Monday’s Wandering Thought

Ashlandia’s Little Libraries are being emptied. People are stealing the books and selling them online. A person has been seen doing it. Elder white male, they describe, with a white beard and a green jacket. Doesn’t really narrow the field in Ashlandia, which has a population stacked with elderly white males with white beards. He was driving an older red Subaru, which figures; Subarus are as numerous as grass in Ashlandia.

The crime isn’t limited to Ashlandia. Stealing the books raises questions. The books are free and there to be taken. So can they be stolen?

My answer is that when you go through town and empty a dozen Little Libraries and take all the books and sell them online, you’re violating the spirit. I guess you can’t be charged and convicted for that, though.

Thursday’s Theme Music

Doors ajar, windows open, cool morning air flows through the house. It’s 64 F out but will strike the upper nineties today. We’re bracing for the weekend when triple digit are expected for the first time this year for us.

Meanwhile, we’ll enjoy this day, because it’s here, and we are, too. It’s Thursday, June 23, 2022. Sunrise came as expected, just after dark thirty this AM. Sunshine will rule until sunset, just before 9 PM this evening.

I have “Barracuda” by Heart from 1977 in the morning mental music stream. I remember that one friend at the time of the song’s release hated this song, just hated it, always complaining because everyone thought Heart was Nancy and Ann, and that enraged him. I realized that he didn’t hate the song, but the group. Around then, I noticed him veering sharply toward racism and sexism and curtailed associating with him.

The neurons brought “Barracuda” forward because of a quote I’d one read from one of the Wilson sisters about “Barracuda” being based on another group’s song. She said, paraphrasing, you steal or borrow what you love and make it your own. I’ve observed it countless times in rock music and novels. I’m doing it my novel, because that’s how it works. I don’t call it stealing or borrowing: I call it inspiration.

Stay positive and test negative. Papi just came in and reminded me that it’s time for coffee. He’s right. Such a smart cat. Cheers

Stealing Batteries Deam

I’d dream I was back with folks from my military time — my final assignment, actually — but we weren’t in the military. I’d started a new job and was pleased and happy. The bosses and co-workers all seemed to take a shine to me. Things were going well. Then (you knew it was coming), one co-worker asked me to put something into an envelope for him and stamp it secret. He gave me the something, adding as he walked away, “I need to take it with me when I leave, so if you could hurry it up.”

I was eager to please, so I set right about taking care of it. Putting something in an envelope and marking it…no prob!

But, the something was a package of batteries. Eight of them. They were about C sized. Each was bundled to function as two.

Confusion struck. I was fetching an envelope but was asking myself, what’s going on? Why am I doing this? I remembered that he wanted to stamp this secret. Secret? Why?

As I cottoned to what was up — he was stealing these batteries — the bosses came around. One was a short female who I once worked for. She was just chattering away with a big smile. I was nodding and smiling back while hiding the batteries as I saw the requesting co-worker give me an anxious look over her shoulder.

Time was running out. The boss wanted something else done. “Okay,” I agreed, “but I need to finish this first.”

She wanted to know what I was doing but then veered off to another work area. I hurried to put the batteries into the envelope, seal it, and stamp it. The first thing was done but then another supervisor, a guy I worked with at a start-up after retiring, came by to see what I was doing. I hid the envelope and chatted away as the operation around me began to close up for the day. I needed to hurry. I wanted to help this guy because he’d come to me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, even if I did wonder, was it worth it? Why was he stealing batteries? How much did batteries cost?

Then, though, I gave up. Instead, I found myself in the kitchen. Most of the others were already gone. Dishes with half-eaten food on them were on the stainless steel sink counter. Another co-worker (also from my last assignment) said, “We need to clean this up.” So, we did. The last thing I remember was scrapping a half-eaten piece of pie from the plate into the trash and then turning to wash it in the sink as the water ran.

The Unlocked Doors Dream

I was in a city. Busy, busy, busy, I was trying to take shortcuts to get from one place to another.

As I rushing along, I saw an MG TC. In beautiful shape, I was familiar with the car, and was aware that an elderly man owned it.

What the hell, I thought. I’ll take that. Then I’ll return it to him later.

The car was cream-colored, it’s top down. It fired up immediately. Off I went. The drive was magnificent. Its smooth ride amazed me. Driving on residential streets through autumn weather, I encountered no traffic, stop lights, or stop signs. It put a smile on my face.

As I arrived at my destination, guilt and worry struck. How was I going to get the car back from here? Why did I take it? What’s wrong with me? He’s an old man and that car is his treasure. He’s going to worry about it.

Another man came along. As though aware of my thinking, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll get the car back to him and take care of it. Go on.”

I was reluctant; this didn’t seem right. But the man had already taken the car and was gone.

I turned and went on, entering the building. Inside was a cypher-lock door. I entered the combo but it didn’t work. Others were arriving. No one knew the cypher code. “He must have changed it,” I said. Finding a phone, I called to get help, dialing extension 2884, which used to the telephone extension used for U.S. Air Force command posts around the world. Whatever base you were on, if you called that extension, you could reach the command post.

I dialed it but the door was unlocked as I did, and then an old friend opened the door from the other side. He said, “I saw you on the monitor and came out to let you in.” As we entered, I headed for ‘my’ door. “Oh, no, my door is unlocked,” I said with worry. “All the doors must be unlocked.”

“No,” my friend said. “I just unlocked your doors for you.”

The dream ended.

Image from MGexp.com/registry. Sorry, not my car.

The Stealing Dream

I was at an airport, awaiting a flight. Like it often happens (or its my experience), I’d had to rush, but now I had to wait. Restless, I shopped in a store. There I found a dark blue denim cap. Thinking, this is cool, I bought it.

Calls to board are heard through the noisy bedlam. I head that way but find that I’ve forgotten my hat, explaining to her that it’s new, that I just bought it. Amicably, she replies, you should go back and get it, then.

I head back and retrieve my new hat. As I’m leaving the store, I see another man. He has a package — it looks like a toy. Seeing him, I say, “Oh, no. I forgot to buy a gift. Now I don’t have time.” I think it’s for a young nephew, but I’m not sure.

The man replies with a grin and a wink, “Steal it, like I did.” He brazenly strides on.

Dubious, I think, well, okay, what’s the harm? I grab a package like his and leave the store. Guilt immediately swamps me. I want to return the package but I’m also running late for my flight. I can’t resist the urge to turn around and take the package back to the store. Putting it just inside the entry, I turn, put my new cap on, and run for my flight.

I can see my aircraft, a jet, outside the window. Deciding that I need to reach it, I squeeze myself through the glass, ending up between the white aircraft’s nose and the terminal. Wondering, what just happened, how did I get here, I know immediately, it’s because of everything that I’d just done.

The dream ends there, with me in a state of confusion.

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: