A Chaos Dream

The dream began with great vibes. Returning home, I was being feted as a hero. I’d just slayed a monster, apparently about the fortieth time that I’d done so. Appreciation for me, and my fame, were growing.

First, there was a question of what to eat. A pot roast was being offered; “What would you like with it, Michael?” an elderly woman asked.

“Well, I like those little potatoes browned with them, along with pearl onions and carrots,” I told her. “That was how Mom made it, how I made it, and how my wife made it.” The word was passed, this is what he wants, this is what he likes.

An invitation came to join a military organization. “You’re a hero,” a woman recruiter told me. “We need heroes. You’re a leader. We need leaders.” My, I was flattered. Yes, I agreed, with little hesitation.

Other recruiters and their recruits arrived. I met recruits brought in by my recruiter. I made friends with one man. He was big as an NFL quarter back, and muscular, but very friendly and easy-going.

More recruiters and recruits arrived. Six groups were formed. After dressing in military green uniforms, we filed into a temporary trailer being used as an office space. There were way too many people in the trailer within short order. They were going to do the swearing-in ceremony here. Alright, I thought, let’s get this done. But then, they started trying to do it simultaneously in different corners, with everyone trying to speak above everyone else. The recruiters had also made name plates. They revealed that they’d ‘manufactured’ them by removing door and desk plates and writing on the back of those. The recruiters that this was funny in a sad, pathetic way.

Growing irritated, I was having second thoughts about joining. Who would want to join such chaos? Not me. But I also thought I could take charge and create order out of the chaos. So, I began making suggestions to improve. Why don’t the six groups do their ceremony one at a time? Give each group a number. Do it sequentially.

The recruiters close to me liked that idea, but it had to be communicated with the other recruiters across the room. I told them, “Just tell everyone to be quiet. Use your command voice.”

As that was agreed, a recruiter shouted for quiet. My big friend walked off, head and shoulders above the room. My recruiter came to me and asked if I was friends with him. Yes, I answered. “Did he use to be a football player?” she asked. Yes, I affirmed, he was.

She nodded. The dream ended.

Two Directions Dream

The dream upset me. First was one with the usual military overtones. Superintendent of a command post, fixing it up, blah, blah, blah. I experience so many dreams of that ilk.

It segued into a road trip dream. I was in one car, a red convertible, top up, with a friend. It was a shiny, impressive car. My wife was with a female friend and a coupe in another car. The friend and I in the red car were talking about where we were going, when we were getting there, when we should leave. We agreed, we were prepared to leave; let’s go.

The other car had been parked beside us. I got out to go speak with them and discovered them gone.

Shock surprise went through me. I returned to the car. “They left,” I told my friend.

“They left?” He was as incredulous as me. “Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know.”

I called my wife. After she said, “Hello,” I asked, “Where are you guys? Where’d you go?”

She laughed. “We went to go have a party.”

“A party?” I swallowed the phrase with amazement. “We’re due to leave. We’re supposed to on the road now, starting our journey. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you say something first?”

That’s where the dream ended.

A Facilitating Dream

The commander, a colonel, was walking in, talking on his cell as he came. I knew he was speaking with his wife. I overheard him: “Seidel? Yes, he’s here. He’s always here. He’s everywhere.”

A blush of pride bloomed in me in the dream. That was toward the end. It’d been another military dream, a chaotic one. Whereas most of my military dreams after my service ended has been about my chosen career field, command and control, or about traveling, this one was about facilitating. I’d spent the last three years of my career facilitating special project teams. This dream took off from there.

People were arriving for the session. I knew them and was prepared for them — or so I thought. Things started going wrong. Like Mom showed up. What was Mom doing there? I saw her but then she wasn’t there, so maybe I’d imagined her.

It threw me off my game. A squadon commander, black and and light colonel, arrived. I was pleased to see him, greeting him by name, showing him in, asking him if he’d like something to drink. Coffee, water, juice, tea? “Tea,” he agreed. Excellent, we have multiple kinds. What would you like? He selected (can’t remember what it was) and I went off to get it.

But I couldn’t immediately find the tea. Interruptions hampered the search. Sisters are arrived. I didn’t know what they were doing there. The phone kept ringing. Other team members were arriving. Someone knocked over one of the white boards. And the cookies weren’t put out.

