The CIA Dream

I was working in marketing again, as I had for several years in real life. I was about the same age as well, early 40s, after retiring from the military.

Just returning from a long trade show, I went to my office and opened my cabinets to put things away. There I found that someone had been delivering food to me! Much of it were three by three inch cubes with Kanji on them. The wrappers were white, with either a red, green, or blue.

They totally mystified me. I questioned others, where did the food come from? Who brought them? No one could say.

I figured out through examination that the colors on the cubes represented fish, beef, or dairy. That amused me but needing my space, I began clearing them out.

Next I found bags of candy. Like WTF? Then cans of soup and containers of melted ice cream.

I couldn’t believe it. Why would someone put that in my cabinet?

A female co-worker came by and explained that the same thing had happened to her. It was part of some lunch program. We didn’t go in to get our food, so they delivered them to us. We weren’t there, so they put them away for us.

“But ice cream?” I protested. “That doesn’t make sense. Also, how much food do they think I need? There must be weeks worth.”

I was amused more than I was angry.

While I was cleaning, basically trying to do with this food, I kept getting summoned to meetings or interrupted by people coming by.

Two of the people who came by were CIA agents. Or so they said.

Male, dressed in suits, with ties. They wanted a favor.

Something was being installed. It was down on the ground floor, outside. They gave me a red and white placard. A white 5 was in the middle.

“Just put this on the cover of what they make. That’s all you need to do.”

Sure. Why not? Made no sense but did I care? Not really. I was too busy with other things to wonder about this strange venture.

Resuming my cleaning, I was almost done when two more men – white, in suits – stopped by. They identified themselves as part of the CIA. These two wore sunglasses.

I wondered, is this a joke?

One explained, “There is new construction being completed downstairs.”

The other held up a white thing. Basically resembled a white tent peg. “We want you to put this about a foot behind the construction, about a foot to the right. That’s all you need to do. We’ll do the rest.”

I repeated all that because it made no sense.

Then I asked, why are you asking me to do this?

“We’ve seen your records,” the first said, as if that explained everything.

I figured he meant my military records, and all those security clearances, and just accepted it.

Later, I did what the two pairs of agents asked. Privately, kind of secretly, ensuring no one was around to witness it.

Then I laughed as I walked away.

Dream end.

Tuesday Theme Music – Imaginary

Ashland, Oregon – Tuesday, March 24, 2026.

It’s warming today but not like much of the continental United States. Currently 68 F, our 75 F high will give us a comfortably warm day.

My wife purchased this little art piece for the house. It’s perfect for us, as we both enjoy reading, and I also write. I enjoy the little reader statue so much, I thought I would share.

My life is otherwise auto-pilot quiet as we go through routine tasks and await news or results.

As I often do, I began reading the news today and ended up struck with some ideas which evolved into a small piece about Trump world. I split it off.

Meanwhile, the basic theme stayed with me: imaginary. Much of Trump’s existence is based on false ideas, misconstrued history, and things which he imagines. My Neurons sensed the direction and introduced “Imaginary Lover” by ARS into my morning mental music stream.

It fits, though: “Imaginary lovers never turn you down.” That’s Trump and his base all the way; they never turn him down.

Also, despite all the files being suppressed and the history that shows Trump was friends with Epstein, Trump is trying to insist that’s not true. He’s trying to tell us that we imagine his relationship with Epstein.

I chuckled when I heard the song in my head. How many of Trump’s base imagine him as their lover?

I hope your day is comfortable, safe, and leaning toward optimistic outcomes.

Cheers

The Writing Moment

I was sitting on the porcelain can taking care of needed business but also reading S.A. Cosby because I like multi-tasking when a new aspect of the novel in process came in. Had nohing to do with what I was reading; my novels don’t run in the same genre as Cosby’s offerings.

But Cosby offers sharp, fresh writing and twisty plots. It awakens and stimulates the Writing Neurons. They come out and start playing. And suddenly the tale I’m working on has a new facet to be introduced. It emerged from one sentence, one word, really. And I said to myself, that’s something I should put into that scene I wrote yesterday. Then, bing, the rest flowered fast.

