Tag: sister

Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Decemberspect

It’s December 5, 2024. Thursday. Someone has taken a roller brush and painted the sky with thin smoky gray and white. It’s poor mixing, with tendrils of the gray sometimes thickened into a rich vein. Patching blue shows through. I take an eastern blister of white as the sun.

Morose is the word for that scene. It’s 38 F locally, 40 to 42 in other town zones. We’ll see high temperatures in the low to mid fifties.

First, happy birthday to my little sister. Point of order, she is a grandmother. Mom’s life disrupted sis’s life but sis survived and reformed herself as an intelligent, caring, forthright individual. She’s a strong person and I admire her for so many facets of who she is.

I read Jan Ressenger’s post, “Trump’s Threatened Immigration Deportations Would Traumatize Students and Disrupt Public Schools”, this morning. She writes about the impact on children and school systems, and how school systems step up to help their studencts embroiled in the mess. As one superintendent summarized it, ‘We went into kind of a Mom and Dad mode and just cared for kids.’

Our fear-based right wing so disappoints me. Many of our right-wingers profess to be good Christians. Naturally, I ponder what our nation’s founders would think of the right wing’s myopic attacks on immigrants. Yes, what would Jesus do? Ho, ho, ho, merry Christmas. The right wing is slowly emerging as a darkly evil and inhumane force.

Away from that. WhenI looked out and spied the mostly white sky, the morning mental music stream (Trademark seceded) churned with “White Wedding” by Billy Idol. The Neurons thought, white, and went with it.

Get positive, be strong, have coffee. Coffee and I just renewed our vows once again. Keeps our relationship fresh. Here’s the music.

Cheers

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The Cougar Dream

I awoke in the dream in a bed. As I sat up, I realized a young cougar had walked in from outside. Before I could do anything, it jumped up on the bed and came to me. I was freaking but urged myself to relax and stay calm.

My wife entered the room and gasped. “That a cougar?”

“Yes,” I quietly answered. “Don’t move fast. It’s pretty chill. Don’t do anything to upset it.”

The cougar was sniffing me and sometimes licking me. Wasn’t real big, about the size of a small large dog, if you follow. It wasn’t threatening me.

My wife said, “I’m going to back up back into the bathroom and close the door.”

“Do it slow,” I replied.

She did. The cougar spent several more minutes with me and then left through the door. I gathered from what I saw in the dream that I was in a living room sofa sleeper and the front door was open on the other side of the room. When the cougar left, I hurried out after it with an intention of warning others. The cougar meandered along the sidewalk, literally sniffing the flowers, along with other things, and then went down a hill away from the place through thick foliage.

I went back and dressed, and my wife and I walked down the sidewalk to the dining room. My sisters and brothers-in-law were there, so we told them about what had happened. As I finished telling the story, my older sister came in and listened. Giving a hand wave, she said, “Oh, that’s just Leslie.” She explained that Leslie was a young cougar who lived here. He never bothered anyone.

I was mildly indignant that she was so blase about my cougar encounter and that she’d known about this cougar and didn’t say anything.

Dream end.

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The Power Dream

This was a dream where green dominated. I mean, it seemed like it was being viewed through night vision goggles and turning it all green.

So I was supposed to be taking some position of power. But on my way to accept it, I discovered a nefarious plot to replace me as soon as I accepted it. Following some dream plotting that I don’t understand, the position was vacant. I’d been selected to fill it. But once I filled it, I could be removed and another put into place. Apparently that involved a prophecy. I understood it all when I was in the dream but the plot evades me now that I’m awake.

Essentially, I discovered the plot early. What shocked me was that one of my sisters was involved in it. I vowed not to take the office because once I did and she removed me, she was installing a tyrant. That, I felt, wouldn’t be good for the world. So, added by others, I set off on a series of escape and evasion adventures. Many times, sis’s forces would have me partially surrounded. I’d feigned going in one direction and gallop in another, or I’d dress someone to look like me and then sneak out while the decoy distracted sis’s forces. This happened about a dozen times with variations in location and settings.

During this, sis would often be in a heavy fur coat, sometimes white but it would be black once in a while. She was being driven around in an old black Rolls Royce.

