Tag: Home

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

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: lethargic

Today is Monday, September 18, 2023. We awoke to light fog and mist and an overcast sky. It’s transitioned to broad sunlight cut by dark swirling clouds. Temps were hanging in the low 60s but working its way up to 70 F. We’re here for two more nights, and we’re ready to head home and our normal life. Being away from floofs, routines, and habits is an energy drain.

We’re both tired, in our third hotel in six days. This one didn’t work out as well as the other two. The first was a new, modern Holiday Inn Express. They’ve become my hotel of choice in the last ten years. Second was a Hyatt House which had was heavily renovated and modernized, and we had a mini-suite. Third — current place — is a Comfort Suites which is in the throes of a long term renovation, and, sister, that renovation is needed. It’s quite a shock after the first two hotels. Breakfast in all three was fare made up of fake eggs, packaged pastries, instant oats, cereals, and breakfast meats and potatoes. Fortunately, we enjoyed the close proximit of several satisfying local eateries.

Where the hotel is located always affects our attitude toward it. In that regard, the Hyatt won. Located in Shadyside, we easily walked around to local places, encountering people who live in the area. Lot of kind, thoughtful, good-humored people were met while ordering or looking for directions. The Comfort comes in last; just out there on a busy road. So was the Holiday Inn Express, but more could be reached via car, quickly. None of the three establishments let us open the windows. We were sealed against the world. I totally dislike that. Love smelling the air and hearing the sounds.

Musically, The Neurons are pumping “The Power of Love” by Huey Lewis and the News into the morning mental music stream (Trademark haphazard). Why it? The Neurons weren’t sharing at all. No insights into where they were coming from or where they’re going. I’m just a helpless prisoner.

Stay pos, be strong, and keep moving it forward. Coffee has been consumed; time for the music. Cheers

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The Break-In Dream

I began with my wife, in our home. This place was a townhome which reminded me of our RL HMB townhome where we lived 1999-2005, but with some odd differences.

I was in the living room because I was certain I’d heard a noise. I was investigating to see if someone had broken in. As I walked around, checking to see if anything was stolen, I realized the door to the garage was open. It wasn’t before.

I walked that way. My wife stormed out of the bedroom where she’d been sleeping. “Someone broke in,” she said. She went to the garage door and rushed down the steps.

I followed, overtaking her as we left the building. We were at its rear, all grasslands, with a few trees, bordering a river. My wife said that she didn’t see anyone and went into the house. I kept looking, picking up a large stick as a weapon, because I might need to protect myself.

I spotted two couples on the riverbank. Teenagers. I called to them. They ignored me. I headed their way. They moved off, careful to never look at me. This kept on for sometime before I gave up.

Darkness overtook the land. I was more than a mile from home. Rain was falling. I decided it would be easier to get to the street and follow it home.

I reached the street. A small brown dog was trying to cross it but was afraid of the traffic. It wasn’t much but I understood the dog’s fear. “Come on, I’ll help you,” I told it.

It came to my side. As we looked, it started across the lane. I saw a car’s yellow headlights coming toward us from the left. “No, not yet,” I said to the dog. “Come back.”

The dog did. We watched that car pass. There was a median strip. I told the dog, “Come on.”

The dog and I crossed to the strip. It stayed with me as we waited for traffic to pass and then went on.

I trotted along in the rain, the dog beside me. I saw no collar on him or tags, and talked to him, asking questions. As we crossed one street, he suddenly turned left and took off in a run. Going home, I guessed.

I turned right and crossed the street. I was home now. It was daylight. The rain had stopped, and I was dry.

I went into the house and armed myself with some hard plastic tubing. My wife was making dinner. I heard a noise from the garage and went to investigate.

A Filipino man was there. Seeing my plastic tubing, he became withdrawn and acted like he was leaving. I asked him, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

He said he had something to give me and held out a hand. I recognized a manuscript. “No, thank you,” I said. “You need to go.”

He took my hand and pressed the manuscript into it. I sighed. “You want this published?”

He nodded with eager smiles.

I repeated, “You need to leave. I’ll go with you and show you how to get this published.”

