Tag: knowledge

Two Dreams

I remember two dreams from last night but only snippets from a third. Here’s what I recall about the two.

First, there was a writing dream. A young man again, I was in my early twenties.

I love how my dreams often make me younger. *smile*

I was sitting with my wife at a low, light gray counter. She was on my right. To my left was a young girl, white with long brown hair. I think she was about 12. Nobody I knew.

In front of me on the counter was a yellow legal pad. A male voice outside of my dream frame was suggesting that I write a book about writing fiction.

I was laughing and denigrating the idea. “I’ve had a couple short stories published, and I self-published a few books,” I rebutted. “That’s not really a good position as someone giving writing advice.”

But as I was talking, I was scribbling ideas on the yellow pad. Using a red pen, I wrote down four columns.

My wife said, “I think you should.”

And the out of dream voice said, “The girl will type it up for you.”

And the girl was saying, “I’m bored. Is there anything for me to type?”

That all made me laugh harder. On the yellow pad, I jotted down ideas in the four columns as I laughed.

Dream end

The Race Dream

I was in some coastal area with my wife and some friends. (The friends weren’t anyone from real life.)

A storm was coming in from the ocean, building up. The winds were growing higher, and the surf was rising and becoming more violent.

But a race was being held in the water. I don’t know what distance was involved but people could parasail, surf, bicycle, swim, or run to win. The race would go along the coastline.

I had a friend there with a saddled brown horse (with a black mane and tail) and several young children. The friend BTW looked like a young Viggo Mortensen. The children were begging him to enter the race. He was uncertain but they talked him into it. So he climbed into the saddle. After pulling the two children up onto the saddle with him, he urged the horse forward to join the race.

I watched, amused and also wondering, “Is that safe?” I saw that the surf was much worse than I thought it was. I was considering how he would do this, envisioning the horse galloping sometimes through waves breaking on the shore, but mostly urging the horse along on the firm, wet sound just above the water line.

I heard people mocking my friend, “Oh, look, here’s another one who doesn’t know how to surf.”

The starting gun went off and the race began. I watched as the racers went south, through the crashing waves, as sunlight broke through thinning gray storm clouds.

Knowing the race would be away, I went to the house where we were staying. This was actually a large, lovely terra cotta mansion. I was standing out there, having drinks with friends and my wife. It was a small group. Two of the friends were from my childhood, and two were adult friends.

One childhood friend asked, “Why did they call you the professor when you were young.”

I laughed it off. “Probably because I read a lot and had to wear glasses.”

My wife said, “No, it was because you were smart.”

My other childhood friend said it was because I always got good grades.

As we were talking, I noticed a blonde teenage girl standing off to one side, listening. I realized that she was going to back and tell her friends about this conversation.

Turning, and shifting angles, I found a view of the ocean. The race was still going on. I saw about forty competitors and thought I spotted my friend on horseback but wasn’t sure.

Dream end

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The Aircraft Learning Dream

I was traveling again, a younger person but adult. With many others, all strangers. Most of them were traveling in groups.

I was traveling light, with just a few things. It was cold, kind of dark, as we headed from one classroom to our next one: a jet aircraft.

The jet was spacious and well-lit, with many halls, classrooms, and lounging areas. People rushed around, hurrying to get to preferred spots. As the jet took off, I wandered around, looking for a place to sit. As I did, I would think, oh, no, I forgot something – book – which was green — phone, laptop. But then an insight would come: no, I didn’t bring it, or no, there it is, over there.

Almost all the other travelers were females. They seemed younger than me. Classes and their locations were announced. I tried to get there but found I was too late: the class was always full.

Meanwhile, people left things on their seats to save them, so I couldn’t use their seats while they were in class.

Becoming very dejected, I passed a man in the hall who asked, “Do you need a seat?”

“I do,” I replied.

“Come on,” he said with a gesture, turning away. “I can find something for you on the flight deck.”

We got up there. He explained to the crew up there what was going on. Another crew member said, “We have no problem with letting him sit up here but we just gave the seats away to others, right before you arrived.”

They all apologized and I headed away, looking to see, do I have my phone? My green book? Laptop? As I confirmed, yes, I had those things, they announced the flight was due to land soon.

Dream end.

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The Discussion

Four women were chatting at a nearby table at the coffee shop. Appearing similar in age to me, two women dominated the talking. One was short and slender, with fair skin and dark, bobbed hair. The other was tanner and smaller. Smiling a lot, her silver hair fell around her shoulders.