Meanwhile, I was mostly on foot. The settings were usually woods or fields with fences, and felt like a maze, but I discovered or created shortcuts, sometimes tunneling, and sometimes scaling walls to escape. People, mostly strangers, were usually helping me.

Besides all of that, my sister would sometimes call out to me to surrender. She would insist that I was misunderstanding. I’d shout back to her about how disappointed I was by what she was doing, and frequently mocked her inability to capture me. I also pointed out that even if she captured me, I would never accept the office, so she may as well give up.

In the end, I found myself on the crest of a green ridge, part of a mountain range, standing, looking down and back. Below was my sister’s Rolls and her forces, looking lost about where I was.

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Mom’s House – A Dream

First, this isn’t anything like Mom’s real life house.

I was sleeping in the dream when something awoke me. I stayed in bed listening. Shades were pulled but daylight was growing visible through the slates. I knew I was in Mom’s and I thought I was alone but I was hearing noises downstairs. As I listened, I realized it was one of my younger sisters, so I dressed and went downstairs.

Down there, I found an open door that led to a patio. A man in half-removed black leather clothing was prostrate on the patio. My sister was further out on the patio, busy doing things. We said hello, and then I asked about the man. She said it was my cousin, Rick. (Due to the marriages and divorces, Rick isn’t her cousin.) Rick, half sleep or drunk, said with a grin and eyes barely open, “Yes, it’s me, Rick. I came to see you.” He then went to sleep.

I moved on out onto the patio. I’d need seen this house of Mom’s before, and was amazed. It was a white cement modern design on the ocean’s shore. Sunshine brightly lit the day. The tide was coming in, entertaining me with smells and thunderous cracking sounds. I was pleased and astonished and talked to my sister about this.

But — the house was right on the shore, although there was an elevation down to the sea. The incoming tide was coming closer and closer to the house, slashing the rocks and earth with heavy rolling waves. I worried about the house flooding, and watched until the waves were right at the house’s foundations.

Then something moved on my vision’s edge, flagging my attention: a black and white kitten was cavorting about on a cement piece. It disappeared.

I hustled over to look for it. It was down under white cement bridge trusses, along with another kitten. The second one was playing in the sea water. Horrified, afraid they needed rescued, I leaned further over.

A man and boy were down with the kittens. With me watching, the boy retreated, calling the kittens, who ran after him.

I headed back for Mom’s house. Now I could see more of its exterior broaded slabs of glass and white cement at arty angles, a very modern and interesting design, with several patios, porches, and balconies. I also saw then that the water had completed retreated already. I asked myself, “How did that happen so fast?”

Going over, I spoke with my sister, pointing out the tide threat to the house, because climate change was raising water levels. I showed her where I can see how high the water used to go, and compared it to this latest. My sister was dismissive, answering, “I know, but this is Mom’s house. It’s not my problem.”

I chastised her for that thinking but left. Mom and her partner arrived. We talked about the house but then she mentioned her other house and wanted her partner to go check on it because there’d be a storm early in the week. I volunteered to go with him and we headed for the door. Mom stopped me and said, “Do you need money? I can give you some if you need it.” I graciously turned her down, thanking her as I did.

Her partner and I arrived at another place. Isolated and not nearly as grand as the place which I’d just left, surrounded by mud and puddles, it was also white and modern, although it all looked shabby and dirty. I asked him, “Whose house is this?” When he replied that it belong to him and my mother, I followed up, “You two bought it together?”

“Yes,” he answered.

He and I made our way into the house. There was no furniture. In the kitchen, I discovered warped, damaged cupboards. I pointed these out to him, and he agreed, these needed to be replaced. I found an open window. Showing him, I asked, “Is this always left open?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, that’s what’s damaging the inside. That needs to be closed.”

Dream end.

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Monday’s Wandering Thoughts

She entered the coffee shop, stopping by the door to peruse her phone. She resembled his younger sister so much that he studied her in depth, thinking of the similarities. Then, he realized, he wasn’t thinking of his sister as she now was, mother to two teenagers, but she’d been, fresh faced out of high school, so young and pretty.

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A String of Short Dreams

My Dad and I were together. Both younger than RL, we were out hanging out, talking and walking by a wide, busy road.

