Wednesday’s Theme Music

Writing and the coronavirus mated, spurting today’s song into the stream.

I was writing about a queen. On break, I slipped into the backyard. Standing on the covered back patio, ginger cat wrapping around my calf like furry python, I listened to soft rain and admired pink and white blossoms on trees.

Lyrics arrive.

And I said mama, mama, mama, why am I so alone
I can’t go outside
I’m scared I might not make it home
I’m alive, I’m alive
But I’m sinking in
If there’s anyone at home at your place, darling
Why don’t you invite me in?
Don’t try to bleed me
I’ve been there before
And I deserve a little more

h/t to

The lyrics continued on autopilot while part of me sorted memory, coming up with Counting Crows, and then “Rain King” (1994).

Saturday’s Theme Music

It was three in the morning, and it was raining, and I was addressing something to do with cats. In that situation, everyone will naturally recall the words to “3AM” by Matchbox Twenty (1997).

I was telling the cat (being an irritant by blocking the pet door) (and looking smug about it) that he was a major irritation, and then told another cat, “It’s three AM and it’s raining, and it’s cold. Are you sure that you want to go out there?” Yes, yes, he had an urgent matter. I let him out, went to bed, tried to recover my dreams, but instead looped “3AM” in my head.

She said, “It’s cold outside” and she hands me a raincoat
She’s always worried about things like that
She said, “It’s all gonna end and it might as well be my fault”

And she only sleeps when it`s raining
And she screams, and her voice is straining

And she says, “Baby, it’s three AM, I must be lonely”
And she says, “Baby, well, I can’t help
But be scared of it all sometimes
And the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this”

[Verse 2]
She’s got a little bit of something, God, it’s better than nothing
And in her color portrait world she believes that she’s got it all
She swears that the moon don’t hang quite as high as it used to

And she only sleeps when it’s raining
And she screams and her voice is straining

And she says, “Baby, when it’s three AM I must be lonely”
Well, heaven she says, “Baby, well, I can’t help
But be scared of it all sometimes
And the rain’s gonna wash away, I believe this”

h/t to

P.S. The cat was back in a few minutes, trying to get in, but some smug boogerfloof was blocking the door.

The Celery Dream

The story begins in a house. I know it’s mine, but it’s enormous.

I’m in the living room, which is probably two thousand square feet. Huge plate-glass windows line three sides. Rain is falling outside. Under one side of the windows, I have a stone wall with a rock garden, small hill, and waterfall. Several broad-leafed green plants are growing in the rock garden. Yes, this is in my living room.

Three cats reside there with me, and they’re running around. My wife lives there, too; I know (in the dream) that she’s in another part of the house. We also have a few visitors.

I’m dealing mostly with the cats, feeding them, playing with them, while glancing outside at the rain and chatting with my visitors. One of them (Bob) calls attention to some water he sees on the floor in another room.

After going and confirming that a small puddle is in the kitchen, I call out the news to my wife and then begin inspecting the kitchen, looking for leaks, until I’ve discovered where it seems to be entering. Well, I’ll need to take care of that, I announce while wondering about its severity.

Then, quick change, I’m looking for the cats. One, a short-haired orange and white tabby, has gone outside. I go out after him. My yard is enormous. One side borders a sidewalk alongside a street. The cat is enjoying my efforts to capture him, capering across the green grass and evading me with mischievous ease. Then the cat stops in the game to look up the sidewalk. Following his look, I see a large orange and white cat (it looks like a Maine Coon Cat) coming down the sidewalk, tail up. The cat looks like a large, long-haired version of my cat. I comment on that to someone.

I’m back inside my house, but I’m gone down into the garage. Like other parts of the house, it’s huge, enough space for perhaps a dozen cars. None are there now. It’s spotless cement.

I’m preparing a fix. Although I knew what I was doing in the dream, I don’t know now what I was fixing, but I was planning to use celery. To fix whatever it was with the celery, I was using a chisel to break stalks of celery into small plugs. I had problems with some of the celery stalks, and then stopped because my visitors came down to find me, and I didn’t want them knowing what I was doing.

After I hid the celery and went to speak with them, the dream ended.

Raining Color Dream

After thinking about dreams and posting today’s theme music (“Highway Star”, Deep Purple, 1972), I was fixing brekkie when a dream segment blasted into memory.

I was a child, maybe nine or ten, but could’ve younger, outside with many other children. Blue sky, sunshine, laughing, and game-playing established the background. We were having a great time.

I was heading toward a picnic table by tall pine trees when I heard others gasping. That caused me to look up. When I did, I discovered it was raining. No clouds were visible, but rain was falling.

A bold, shimmering rainbow formed. It seemed like it was right over our heads, so close and solid that we were trying to jump up and touch it. Then the rain became drops of falling color. The colors splashed over us, making us giddy with laughter. We discovered we could cup our hands and catch handfuls of color and pour them over ourselves and one another. Blues, purples, reds, yellows, oranges, and greens were pooling on the ground and streaming together into rainbows that flowed across the land.

Splashing and stomping in these flowing rainbows, we discovered that we could pick up the colored water and shape it like very wet and malleable clay.

The dream ended.

My heart rushes as I remember it.

Friday’s Theme Music

Still raining.

Still walking in it.

Still fun — or pleasant — but a little less so than yesterday or the day before.

Smoke was rising from the hillside, leftover from the controlled burns in the watershed the other day. But I thought, yeah, maybe someone set fire to the rain.

So then I was thinking about Adele’s song, “Set Fire to the Rain” (2011), a powerful, powerful song about love, relationships, and re-birth. I (probably like many) enjoy her refrain:

But there’s a side to you that I never knew, never knew
All the things you’d say, they were never true, never true
And the games you’d play, you would always win, always win

h/t to

That’s what you find as you go through relationships, the pieces that aren’t revealed, whose revelations (when found) fundamentally shift your thoughts (and feelings) about the other, leaving you to ask yourself (as you search), what do I do?

Sometimes you walk on, sometimes you stay, but the relationship has been changed.

Thursday’s Theme Music

It was a rainy night so I started humming the Eurythmics song, “Here Comes the Rain Again” (1983). So sorry they broke up but bands have their own cycles of life, death, and creation.

I enjoyed the construction and sensibilities of these lines in the song:

Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion

I want to walk in the open wind
I want to talk like lovers do
want to dive into your ocean
Is it raining with you?


I happened to be walking in the open wind and remembering walking in the rain, alone, something that I enjoy. A sharp cold wind was knifing across my cheeks, and I breathed it all in with joy, satisfaction, and nostalgia. Then the clouds broke and there was that brill full moon, coming on like a spotlight. With clouds skipping past the moon’s surface and the wind quickening, it seemed like the moon sprinted across the sky, a trick of the mind. Clouds closed over the moon, and the rain came again.

Is it raining with you?

Monday’s Theme Music

Rain arrived yesterday afternoon, bringing its evocative smells and sounds. Late in the evening, I slipped out onto the covered back patio with a pair of my feline companions to enjoy the sounds. Steady but soft, the rain imbued the night with tranquility.

Out of my thoughts and into my stream came an old Eddie Rabbit song, “I Love A Rainy Night” (1980). I came to know the song through my wife. We were living in Texas then, assigned to Randolph AFB outside of Universal City, not far from San Antonio. She enjoyed the song and frequently played it on our stereo cassette player. Hearing the song takes me right back to that year and place.

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