Such fun.

The Puzzle Dream

I thought of this as the puzzle dream but it could also be the cookie cutter dream, or the surprise flying dream.

Started, I was younger, in my early twenties, outside, part of a huge crowd of people, all about my age. They were passing out these white pieces that looked like plastic cookie cutters to me. Looking at it, I’m like, “What am I supposed to do with this?” No one close to me had any answers. Like me, they were regarding their piece with confusion.

But playing around with it, because that’s my nature, I discovered that I could make two pieces just by tugging on a side. That caused a new one to slide out while the original’s mass and structure didn’t change. Others were finding this, too. I wanted to know how many one piece could yield and soon found I had ten pieces. What the heck was I to do with them, though?

I thought the pieces were hard but since I could pull one piece out of another, I wondered if they were malleable, so I started twisted them and found, yeah, they were malleable. I could make them bigger or smaller. Someone else suggested, “Try putting them together.” I didn’t see a way at first but kept working it. Suddenly, I found that if I put two pieces edge to edge and then squeezed hard on the joined edge, they’d be one.

I rapidly began making more pieces, putting pieces together, and shaping them into something big. I had no idea what I was making. The shapes just pleased and interested me. What was boring was the color: these were all white, like, bright, refrigerator white. So tedious. I wanted to make them into another color.

A nearby female said something similar and then others spoke up, agreeing. Then a young man kind of gasped and said, “Look!” He’d changed a piece into red. We all asked, “How’d you do that?” He answered, “I don’t know.”

I started looking at mine and thinking as the others still questioned him. Holding a piece, I thought, blue, and it was immediately blue. The female who’d first mentioned the colors did the same, and we started talking about it. Then she and I and two other guys started putting pieces together from different sides, creating a four-sided thing together.

I wanted it bigger. Pulling my pieces back apart and explaining that to the rest, I asked some others to join us. We soon had a group putting pieces together on several sides, creating something big. Someone asked, “What is it?” My first thought was, “It’s a building.” Someone else said that, and another replied, “It’s a building that’s a city.”

Then I said, “No, it’s a spaceship.” I told them, “It’s a multi-generational spaceship so that we can live in space and travel to other parts of the universe.” Questions about it were asked of me and I answered, developing a greater vision of it as I did. People protested that it’s not big enough. I answered, “This is a model so that we can build the real thing after we figure it out.”

Then a man came by and told us, “Stay playing with the blocks.”

First, I didn’t think of them as blocks.

He continued, “Take this. I want you to learn out to use them.”

“Use them for what?” a woman asked.

“To fly,” the man answered.

The things he was passing out while talking were like plastic white shoelaces about ten inches long. Four of them were attached on one flat end so the strings were parallel to one another. I, like others, was skeptical. “We’re going to fly with these?”

“Yes. Twirl them over your head.” The man held up white streamer and twirled it over his head. “Just do it like that.”

I laughed, completely disbelieving of him. While others questioned him, “You twirled it and you’re not flying,” I twirled mine. They were more difficult to twirl than I expected. I kept changing my grip and trying different speeds. Suddenly I took off. As soon as I did, I stopped twirling, surprised by success, and dropped back to the ground. Others had seen and rushed over, demanding, “How did you do that?”

Dream end.

Wednesday’s Wandering Whimsies

Do you ever imagine that invisibile beings surround you, watching what you’re doing when you’re in your home alone, commenting on it to each other?

They seem to come in three flavors: aliens from space, time travelers from the future, and deceased individuals — especially family — returned as spirits. What they say and how they watch varies, depending upon which group they’re in, and their intentions.

So, for example, aliens crowd around you in the kitchen as you clean up, remarking upon the cultural significance of your routine, applauding your efficiency (or lack of it), comparing it to their own processes and habits.

No? You never have this happen?

Yeah, neither do I.

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