We went to his house. His family were waiting for his returned. They crowded back when I came in. Getting on his computer, I explained how to self-publish and the query process and how to submit to publishers and agents. He nodded, indicating that he understood.

I returned home. My wife asked where I’d been. Dinner was getting cold. Putting the tubing aside, I explained what had happened as I sat down to eat.

Dream end.

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Patches

A patch to wake up

A patch to fall sleep

A patch to help you pay attention

A patch to take a drink.

A patch to kill your dreams

A patch to keep you sane

A patch to make you eat

A patch to dull your brain.

A patch to calm your nerves

A patch to stay alive

A patch to keep you breathing

And then a patch to die.

4

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Sunshine skirts the trees and licks the sky into fresh blue shades. Familiars remind me that I’m home. People say, oh, you made it, as though the standing in lines and sitting in seats that frame commercial air travel in this era was a slog. The slog is behind the scenes, where they’re building and maintaining the machines and coordinating the actions. I’m just a passenger on that plane, just as I’m a passenger on starship Earth.

Sunrise in Ashland today came over us at 7:20 AM. Cool mountain air, measured at 54 F, put a shiver in my body. Gonna be 88 F, the weather wizards say. Smoky haze covered the valley from the Cedar Creek fire further west in the state. Not heavy smoke but enough for you to see it’s there, a reminder of the fire’s existence. Sunset, they tell me, will be 6:34 PM.

Being home is a comfort. Having my wife chatting about all she’s done and is doing and is to do brought me into the groove. Tucker and Papi did their feline duties, purring welcomes, permitting me to show my affections through liberal scratches of their ears, heads, and backs.

Traveling was the mix of fun, weariness, anticipation, and frustration that I’ve come to expect. Being in flight, taking off before sunrise and then having the sun chase us down over the Rocky Mountains delivered plenty of thought fodder. As you know, many sings exist about traveling, aircraft, flight, and sunrise. Plenty for The Neurons to say, oh, there’s a theme song and stick it in my mental music stream. But I found myself watching people, splitting time between clothes, shoes, body language, and faces. Out of watching faces, The Neurons pulled up “Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town” by Pearl Jam. A song released six million years ago or more, it tells of a woman struggling to remember another’s name, wishing to say hello, and failing. The Neurons were right to pick it up off of the organic reflections generated from my visit home, to places that were and now aren’t, and faces filling with aging’s shifts.

So here we are. Cats are fed, breakfast is eaten, coffee was brewed, its scent inhaled, its pleasant bitterness introduced to my tongue as another fresh experience. Stay pos and test neg, and do the vaccines needed to overcome and move on. I’m with you there.

Here’s the tune. Hope you can enjoy your Wednesday and build on it. Cheers

5

Saturday’s Theme Music

Slow and ponderous, daybreak took over the sky’s voluminous gray matter at 7:16 AM. This, I learn from the baffle net, is ten minutes earlier than they’ll see in Ashland, Oregon later today. 52 and 56, respectively, degrees in F, are the current and high temperatures. 7:03 sees the world turn that brings us another night.

Welcome to October 1, 2022.

It’s Saturday. Leaves are just turning in our neighborhood, with one mighty perennial going dark red. While the trees are heralding fall, animals and the weather are muttering, “Winter is coming.” Ned would be concerned, although meteorologists tell us they’re we’re seeing Ian’s stuff in our weather pattern. Overcast, they call this sky.

The Neurons dropped “Barely Breathing” into the morning mental music stream. Had to look it up to learn it’s by Duncan Sheik from 1996. I think the song employs many clever phrases. One set in mind this dawn was, “And everyone keeps asking, what’s it all about? I used to be so certain, and I can’t figure out.
What is this attraction, I can only feel the pain. There’s nothing left to reason and only you to blame.
Will it ever change?”

Why those words today, I queried The Neurons. Is it part of a memory set? Could well be, something of the air, imbued in the house, makes me think of other times and years, of course. Photos on the walls and shelves document the family’s expansion, and there we are as the young, when now we’re the old. It could be the chilly wet weather, and the dance of leaves falling off trees as they flirt with new colors. Maybe it’s just a natural echo of the mind set delivered when you realize, oh, I have aged. I used to be so certain. Now I wonder about more, and entertain reflections on paths taken and results found.

