked just as he did the last time that I saw him. I called out, but he kept going. My co-workers and I got in line to order food. I was second in line behind someone whose order was being filled. For some reason, though, the servers ignored me and started taking others’ orders. That enraged me. I started to make a comment but the manager realized what was happening and had someone hasten over to take my order. I didn’t know what to order though. I eventually asked them for a food that I didn’t know. I thought it was potatoes but they told me no, it isn’t potatoes. They asked me if I wanted sauce and different things added. Since I had no idea what anything was, I told them, yes to everything.

Taking my food on a red tray, I went to find a table and saw Randy again. This time he saw me and came over to chat. I invited him to join my group and introduced him to a couple people. Reaching the table, I realized it was broken. Setting my tray off to one side, I turned the table upside down. The legs had come lose. The screws were there, so I said, “Screw it, I’m going to fix this.” After re-attaching the table legs and tightening the screws, I turned the table over.

We all put out food on the table and sat down to eat. That’s where it ended.

The Help Dream

Located in a large office, I was busy. Although modern and plush, with room for dozens, only one other was in the office with me. We were calling into a help line. My purpose, though, was to find an assignment for someone who I could help.

I struggled with the line. Static garbled messages. I wasn’t certain if I’d reached a live voice or a recording. They couldn’t understand me, either.

After several times of calling, not frustrated, but amused and determined, I decided to go down to dispatch to talk to them in person.

Dispatch was busy and chaotic. Obviously, something had gone awry with the system. Others, thinking like me (or me, thinking like them), went down to dispatch to get assignments (and, from eavesdropping, to provide feedback and updates). Several dispatchers were busy at work behind a dark counter. Not knowing where the line began and end, or where people queued, I marched back and forth, mocking the system. That annoyed the dispatchers, who asked me to stop doing that because it distracted them. Though I found it all funny, they didn’t.

A food bar offered choices of snacks from sandwiches and salads to pizzas, hot dogs, donuts and bagels, along with coffee and tea. I checked it out but passed.

At last, with many gone, the lines finally in order, I approached the counter and was given an assignment. Pleased with that, I went off to the phones to contact the one I was supposed to help.

The dream ended.

The Green Parrots Dream

Millions of bright green things floated and twirled through the sky toward me and the rest. They reminded me of green snow flurries. A companion said, “What’s that?”

I was recognizing them as bright green parrots. Reaching out, I collected a handful of them and confirmed, they’re green parrots. Small as peas, they were much lighter, and they were alive.

“Tiny green parrots,” I said, offering a cupped handful of parrots to another, careful not to injure the birds.

It was an odd interlude in an odd dream. Before that, I’d been helping others. First, I was at a small business. Like a food kiosk, it was a wooden structured attached to the front of a large office building. The kiosk needed painted. I was told to paint it brown. It wasn’t the best color, in my opinion, but I would do as told.

Midway through painting the kiosk, I took a break. After wandering, I came across shack. Inside was a young boy and his dog.

The boy appeared to be a ten-year-old Mexican, and the dog was black and large. I’d found the boy in a shack. Asking questions, I confirmed that the shack was where he lived. He had little food or clothing, and his body and garments reflected that.

“Come on,” I said, taking his hand. “You’ll live with me. I’ll give you food. Bring your dog. You’re a package.”

We went to my house, which had no remarkable details in the dream. Taking the boy in, I asked him his name (I don’t remember what it is), and fed him and the dog. My father entered with another man. I introduced the boy and his dog, and told my father, “He’s living here now. Take care of him.” I left.

Heading back to the kiosk, I saw a can of light blue paint. I decided that would be a better color than the brown. I don’t know whether I took the paint or bought it, but it was now mine. Heading back toward the kiosk, I encountered another kiosk. I was also painted the same brown. Meeting a woman there, I lamented about the lack of business and product and then realized that I was speaking to the owner. Confirming that, I suggested we paint her business with the light blue paint that I had. As she vacillated, I said, “I’ll do it,” and started painting it. That made her happy.

We talked while I painted. I told her that I owned the other kiosk (which had apparently transpired as I was going about) and that I was also painting my business the same color blue, and that I was adding white and gold dream. That seemed to make her happy. I told her that I’d do the same for her business.

Friends came by and began helping. We needed more paint, and I also wanted to begin painting my business, so some of us left. As we walked and talked, looking for the needed paint, the green parrots arrived.

After the green parrot interlude, I returned to my business. Friends had already arrived and were painting it the new colors. That made me happy, but a man in uniform approached.

A badge was on his shirt pocket. He was looking for the boy. I told him that he was with me. The officer told me that wasn’t acceptable. He wanted to take the boy away. I took the officer back to see the boy and show him the boy was okay. The officer still wasn’t happy, but left, promising to come back. I asked the boy what he wanted to do, and he said he wanted to stay with me. I said, “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

The dream ended.

 

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