Persistent Assistant

A persistent assistant

and ever-present friend

he’s with me wherever I’m at

it’s an established trend


In the bed

on the pot

across the street

by the vacant lot


On the chair

when I read

by the table

when I feed


He needs to know

what I’m doing

and watches around corners

(I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling)


Wherever I go

he is there

as if my being

is his only care


But once in a while

I spy on him as he’s sleeping

watching him move paws and whiskers

wondering, what’s he dreaming?

Sunday’s Theme Music

I’ve been reading a lot about walls in recent months for some odd reason.

Walls. Are they needed? Do they work? Are they being built? How much do they cost? Can’t we just buy a DIY at Home Depot?

Wondering why there’s all this talk about walls was obviously an invitation for “Wonderwall” by Oasis (1995) to slip over and around my walls and into my stream.

It fits as a song for the times, though; wonderwall, in the modern urban sense, is about a person you’re infatuated with.

Lots of people seem infatuated with walls these days.


Grappling with Dreams

My recent series of dreams have involved structures and family. Two that stand out were about my father and my in-laws.

The dream about my father had bronze red overtones to everything. We were underground, in a cave. Alive (as he is), he was selecting his coffin and burial site. His burial site was a strange building. It had been some sort of business. I was asking him, “This is where you want to be buried?” It seemed so bizarre to me.

Dad barely took notice of my question. He was busy organizing his burial process and closing the deal for the building. Passing out leaflets (which were red), he told me, “You’re one of the pallbearers but you won’t be carrying me.”

I said, “Where is this place?” Someone pointed out a map on wall. I went over to the map and studied it, determining that it was on the California-Nevada border. Knowing where it was, I stepped outside to see it. I discovered I was standing on top of a hill. Below was a huge quarry operation. Shaped in a circle or oval, it was miles wide.

“This is a mine,” I said, looking for Dad. “Why would you want to be buried in a mine?”

The dream ended.

The next night, I dreamed that I was visiting with my sister-in-law and her husband. Other relatives from my wife’s side were present, as was my wife. My mother- and father-in-law have both passed away, and we were at their old home. Only this home was nothing like their home.

Everyone was turning to me and saying, “What should we do with this?” The house was like an faintly familiar maze of rooms and additions. I told everyone, “We need to determine what we have.” Everyone agreed to that, but asked, “How?”

I said, “Well, first, we’ll need to explore.”

Officials came up to us to talk about the house and our plans. I told them of my plan, and they approved. They then said that I should contact a specific person. While he was a teammate, we’d never been close and he was a year behind me. “He’ll certify the findings for you,” the officials said.

I agreed to do that. Then I began leading the family around the dwelling. I said, “I’m going to turn on light switches. Everyone watch to see what lights up. We need to open every door and find every switch.” All agreed.

I did as planned. Whenever I opened a door, I’d find the switch and turn on the lights. Surprising reveals followed. Old rooms and additions that we didn’t know about were revealed. Some were old offices, with filing cabinets and seats. Although old, they showed signs of recent use. Scenes like this, of different rooms that we didn’t know about, happened again and again.

Finished, we went outside. My sister-in-law’s husband came up to me. He said, “Now you know what we faced. Not so easy, is it?” He was laughing, and agreeing, I laughed, too.

Studying the house, I said, “I never knew that it looked like this.” It was a sprawling, eclectic design of multiple levels. Many were new and some were old. As I looked at it, I said, “I know what to do.”

The dream ended.

I’ve dreamed about these in-laws a few times in the past two weeks. In other dreams, I was driving them. I’ve dreamed about my wife’s parents’ home numerous times in the past few years, but the dream and home were always different. The commonality is always that the house surprises me, I’m exploring it, and everyone is looking at me to decide what to do.


Saturday’s Theme Music

Today’s song came about into the stream as I was waiting for someone else.

Hello, I’ve waited here for you

Tonight, I throw myself into
And out of the red

Out of her head, she sang

h/t to

Of course, only the first line had a remote connection to what was going on. I was waiting, they came, we said a few things, and went on with our business. That’s a bit unlike the Foo Fighters’ song, “Everlong” (1997) about being happy in a relationship and realizing it was ending, and if anything will ever be as wonderful as that.

Yeah, been there, more than once. Once there’s a fracture in the relationship, it doesn’t seem like anything is ever the same again. From the break comes loss, confusion, and distrust. You put it behind you, but it nags like an ulcer on your lip.

Have a nice day!


Tribfloof (floofinition) – Something given or contributed voluntarily to a housepet or animal as due or deserved.

In use: “Every morning, and whenever he came home, his rescue pup came to him for a few minutes of tribfloof, whispered reassurances, petting, and ear and neck scratches to remind the dog that everything was okay, that he had a home and wasn’t abandoned again.”

Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s music emerges into the stream from interactions with others – hearing tales and stories, wondering about the truth, searching for nuances of understanding about who they are and what they’ve gone through.

Pictures of the situations pool and splash, shifting with more, diluting with doubts. Just one clear moment, you know?

That invites the old Little Feat song, “One Clear Moment” (1989).

I see you cryin’ and I don’t know why
The way you look you should be flyin’ high
In that one clear moment

h/t to

Little Feat was already in my head, as one of the members Paul Barrere, passed away. Some reflection is always demanded when one of those that provided the music to our lives departs the scene.


We saw the light

and thought it was fire,

held in glass

strung by a wire.

We smelled the smoke

and thought it was grass,

we felt lit

and fell on our ass.

We heard a song

and thought it was love,

we tasted tears

and thought it was salt.

We saw the light

but it was too far away.

We said, “Let’s start tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never came.


I lost you,

you found me,

kicking in the door

that I tried to seal.

Dancing on dreams,

living on smoke,

pennies away

from always being broke.

The crystal was fine,

but we drew lines,

toking on what was right,

and what should be denied.

Never agreeing

in sounds too soft to hear,

straining for space

when we tried to get near.

Blinded by lights

that could’ve been love or hate,

we made our way past others,

knowing too much too little

too late.



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