We ended up at string of used car lots. That pushed us into reminiscing about cars which we’d owned, Porsches, Mercedes, Cadillacs, Chevies, Corvettes, BMWs, and so on.

We came across a red C4 Corvette, a series produced in the 1980s and 90s. The car was on display, hood and doors open. Dad had a blue one of those, so he chatted about it. Somehow, he talked himself into buying it for my older sister, Debby, because he thought she would like it. Well, it was a car and a Vette, and in excellent condition, so she probably would, I agreed, though I didn’t think it a car she’d buy for herself, a grandmother with three children and seven grandchildren.

I met with Debby later and asked if she liked her car. She didn’t know what I was talking about. Thinking that I might be spilling a surprise, I tried not saying anything but finally confessed that I’d been with Dad when he bought her a red Corvette. Then I gave her giving some details about the car. She laughed as I spoke, asking, “A Corvette? Why did he do that?”

I told her, “I don’t know. It was a whim. He thought you’d like it.”

She just laughed.

Dream end.

The next dream found me in a house. The large and luxurious house was mine but not from my RL existence. My wife and I, younger than RL, were home when the power went out. I went downstairs to the garage to check the circuit breakers. As I entered the garage, the power came back on, so I went back up. Then I thought I heard a noise from the garage and went back downstairs. I found some doors open. At that point, the power went off again, but I heard the circuit breakers being thrown. Someone is messing with me, I decided, and called the police.

The police immediately arrived. Angry at that point, I told them what transpired and they looked around. Nothing was found and they left. I then installed an alarm. It immediately went off. I didn’t know if I’d installed it wrong or it was due to an intruder, so I went into the garage to investigate. Someone ran out through the back door when I walked in. I ran over but it was night, they were in black, and I couldn’t see them. Cursing them and muttering about security, I closed and locked the door.

A third dream found me worrying about cats. Outside, in a patchy lawn by an old house, I’d see a kitten and then go try to find it. Most were tabbies but there was also one black kitten. Sometimes I saw them and chased them around. Frustration and irritation joining hands and skipping through me, I said, “Screw this, I give up.” With that, I sat down on a block of white cement. I’d tried, I told myself.

As I sat there, the kittens emerged. Coming to me, they climbed my legs and settled in my lap. Then they looked up and meowed at me, which is where the dream terminated.

The final remembered dream had me at a relative’s house. They were people I didn’t know but some of my family was there. I was a young man in my early twenties, home on leave from the military.

More relatives who I didn’t know arrived. I went downstairs into a small family room. Newcomers followed me down. Male and female, they ranged in ages from around five to seventeen. I don’t know how many were there. Intensely curious about me, they peppered me with questions. Trying to distract and entertain them, I suggested we listen to music. I then showed them a stereo system. I told them, “This is my old system. I replaced it so I brought it here and installed it so that they could use it.” It was the actual system which I now own.

I played a song from Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album, “Wish You Were Here”. The oldest male told me that they also had a stereo system there and showed it to me, located exactly opposite mine, and I hadn’t seen it. He then played an AC/DC song, “Highway to Hell”. As this played and we talked about music, I realized that there were four stereo systems in the room, which I thought was funny and amusing.

They were still asking me questions, like they were interviewing me. I sprawled out on a sofa and answered. One of the young girls asked if she could lay on me, then did so without me answering. I was uncomfortable with this, shifting my body away from her. She put her head on my chest and said, “I can hear your heartbeat.”

The dream ended.

Overall, it was a busy night of dreams.

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Monday’s Wandering Thought

She would have been called a troubled teenager. Drinking too much, dropping out of school, becoming pregnant, marrying before she was seventeen, her life had taken turns that we didn’t expect from such an intelligent and charming person.

Two divorces, two children, and forty-five years later, she acquired her GED, graduated college with a B.S., runs a family business, is a grandmother of three, and is also a professional. She’s the one we turn to for help. She’s strong, stable, and reliable, the person we thought she would be before she became a troubled teen.

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Flash Dreams

These seem like a sequence of scenes from one long but fragmented dream.