I was scrambling, racing back to the light colonel to tell him that I’d not forgotten his tea, that it would be right out. He was taking it well, smiling and nodding, relatively unconcerned. I was also trying to be a good host with other arrivals and trying to corner one of my sisters to inquire about why she was there.

Someone suggested we play a game. They found something sort of roundish and suggested volleyball. Cheers met the suggestion. Although I first resisted because I had an agenda, I acquiesced. Be flexible, right? “Okay, why not,” I agreed.

We went out. There were five on one side and one, a female, on the other. They were going to play volleyball but there wasn’t a net. The lumpy thing being used as a volleyball turned into an actual volleyball. I told the one woman that I’d be her teammate. We’d take on the rest. Some volleying was done. I was told to serve. Everyone tensed because they thought I’d have a power serve but I kept missing the ball completely.

I finally served the ball and a volley ensued, then we lost the ball. Someone came up with some misshaped black thing, smaller than a volleyball, to use. I argued against it, demonstrating that I couldn’t even hit it right. Nobody else had yet tried. They all encouraged me to keep trying. I did, and suddenly began hitting it spectacularly well.

Others arrived so we quit playing. I hurried back to facilitate because some were up asking about the talking points posted to a white board. I rushed to explain. That’s when the commander arrived talking on the phone, and the dream ended.

Sunday’s Theme Music

“Here comes the rain again, falling on my head like a memory.”

If today is Sunday, this must be December 12, 2021. The temperature is standing by 41 degrees F, right between the day’s respective highs and lows of 37 and 45. Sunshine grayed by heavy clouds slithered in at 7:30 AM. Sunset will be at 4:39 PM. Yes, it’s raining again, which we welcome. Snow is hopefully falling in the Cascades and Sierra Nevadas. We need that snow for the snowpack to build up so we can endure the summer. It’s our water source. One hundred inches of snow are projected in some higher mountain elevations, so there’s a chance we’ll get a respectable start on the snowpack.

It seems like a good library day. I have two books on hold — Harlem Shuffle and Fortune Favors the Dead — and I’m returning three — Find You First, Crossroads, and War of the Wolf. I admit that I didn’t finish Crossroads. Its style is just too busy and involved for me at this time, too contrary to what I’m writing. I’ve learned that a balance between what I’m writing and reading is best for progress.

I’ve had several resident songs in the morning mental music stream. Most were about rain or dreams. But one dream portion featured an old friend. He and I were stationed together at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa for four years. We were almost best friends while there, certainly constant companions, arriving and departing at the same time, and yet, we have never seen or spoken to one another since. He went to Omaha, Nebraska, and I went to South Carolina.

Music was one of the things that brought us together. We shared musical tastes. One song that was out at the time was “Come on, Eileen” by Dexys Midnight Runners (1982). It was an unusual song in many ways, but the song’s lyrics reminded my buddy of trying to pick up girls when he was in a local rock band in high school. Their band wasn’t very good and then he was drafted, and off to the war in southeast Asia.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the jabs when you can. Here’s the music but I can’t find my coffee. It seems it’s wandered away again. Cheers

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Come aboard my friends to the show that never ends, the water’s rough but the music is fine. Tis Wednesday, November 10, 2021, a gray bannered day in this realm. Sun and blue are trying to break through but the mean ol’ clouds keep denying them time. The world’s spin brought the sun’s presence up at 6:55 AM and it’ll be spun away from us at 4:55 PM. Meanwhile, chill is the word for the air. 42 F now, 53 and rain in the near future hours. Grab some rain gear or be wet if you’re going walking.

Had a banging walk yesterday. Pushed myself further, harder, faster against a soft, gloomy wind and a tranquil gray and blue sky. Wound up sweat drenched. Always feels good to sweat like that, hear the muscles say, “Hello, what’s going on.”

A raft of dreams carried me through the night. Documented a few from that nocturnal journey. Left me on the bedside this AM, thinking, life is a riddle. My brain added, “I’m really stumped.” I then said, hmmm, and remembered those are lyrics from something. Wasn’t until ten, fifteen minutes, while in the can, that the lyrics were fit to a melody and group, emerging, self-assembled, as “Gotta Get Away” by The Offspring, 1995. That was the year of my military retirement, and the sentiment, gotta get away, was strong by the time I put my papers in. This was after turning down some assignments. One was plum, the other sucked, and the third was bizarre. Ergo, gotta get away.

