Two Dreams about People

In the first dream, I was a younger adult, working somewhere that wasn’t clearly defined. I seemed happy and was busy working when a trio – two men and a woman – arrived.

The woman started chatting to me. I didn’t even realize she was with the men. Then the men approached. One mentioned something about Major Malasky.

I whirled with surprise. The men were short, white, with trim hair. Clean shaves, they were dark gray suits, white shirts with dark, narrow ties, and dark gray fedoras. Like G men.

“I knew a Major Ray Malasky,” I said. “We worked together. He was a navigator. 7405th in Germany. We were a covert unit.” I chuckled, knowing, yes, the program had been declassified but still uncomfortable talking about it. “Ray was a good guy.”

I looked around for mementos from that assignment. I’d just been showing them with the woman, I realized – and they were gone. Surprised, I leaped to the conclusion that she had taken them and began searching for her. As I did, the two men excused themselves and left. Going to a window, I saw them meet her. The three hurried away, leaving me astonished.

In the next dream, I was walking along a street on a sidewalk. It was a sunny, pleasant day. A bright red car was ahead. This was boxy shaped like the Kia Soul or the Honda Element, but it was bright, shiny red with small wheels. It also had a round window on the driver’s door.

The window was pivoted open. As I walked towards it, I saw that someone was inside the car. They reached up and closed the round driver’s window. I then saw it was one of my real-life current neighbors, Neil. Seeing me, he opened the window but stayed reclined, though he did nod at me.

I nodded back. I had the impression he was resting and wondered why he was resting in his car. I figured that Neil must have a reason for being out of his house. Maybe his house was being worked on. Painted. Or they were fumigating it. Who knows?

I accepted that there was a reason for him to be resting in his car and walked on.

WTF America, Homeland Security Ed.

We’ve been enjoying (yes, snark) so many WTF America out of the Trusk Regime. But here’s another to be shared.

Abrego Garcia’s Wife Forced To Move To Safe House After Homeland Security Shares Her Address On Social Media

Jennifer Vasquez Sura, the wife of wrongly-deported Maryland dad Kilmar Abrego Garcia, spoke out after the Department of Homeland Security posted her address on X.

The Trusk Regime is such an abomination. They care not at all about the Constitution, due process, history, tradition, or people’s safety and privacy, including children.

Absolutely disgusting. Again.

Just Sayin’

It’s nobody’s business, including J.D. Fucking Vance, if my wife and I have children, and why or why not. Talk about intrusive government. Talk about petty. What a jackass. There are serious problems in the world, and this is what he thinks about?

Give me a fucking break.

Tit for Cat

I sat down on the toilet to do my morning thing. Instantly one of the three household cats graced me with his attention. One always does. Should I get in there and close the door before one arrives, a pitiful protest begins outside the door.

Boo wound himself back and forth against my legs while purring, meowing, and tossing glances at me. I said, “Will I never be allowed to do my business at home without one of you helping me? It’s irritating sometimes, you know. How would you like it if I petted you while you were in the litter box doing your business?”

I swear that his purr when up twenty decibels.

The Collusion of Confusion Dream

It was such a muddle, with an interesting cast of my wife and her family, including her late parents. One of her brothers-in-law were present, and a niece and nephew. Three dream aspects were most prominent.

  1. The dream took place in a huge rambling home cluttered with junk.
  2. I wanted to use the toilet but the filth, clutter, and lack of privacy prevented me.
  3. My deceased father-in-law made a startling confession.

Other things that were included is that it was on a place called the property (which was weedy and brown, with a few green bushes), and a young naked man had a cameo appearance, along with car salesmen, and a seven-year-old brat.

I’m in the middle of this, of course, but that’s the dream’s essence. I was in the middle of everything, and sought privacy to use a toilet. This house, never seen before in life, was an old place, circa 1940s, painted pale yellow and brown, with multiple floors. While I don’t recognize it, a tenet of the dream was that I was returning to the house to check its condition. My sister-in-law and her hubby were supposed to be taking care of it, but it was a disaster. They obliviously cackled and laughed when it was mentioned to them.

The house was well-lit with sunlight coming through multiple windows. Trying to get through the rooms was like walking in a junk yard. Old furniture, books, catalogs, tools, and appliances cluttered every available space, including the bathrooms and commodes.

My wife’s parents, sisters, brother-in-law, and I tiptoed about, looking and talking. We tiptoed because it was hard to get around things. We all appeared to be in our forties, including my wife’s parents. After some time, I needed to use a toilet. Finding the bottom floors useless, I went upstairs. Everyone followed me. I figured that if I could find a reasonably clean commode, I’d tidy it and use that. I found a bucket of water to help me flush. I considered using the bucket for my toilet if I couldn’t find one that would do the job.

The problem was, everyone kept following me. I couldn’t get the desired privacy.  As several simultaneous conversations went on, mostly about buying cars, and mostly about buying a BMW, I went up another flight, and perhaps one more, to the top floor. It was just as cluttered as the rest. A young naked white man and young woman (white, with brown hair, dressed in blue) were on the top floor. Appearing about twenty years old, they were strangers. I didn’t care; I only wanted a toilet.

Not to be. It was now, too, that the seven-year-old brat appeared. I have no idea who this white, bespectacled child was, but he was more of a nuisance than the rest.

My father-in-law, hands in pocket, made his confession. He said, roughly, “You need to be careful, or you’ll be swindled. I know, because it happened to me.” It was longer than that but that’s the gist. His confession embarrassed him, and we were struck by his honesty. After making his speech, he walked away, going back down the stairs. The naked man said, “That took a lot for him to say. If I were you, I’d never talk about it to anyone, out of respect for him.” We all agreed that was the case even as I wondered, who the hell is this guy? I questioned him, and he didn’t know my father-in-law. The young woman acted like a cheerleader for the man, laughing at everything he said. I wanted to know why they were there. Without giving reasons, he and the young woman left.

I resumed my toilet search. Finally locating one that might do, except it had only half walls, I told everyone, “You need to leave so I can use the toilet.” Some joking was made of this. My wife and the seven-year-old didn’t go, though. The child thought it was funny to pester me.

I grabbed him by the throat and told him, “I’m serious. If you don’t leave, I’ll kill you.”

He left.

My wife came in. I told her what I’d done. She thought it humorous but I was troubled. I asked her to leave so I could use the toilet. She told me that she wanted to use it after I finished, and urged me to hurry. She would stand outside the room with her back to it and keep everyone back so I’d have “privacy”.

Experimentally flushing the toilet, I found it worked. It flushed all manner of red, yellow, white, green, and blue beads and pebbles away. But the water, which was clear, kept running. I worried the toilet would overflow, and started to panic.

It didn’t overflow.

Relief flooded me. I completed my business and went downstairs. Someone asked me a question, roughly, about how to do locate a car and know its condition. I replied with a brief explanation about a device that could be used. A used car salesman stuck his head out a room and verified what I said, elaborating on it. I thought the elaboration was unnecessary.

My wife and I walked to the front door to leave. The dream ended.

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