I began with two young people, twentyish, male and female. Seated at a long folding table in a smallish room, definitely a temporary set up, the kind encountered at conventions and conferences for registration, they were going through papers I’d provided them about my visions, values, and dreams. Pens in hands, talking — and sometimes snickering — they made checkmarks and wrote notes. They seemed to be evaluating the for entrance somewhere, part of a process that I expected. I was the only one in there. I had other places to go and things to do.

A mother with her young children entered from a back door. Setting down a model of a dragon, she complained to me about the assignment’s difficulty. I loved her dragon, though, praising it for its blue and purple colors, telling her that she’d done a great job. As she departed, another mother — who turned out to be one of my younger sisters, G — entered with several children, She also had a dragon model, green and blue, and complained about the assignment’s level of difficulty. I complimented her on the model and her skill and imagination. As she was unmoved, I gave a pep talk, telling her that it was a stretch assignment to unleash her potential because I knew how creative, imaginative, and intelligent she was.

Next, I was out the door, walking with my wife, heading toward some sort of gathering. We were walking on a large asphalt area and our destination was a long way off. Scattered knots and small groups of other people were seen making their way, too. I roughly knew the way and told my wife that we needed to hurry. A coal-skinned squat man, very broad, walking with a cane, approached with a wide grin. Wearing a pork pie hat, he was dressed in black pants and coat, a green vest, and a white tee shirt, and was several inches shorter than me.

He asked if we were going to the event. I replied yes and he told me that he knew shortcuts which he would show us. That sounded fine. he took us on a diagonal course. My wife and I struggled to keep up with him. We had to go over a fence which was about knee high. Our guide went without problem, leaving me to wonder how he’d done it as I slowed, hopped the fence, and caught my pants cuff. As I finally freed myself, I saw a chain across an entry which was lower and realized he must have used that.

Another dream flash took over. I needed to change clothes. Uncertain about what to where, I had a wide selection of choices hanging on hangers on racks available. I tried and removed several. Everything looked good on me but was worried about being dressed not just for the event, where I was being honored, but also the weather. My wife joined me to hurry me along.

I moved into another dream segment. I was in a busy room. People filled tiers of desks and tables. Many consulted one another or spoke on phones.

I was standing toward the center. I realized that I knew something which they didn’t and began trying to explain. A large projection of a Google map sprawled across the room’s front. Taking an air mouse, I began scrolling up the map, telling everyone that what they needed was further north. The mouse and scrolling proved sensitive and difficult to manage. I kept scrolling up too far and then overcorrecting. People stopped paying attention as I worked the map and tried to find the place I wanted. I knew that it was far up north. I saw the Arctic Circle and told myself, it’s not that far, but then I saw an entire new land projected.

As I took in mountains, rivers, seas, and lakes, astonishment filled me. How did I never know about that area? I thought, too, it must be freezing cold up there, given how cold it could become in the northern continental United States. These places I was seeing were hundreds, maybe thousands of miles further north. But using the mouse, I found I could click on places and revealed information such as latitude and longitude. Displayed in negative numbers, they didn’t make sense. I began to guess that they were imaginary numbers, and thought, maybe it’s an imaginary land. Clicking more, I discovered the temperatures. Some said 20, 25, 30, and then I realized that these temperatures in Centigrade. They were warm places.

Dream end.

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The Sister Dream

Wasn’t sure what to call this dream but the sister aspect spoke to me more in reflection.

First, it was me as a younger man with a car I once owned, a silver 1985 Mazda RX-7 SE that I bought used in California in 1991. I had parked it at a familiar convenience store in West Virginia, where I was visiting. Dream perspective changed: I looked at the parking lot with the car parked and me walking away from it, toward the store, as it could be viewed from the store’s security camera.

Another car drove up and parked on top of my car. This car was an old maroon Datsun sedan. Beater was an apt description. A young woman drove with another young woman as passenger. Both were white. They were laughing, laughing at her parking effort, laughing at being on top of my car, laughing at wrecking my car.

I stormed over there and shouted at her in my coldest, angriest voice. I told her that I owned her. I would see her in jail. Contempt crackled through every syllable. The driver sat in the car, holding the steering wheel, and crying. Her friend tried to talk me into being more compassionate, but I remained relentless. I called the police.

Scene change. I was driving the same car. A young white man drove an old white car into the side of my car.