Think I need coffee.

Stay positive, test negative, and so on. Stay safe as you travel the roads and skies, stealing glances at weather, people, news. Where the heck is that coffee?

Here’s some music. Cheers

3

Saturday’s Theme Music

I witnessed sunrise in Pittsburgh, PA, from an Airbus window as it landed at Pittsburgh International Airport. Pittsburgh sunrise was at 6:56 and I was arriving at 6:32. 68 C in Pittsburgh then, just like home, but much more humid. Sunset came at 7:38. Back home, we hit 101 F but Pittsburgh’s weather delivered a friendlier 74 F.

Today is Saturday, September 10, 2022. Mom is doing much better, a steep relief. Still in the hospital but matters are getting under control, and she might be released in a week. Depends on what happens with the fluid in her heart and her pacemaker.

Back in my home zone. Left it in 1972 but have consistently returned to see Mom and the sisters. But man is my body’s personal clock running awry. Ate breakfast at the hospital at 8:30, visited with Mom and family until 11:30, back to Mom and a nap for two hours. Lunch at 4 PM, back to the hospital to visit with Mom and then home again at 6:30. Call to wife to update her, then unplanned crash until 8:30. Now here I sit, posting the theme music.

Employing their sense of humor, The Neurons cranked up Dr. John with “Right Place, Wrong Time” from 1973. Oh, ha, ha, ha, hilarious, you neurons. Interspersed with all that were two quite bizarre dreams.

So here is the music. You be positive and test negative. Wear a mask and have a good one. Coffee? Now? Really? No, I think it’s too late. I might go for a piece of that triple chocolate cake in the kitchen, though. Anyone up for some cake?

Cheers

1

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Wonderful fall day here today. Harvest moon last night. Clear sky to view it. Enjoying it all.

The weather systems have delivered gusting winds, clear skies, and a sweet balminess to Tuesday’s air. Today is September 21, 2021. We have reached autumn. Survived the year, mostly thanks to many others. Service people, yes, but I also owe some thanks to politicians, newspaper writers, novelists, librarians, farmers, police officers, firefighters, doctors, nurses, teachers, family, friends, beer brewers, bakers, chefs, truck drivers, pilots, transportation specialists, television engineers, producers, and personalities. It’s a long list of those keeping us safe and fed, managing our water, delivering things, and distracting, entertaining, and educating.

Today’s sunrise was at 6:57 AM in the valley. Sunset will come at 7:10 PM. Air quality is a delightful 4. Our high temperature today will be in the mid to upper eighties. Think 87 F. Current temperature is 73.

After another bevy of bodacious dreams, I find a 1978 Al Stewart song called “Time Passages” populating the morning mental music stream. These lyrics (with accompanying instruments) were on loop:

I felt the beat of my mind go
Drifting into time passages
Years go falling in the fading light
Time passages
Buy me a ticket on the last train home tonight

h/t to Songfacts.com

Can you go home again? I’ve gone ‘home’ to why Mom and Dad each separately live with their new partners, so I’m thinking, no. Not physically. In many ways, going home is a brief spiritual journey of nostalgia about what was when. In that sense, yes, going home is often a mind trip away. Going home to either of those places — where Dad/Mom live — highlights the changes between now and back then. Mom and Dad left each other and then I left them and roamed the world. Didn’t see enough, to be sure, but I came to grasp that home is a state of mind.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music, a mellow folk rock offering for a mellow day. Enjoy. Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

The daily cycle has commenced again. The beat goes on. Monday, Monday. Sunrise, sunset. Here we go again.

Hello! Welcome to Monday, August 23, 2021. Sunrise in Florence, Oregon, was at 6:29 AM in a clear pale blue sky, a sunrise of hope and optimism. Sunset will come at 8:08 PM. It’s 52 in Florence now but it will be 72 later today. Should be beautiful. But we’ll be on the road. Heading home. Ashland. Current temp there is 58. High is forecast to be 85. Air quality has improved, but it’s poor — 69. Still, it’s home for all that it implies, with its failing and securities, comforts and frustrations. Home. Such a four-letter word.