They were talking about toothpaste. Looking up from my writing, I tuned in as the first woman said, “I put a pea-sized amount on my brush.”

One of the other women, heavy, with dry brown hair that came to her shoulders, loudly, sharply scoffed. “That’s not enough.”

The first woman replied, “That’s what the directions say to use.”

The brown-haired woman snorted. “Everyone knows you’re supposed to put toothpaste on all the bristles, from one end to the other.”

The conversation fell still for several seconds. “Anyway,” the first woman resumed.

I returned to my writing.  

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A Complex Dream of Instructions and Help

It was a complex dream, shifting as ocean waves with a brisk wind. As I thought about it, I distilled it into these general scenes, but it wasn’t quite this linear.

Younger, I was sometimes in the military, sometimes in some other work, seamlessly moving from one to the other from scene to scene. Most of the background was dark, but as if I was in office buildings.

At one point, a guy came by and gave me a silver computer. “Your instructions are on here,” he said. I nodded, understanding, ready to go to work, confident about how to proceed.

Opening the laptop, I brought up the guidance and sat back in surprise. These instructions were different. No worries; I’d figure it out. Probably just take longer.

I was called into another area. It was a small space, and dark. In there were two high-ranking Air Force general officers, small but slender and fit. I wasn’t there to see them. Passing behind the higher ranking one, I heard him describing someone.

I said without thinking, “Oh, you’re talking about – “

I stopped myself from finishing the sentence because I felt I’d overstepped. Then I apologized.  

The general gave me a sharp look and then nodded once. “You’re right. Good job.”

Leaving there, I went back to my dark office space and reclaimed my seat, reading to resume my work. Two other people came by. They’d received their instructions but weren’t sure how to do it.

Laughing, I gave them some insights about how to proceed. We chatted for a few more seconds before they left and I resumed work, pleased about what I was doing.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music — Enduring

Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, April 28, 2026.

Spring endures in Ashland. 48, blue skies, clouds, sunshine, high in the mid-sixties expected.

Mom endures in her assisted living facility. My sister couldn’t do the things she enumerated yesterday. Mom remains in the assisted living facility and seems agreeable to selling her house. However, she’s trying to manipulate us in other ways, according to my sister. She said Mom wrote a long text that she wanted sis to share with all of us. My sister refused. Life.

My plumbing endures. Mixed results with the plumber yesterday. Both shutoff valves replaced at the toilets, but the plumber felt only one had a leaking wax seal. When he pulled it, lo, the wood under it was soaked. So, wax ring replaced, toilet put back, but now we need to send someone under the house to examine that area. I’ve been under the house; not fun. We have a low, low crawlspace. But I don’t have the expertise needed for this kind of assessment. Thought about using different cameras to see what it looks like. Still noodling that.

Trump endures, too. It is remarkable but many speculate that Trump staged the attempt on him. While Trump blames ‘the left’, he continues to incite hatred and violence toward others while asking that we be nicer to him.

Part of this is that Trump is a documented liar and cheat. He wants to be feared, liked, respected, admired. As part of his ‘weave’, he’ll say anything but that’s shredded his credibility. We know now he makes grandiose promises and bizarre accusations and declarations; it’s all just air.

Doesn’t help, neither, that within hours of the attempt, Trump was calling to build his White House ballroom because, “Security!” But the WHCD was not in the White House. Even if the ballroom had been done, it wouldn’t have affected what happened at the WHCD.

I will also say that even if Cole Tomas Allen left behind a ‘manifesto’ and seems to have a life, Hollywood has convinced me that creating a legend like that is very possible. While I don’t particularly believe the Trump administration is sanguine enough to get it done, there are some high-tech security firms in his corner who could do it. If I believe Hollywood, so could the CIA.

Why not? It’s the age of deep fakes and AI.

With Trump not being held accountable for his lies and behavior, it’ll probably because worse as others attempt to emulate and duplicate his success as a con artist. More troubling is how his actions undermine our trust and belief in authority.

Meanwhile, the squeeze is on U.S. farmers. They’re in a bad situation: diesel is up, fertilizer is up, interest rates are up, available migrant labor is down, and droughts are in the forecast.

Perhaps they will reconsider who they vote for in November.

Your Trump quote of the day:

“Data from the USDA show that soybean exports to China, as of March 19, are about half the amount they were last year.” 