I was livid and incredulous, thinking, the same car has been hit twice. I stalked to the offending white car, yelling at the driver. My brother-in-law showed up. He told me he’d take care of it because the driver was his son.

I was stunned. That was his son? I didn’t recognize him. My BIL went on, “Your sister just inherited some money. It should cover the damage. I’ll sign the check over to you.” He took out yellowed parchment paper and showed me the check. It was for $950. “Will that cover it?” he asked. Yes, I replied.

My BIL signed the check and then used scissor and cut it away from the rest of the document. As this happened, I wondered, who die? Who did my sister inherit this from? I saw that the document was an itemized list of household objects in large letters.

I took the check and began crying. I stood in my dream crying my eyes out. Then I decided to go see my sister.

I found my sister at home. She told me she needed a ride to get somewhere. I told her that I would give her the ride. I took her someplace. A party seemed to be going on. After dropping her off, I returned home. I awoke later in a panic because I thought I’d overslept and needed to pick up my sister and bring her home. As I rushed about, scrambling to leave, another sister asked where I was going. I told her I was going to pick up S. She replied, “She’s already home. Someone else gave her a ride.” I went to find my sister and confirm she was there. On the way, I stopped and peed in the bathroom. Then I looked in a bedroom and saw my sister asleep in a bed.

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Would I Lie?

I enjoy watching “Would I Lie to You?” Hosted by Rob Brydon, Lee Mack and David Mitchell lead two teams. Two guest celebrities appear on each team every show, people like Bob Mortimer (who shares hilarious tales), Jo Brandt, Richard Osmen, and Greg Davis. The team members then tell a story about something that happened to them. The other team then guesses whether it’s a lie or true. Points are awarded. Yes, it’s British. My favorite episode involved Germane Greer and cannibalism. I love how the panels and Rob really get into the premise.

I stream it on Britbox via Amazon. I’ve watched many episodes more than once, tests to see how well my memory works as I try to recall if they’re lying or telling the truth. I’m usually wrong. I don’t think that bodes well for me doing my taxes in the future.

Whenever I watch the show, I think, what tales could I share? I’ve come up with one. First, the opening statement. That’s what’s used to launch the premise and cross-examination.

I once passed out three times trying to give blood just so I could have a doughnut.

They would ask the usual questions. When did this happen? Where? How old were you?

I’d answer, “I was in my early twenties, working at a bank in Pittsburgh, PA. The American Red Cross was having a blood drive in the lobby. If you give blood, you’re given a free doughnut. I really wanted a doughnut, so I took my place in line. Then, well, as I approached, I fainted.”

For some reason, as I write this, I imagine it being spoken in David Mitchell’s voice.

You fainted, will be repeated. I’ll nod, affirming that’s what happened.

Then?

“They put me on one of the little beds they had set up and gave me some orange juice. I returned to my desk, but I really wanted a doughnut. I got back in line and fainted again.”

They would ask me, “Was this your first time giving blood? Have you ever fainted before? Do you have a history of fainting?”

It was my first time giving blood. I’d never fainted before.

The ARC again put me on one of their little beds with orange juice. After I felt better, I returned to my desk. But…

I really wanted a doughnut.

I returned to the line, worked my way forward, and fainted again.

“A third time,” people exclaim. “Boy, you really wanted that doughnut.”

“Well, it was free,” I reply, “and I like doughnuts.”

“What kind of doughnuts were they? Were they special doughnuts?”

“Glazed.”

“Were you hurt whenever you fainted?” They would ask. “When you say, fainted, do you mean that — what do you mean?” (Lee Mack is questioning me; I hear his voice.)

“I swooned,” I answer. “My vision grew dim, my legs grew weak and then buckled, I lost consciousness, and found myself being helped off the floor.”

“How long were you out?” Lee asks.

“Not long, a few seconds, maybe ten seconds, I guess.”

“Did you ever get a doughnut?”

“No.”

Rob asks, “Well, Lee, it’s time to decide if he’s telling a lie or telling the truth.”

He’s lying, they agree. Nobody would get in line three times just for a doughnut. Or the ARC would give him a doughnut after the second time, to reward him for his efforts.

“It is a lie,” I tell them when the time comes. “The truth is, it wasn’t me; it was my sister.”

And that’s the truth.

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