Unimaginatively, many home songs scale my brain. Home, sweet home, I’m on my way. Just set me free. Home, sweet home. And road songs. On the road again. Just can’t wait to get on the road again. But I’m also thinking, ain’t that a shame? Ain’t that a shame that I must leave this lovely place and ain’t that a shame that more people can’t live better lives? That we can’t find and sustain a better balance between nature and humanity’s endeavors? So I’m playing “Ain’t That A Shame” by Cheap Trick in the morning mental stream. I know Fats Domino was first with it. Great version. But I’m rocking today.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

The Crashing Dreams

What does a smoking motorcycle, a Mustang without brakes, and a double-decker tour bus have in common? Well, they were all part of my dreams last night.

In the first, I stepped out of my house and walked down the street. What’s striking for me is that this is my real house and street, where I’ve lived for the last fourteen years. My neighbor, who’s resided beside me that entire time, was on his motorcycle with his girlfriend. (Said neighbor typically has six to nine motorcycles in his garage.) This one was a gray bike with a sidecar (which he does not own). I paid little mind to them other than to wave, as they, talking and on the bike, passed, heading down the hill. But I heard her say, “It’s smoking.”

Watching, I agreed; the bike was smoking. I couldn’t tell where the smoke originated.

Backward, they came back up the street. I thought he wanted to say something and prepared to tell them that they motorcycle was smoking, but after passing me going up the hill backwards, they went down back down the street trailing growing plumes of gray smoke. As they reached the bottom, the motorcycle burst into flames. The then rode back up the hill toward me.

The dream ended.

In the next one, I was at home with a female friend. We were chatting as we sat on the sofa. I asked her if she wanted something to drink. I offered cranberry juice, beer, wine, and, of course, water. Before she answered, my wife came home.

Several people, including children, were with her. One man carried a complicated toy. As this all happened, a Ford Mustang appeared. An older model, it’s on golden jacks to hold it up. Parts are strewn around it. Someone says, it’s a project car.

I played with the complicated toy. A basketball-sized light grey sphere, it had multiple buttons. Pushing some caused wings and wheels to extend or retract. Pushing another caused videos to play in a small screen.

After playing with the sphere, I checked out the Mustang. Its wheels and tires had been removed. Despite that, I got in with intention of moving it forward a few feet, as it was blocking things. I did move it by releasing the parking brake, but then discovered it wouldn’t stop. With the guy yelling, “Stop, hit the brakes,” while running behind me, I gently came up to a stop against a square metal rod that was sticking up.

“Why didn’t you stop?” he wanted to know, catching up.

“This car has no brakes,” I answered. Though it was still on jacks (how the hell it rolled forward, I have no idea), I pointed out that the brakes had been removed.

Despite that, he insisted, “It has brakes,” though I kept pointing at the empty wheel wells and telling him, “No, it doesn’t, look.”

I finally walked away from him in exasperation. My female friend was standing close by. “Oh, my God, I forgot your drink,” I said. “What would you like?”

“I’m just leaving,” she replied.

I then realized the guy and the Mustang was gone. “Where’d they go?” I asked my wife. “He doesn’t have brakes. It’s not safe. We need to stop him.”

The dream ended.

Next, I’m driving on a narrow street through a town. Though it’s two lanes, it’s extremely narrow, crooked, and uneven. A white, older van tries to pass me. He swerves dangerously close as he does. I speed up. Ahead is a double-decker tour bus. I can’t believe it’s on these streets. It’s swaying back and forth, threatening to tip over to one side or the other.

I want to pass the bus. I can’t because the white van is in the other lane. The white van turns off but the road has narrowed to one lane. I can’t pass the bus now. As I feared, it wobbles hard right. Falling against a building, it crashes to a halt, blocking the road.

The bus is leaning against the building. I stop. First, I need to see if everyone is okay. Second, I want to get pass this bus and go on.

I enter the bus. I’m on the top level. I find that it’s actually three levels. I call out, “Is anyone hurt?”

Various replies come back. Many say, “No,” but some say, “We’re alright.” Others say, “Are we there yet,” and “We’re hungry. When are we going to eat.”

I explain that I’m just checking on them, I’m not part of the company, but someone will be coming along. Meanwhile, I work my way to the front of the bus and then down the steps. Once down, I exit the bus and leave.

End of dream.

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