Some lyrics reminder from the song:

I tell you, something just ain’t right
My head is on loose but my shoes are tight
Avoiding my friends ’cause they all bug
Life is like a riddle and I’m really stumped
If you reason, don’t you know
Your own preoccupation is where you’ll go
Being followed, I look around
It’s only my shadow creeping on the ground

h/t to AZLyrics.com

Stay positron, test negatron, wear a mask as needed to protect yourself and others, and get the vax and booster when you can for the same reasons. Here’s my coffee and the music. Cheers

A Sweet Dream Trilogy

I’m not going into details about dreams last night. I think, remembering so much, it would consume chunks of time and I have things planned that need time. So, in summary.

I dreamed first that I was with men in the military. It was not the U.S. military, but I don’t know what nation it was from. I was a young man, training the men how to build things. We were just finishing up, and it had been very success. I was basking in popularity. Young women came along. To help with celebrations for finishing, they set up a small store. The white store was decorated in purple and pink with heavy glitter, amusing me. They were giving out candy that was in buckets. A place beside them was grilling food. Everyone, including me, was eating, and having a good time.

Then, dream change, I was with a group of women. Again, I was a young man. We were out in a meadow surrounded by lush, heavy forests. It was a small group. The women were variously dressed in white, purple, or yellow gowns. I’m not certain what I wore. I think I may have been wearing orange. I was teaching the women. We were just finishing when a flock of birds flew overhead, seizing our attention. I said to them, “That’s a fitting ending.”

The third was briefest, where I, once again, a young man, was in a little classroom in a small, old schoolhouse, teaching young children. The schoolhouse was white. We were sitting on the wooden floor. I was talking to them, telling them stories, and they were laughing and cheering in response.

Remembering the dreams invigorates me and makes me smile. All were so sweet and affirming, even if it doesn’t come off that way in my brief captures. If only all dreams left such a positive impact when we awaken and take on the day.

Another Lost Dream

Here I go again. I’m in a military service but it’s again not the USAF in which I served twenty years. Some other dream-imagined service. I was enlisted as in my USAF but very senior. Wherever I went, my rank brought me respect, honor, and VIP treatment. I was a happy camper.

I’d been away. Now I was returning to my base. My base was a huge indoor structure. Civilians lived there as well as military. The structure also housed schools, a mall, shopping, and a train system with several stations.

Arriving back, I’m informed that they changed my rooms. Sorry, but they moved everything for me. My new room number was 316. Oh, no problem, thanks, I’ll go there. I went to where I had been housed, expecting my new room to be part of that area. Wrong; that room wasn’t there. After some fiddling and walking about, I was able to contact the housing officer. Oh, sorry for the mix-up, I’m told, that’s 316 but it’s in another area. Someone is sent to lead me over there.

This is a dream, so this young kid is immediately there. White, lanky, short blonde hair, doesn’t look like he’s ever shaved. He’s in awe of my rank, which actually makes it hard to deal with him. I joke with him to put him at ease as we walk around. We arrive at the correct area. I go to room 316. My stuff isn’t there. Two other, lower-ranked people are there. My assigned handler is appalled; the two in ‘my’ room are alarmed. I want to know where my stuff is. I’m angry at this point. I’ve been traveling; I’ve been moved without prior notice; my stuff is gone; no one seems to know where it is.

I’m given the names of the people who moved me so I can get answers. They’re students in college. Zip, in dream-fashion, I’m in the school part of the structure. Children of all ages are running around from class to class, level to level — there a number of stairs and levels, all under a huge glass dome where sunshine streams in. We walk around, looking for the college section, following signs and directions from people stopping to help us. I learn the three who moved me on are another moving job. My handler and I jump on the train. We’re transported to the mall section. It teems with shoppers. There’s a growers’ market underway as well. All this complicates my search efforts.

At last they’re found. They insist they put my stuff in room 316 in the cited area. My anger grows: I was there and my stuff wasn’t there. The five of us now — three movers, my handler, and me — all round a corner; we’re right back in the housing area where I’m supposed to reside. The two people in room 316 are confronted. Oh, they moved my stuff. Someone gave them permission because I wasn’t there so they thought it would be okay, and this room is much nicer than their assigned room.

The handler takes over as I steam. Arrangements are made to get them out of my room and get my stuff back into it.

Dream end.