Reminder: we’re into the eighth week of the Trump Iran War. He has no exit plan.

Reminder: the Epstein files have not been completely released.

Reminder: Trump’s popularity is declining and prices are rising.

Expect some new Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! breaking news soon.

“Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)” ended up in my morning mental music stream. So many bricks being put into place between what we were, what we could become. Trump builds walls to divide and separate, keep the poor in misery and empower the wealthy, along with walls against equality, freedom, science, and education.

Hope you end up in the best possible place when this day is finished. Onward.

Cheers

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“Come From Away”

My wife and I had a mini-staycation yesterday. First we went to the matinee performance of a play, “Come From Away”. Dinner out at a Mexican restaurant followed.

  • The Oregon Shakespeare Festival staged the play. A musical, the book is based on the 9/11 attacks and Gander, Newfoundland, Canada, when 39 aircraft and almost 7,000 people were diverted to the island after US and Canadian airspace was closed after the terrorist attacks.
  • The play was energetic and uplifting. Production values and performances were superb. Afterward, we thought, it must have physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. Each actor played several rolls. They often picked up and carried chairs with them, representing their carry-on bags. Chairs and tables were re-arranged to be council meetings, diners, air-traffic control towers, buses, and aircraft.
  • Gander was only a place of 9,000 itself, but with one of the largest airfields in the world. That airfield had been built during the early days of transatlantic travel, when a final fuel top off was needed to cross the ocean. Aircraft landed there coming and going from Europe.
  • The people of Gander were powerfully represented as caring and giving. Differences were set aside to come together to help all these travelers cope with trying circumstances. Passengers had no idea what had happened for hours. Those who spoke little English, who came from places where martial law ruled, were terrified when soldiers arrived and began ordering them off the aircraft and onto buses.
  • One person took it upon herself to find the animals in the aircraft and ensure they had food, water, medicine, and care. There was a lot of singing, dancing, and explanation, along with a new romance, and the end of an old one.
  • Most interesting, high school students also attended. Many of them were confused about what was going on. While those of us born well before 9/11 were transfixed by history and our own memories, these young people were frequently baffled. History was explained to them after the play was over.

Last, most compelling, was the juxtaposition of the times. Here we are, so very polarized by the American president, Donald Trump, and his policies. Establishing guidelines that cuts the legs off of empathy and sympathy, giving speeches which demeans anyone who isn’t American, indeed, anyone who doesn’t support him, there we were, watching people coming together to help one another. It is especially poignant now, as Trump trashes Canada again and again, while declaring himself the ‘unity president’.

Watching the play was a very, very powerful experience. I highly recommend seeing it, if you ever have the chance.

It will remind you of what we can be.

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Fascinating Dream: Aliens

It was a fascinating dream for me. When I awoke from it, I thought, I’d been watching a television show or movie. With a bit of surprise, I then realized I’d been in the dream, along with my wife and two children, which were my offspring. But I was both involved by watching as a minor character and sort of injected into some scenes.

My wife and children and I were tourists processing through some station. Aliens were there; sort of Klingon-like, in light grey blue uniforms with a jacket which has a deep red collar and a matching red shirt under it.

While traveling, all of us are stopped by these others who basically want to enslave us. It’s a troubling scene. I’m passive with my wife, not sure what will happen to us verses the others because we’re human and are supposed to have a different status. Nonetheless, we’re detained with the rest.

There’s then a scene where our captor and one of the captives go back and forth about what’s go be done in this cave where we’re being held. I realize that they’re having a disagreement over a matter of reference and perspective.

The captor keeps saying, ‘to your right’, and the other keeps saying, ‘that doesn’t make sense’. I then try to clarify that the captor is talking about the direction from the way he’s facing, while the captive is facing the opposite direction.

I end up getting up and pointing this out on a diagram they have posted on an easel.

We then ‘watch’ as captives are taken to another place to mine stuff. I don’t know what they’re mining. They make a show of it. I then suddenly realize that they’re secretly mining knowledge.

When the captive of before decides they’d learned enough, he reveals that he has a weapon. Shaped like an obelisk – really, just like a foot tall reproduction of the Washington monument, but shiny, silver-gold – the captive holds it up. Pressing a button, he sends a signal.

Suddenly, all these other dead, sleeping, and collapsed aliens awaken and rise. Each of them are equipped with a like obelisk. Using these, they overpower their captors.

As my wife and I watch, we realize that the revolution has begun.

Dream end.

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