Another Dream of Frustration

Yes, another dream about communications. Being in the military. And technology. Except it wasn’t the US military. Wasn’t the Air Force. I was part of a different military organization. Black or very dark blue — couldn’t tell in the dream — one piece uniforms. Like coveralls. Belted. Black boots. Caps. Insignia that was made up of diamonds and stars in silver and gold on epaulets.

Some disaster was eminent. Tidal waves, storms, and flooding. Another guy and I were trying to organize stuff. He outranked me but I was asserting my ideas. It had to do with displays. What should we put on the displays? What would be most useful? A tech informed us that we could have more than one display up concurrently. How many were the max? Four. Then let’s put four up.

A vision came to me about what we could do. I became animated with the idea. Was trying to explain and sell it to the rest, especially the man in charge. My exasperation expanded. How could he not see and understand this, blah, blah? I slowed down. Became patient. He began to grasp the plan. But whereas I wanted to display information about the weather, our readiness, etc., he countered, “Let’s put information about eggs up there.”

Eggs. I was taken so far back. “Why would you put eggs up there?”

“So that everyone knows how many eggs we have,” the man in charge replied.

“Why would anyone care about eggs? We’re a military organization. There’s a storm due to hit at any minute. Why would we put information about eggs up?”

But he was insistent. The dream ended with me turning away and walking off, shaking my head.

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Good morning, fellow travelers. Our vehicles — body, planet — still appearing to be functioning or we probably wouldn’t be here, me typing this, you, reading it later. Or should we propose some Twilight Zone inspired theories about who we are, where we’re at, and what’s really going on?

Today, ‘they’ claim that it’s Wednesday, September 8, 2021. Smoky, again, in my area. Sunshine came red and dull through the haze at about 6:43 AM. It was a dark and gloomy sunset last night. Dark by 7:30 PM. Sunset today will come at 7:33 PM. Hope we can see the sunset for the smoke.

AQI is currently at 112, so it’s improved but still unhealthy. Present temperature is 64. Autumn is coming, bringing a high of 87 F to us here in the valley. Leaves are turning yellow on a few trees. The shimmering maples are beginning to do their thing, too.

I’m with Queen this morning. Another blogger sang “Some bunny to love,” on an Instragram post. Oh, terrible. But the song stuck to me like peanut butter on a spoon. I finally countered with “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen (1979). I so vividly recall when this came out and I heard it for the first time. Was at work. Then in the Air Force. Stationed at Randolph AFB, Universal City, just outside of San Antonio, Texas. Worked in the command post. It was by far the most unusual command post in my career. For one thing, we had windows. No other command post I worked in ever had windows. Windows are vulnerabilities that reduce security, you know. Also, this command post was on the first floor of the Taj Mahal, just left of the front entrance. Here’s a photo of that building.

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

Thursday’s Theme Music

Thursday, June 24, 2021, found the sun’s first fiery fingers combing through the valley at 5:36 AM, silencing the night life, stirring the more noisy, numerous day life. With more thunderstorms yesterday and some meager sprinkles, temperatures fell again. Sol is expected to lift the temperatures back into the low to mid-nineties in our region. Right now, it’s 78 F and mildly humid. Sunset is expected at 8:51 PM.

We have a vacation planned for next month. Our vacations generally rank well with us in experience, and hold up well with memory. Most memorable are the ones that go wrong. Like, for instance, that time that we were living on Okinawa. We took space available seats — Space A is the lingo — on a military aircraft to Hawaii. Had a wonderful time. Space A took us south to Guam on a C141. Dark as hell in there. Seats bolted to the floor, facing cargo pallets and an engine. Box lunches — chicken, sandwiches, candy bars — sustained us. We landed at Midway. The base commander opened the small exchange and showed us around.

Meanwhile, a typhoon (as we called them then — this was in 1983) was churning around the Pacific. We made it to Clark AB in the Philippines (now gone) only to be hurried north. We were trying for our home base of Kadena on Okinawa, but the typhoon’s plans interfered. We ended up in Yokota Air Base, Japan, where the typhoon hunted us down, forcing us to shelter in place. Finally, the storm reversed direction and swung south, freeing us to head home, ending a ten day adventure. Not quite National Lampoon’s Vacation, but a lot of fun. And memorable.

So today’s music is “Vacation” by the Go-Go’s (1982). Test negative, stay positive, wear a mask, and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

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