Another Dream of Frustration

Yes, another dream about communications. Being in the military. And technology. Except it wasn’t the US military. Wasn’t the Air Force. I was part of a different military organization. Black or very dark blue — couldn’t tell in the dream — one piece uniforms. Like coveralls. Belted. Black boots. Caps. Insignia that was made up of diamonds and stars in silver and gold on epaulets.

Some disaster was eminent. Tidal waves, storms, and flooding. Another guy and I were trying to organize stuff. He outranked me but I was asserting my ideas. It had to do with displays. What should we put on the displays? What would be most useful? A tech informed us that we could have more than one display up concurrently. How many were the max? Four. Then let’s put four up.

A vision came to me about what we could do. I became animated with the idea. Was trying to explain and sell it to the rest, especially the man in charge. My exasperation expanded. How could he not see and understand this, blah, blah? I slowed down. Became patient. He began to grasp the plan. But whereas I wanted to display information about the weather, our readiness, etc., he countered, “Let’s put information about eggs up there.”

Eggs. I was taken so far back. “Why would you put eggs up there?”

“So that everyone knows how many eggs we have,” the man in charge replied.

“Why would anyone care about eggs? We’re a military organization. There’s a storm due to hit at any minute. Why would we put information about eggs up?”

But he was insistent. The dream ended with me turning away and walking off, shaking my head.

An Instruction Dream

This dream featured Mila Kunis and included my SIL, along with a cost of fifty more strangers.

I was sitting in a terminal. Don’t know what means of transportation, only that I was on a journey and waiting to start the next leg. Beside me, one empty seat removed, is Mila Kunis. She’s on the same trip. She is talking about where she’s been and where she’s going, answering questions for people. I’m listening but not paying deep attention to her.

We’ve been given a package. Included in that package is a small, tattered book. Small, about 1/2 inch thick, four inches by three inches. Black or dark blue or green. The cover color might be different for other people in the group. I’ve seen some with red, brown, and tan, but I’m not certain that they have the same book. I’ve opened my book. The pages are very thin. There are symbols inside. The symbols look like hieroglyphics in faded black ink. Bird, eyes, pyramids. I begin working my way through the symbols because I think they’re important to learn. I’m soon starting to read other material and interpret it by using the symbols.

My SIL comes up. We’re surprised and pleased to see one another. She’s traveling, too. We’re going to the same place. Asked me what I’m doing with the book. She’s noticed it but I’m the only one in the group with it open. I explain what I’m doing and what I’ve learned so far. She tells me that’s a great idea, that she wants to do that, too, can I help her get started? I agree, and I start reading things to her, explaining the symbols and their relationships. Mila Kunis joins us to learn, too.

We’re all then called to move to another section. When I go there, I realize that I’ve seen the new place. They’re part of the symbols. I realize, too, that for us to move forward as planned, we need as a group to be arranged differently. I mention these things to SIL and Mila. SIL calls that out to the travel leader. The leader doesn’t know about it but he believes me. He wants me to arrange everyone as they should be.

I give instructions. Everyone has a chair. They need to be in one straight line at a specific place. I tell them to do this. When we finish, another group arrives and then ‘takes off’. The group I’m in wants to know why they went first. I explain, “Because their line was straight. We’re not aligned.” I’m looking along the line of chairs. It’s a tiled floor. With the tile pattern, it’s very easy to see that we’re not aligned.

I explain that to everyone. “Look at where you’re sitting. Look at the line on the tile. We need to be in a straight line. You should all be aligned on the same line of tile.” I walk along, repeating this, pointing it out to people, encouraging them to move and fix the line. They finish doing that. We’re ready to take off.

I turn to wait. I’m the only one standing but that, it seems from my reading, is right. While I’m waiting, I resume studying the book.

Dream end.

An Army Green Giant Dream

Dreamed I was on an installation that almost felt like an army place. No weapons or anything. But institutionalized structures. Parade grounds.

Me and others. All male. All green. In green uniforms. Like toy army soldiers. I was a small boy. Chubby-cheeked. But green. I learned panic was roiling the place. A large statue had taken up life and grown taller. Men, including my father, were discussing this. “What do you think he wants?”

“Who knows?”

“He might be angry.”

“I’m sure he’s angry.”

“Of course he’s angry.”

“We have to find out what he wants.”

“I’m sure he’ll let us now.”

“He’s huge.”

“Huge doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Somehow, thinking of the green giant statue — for that’s what it was, one of us, made into a statue at some time, now come to life but much larger — I was doing math and trying to tell them, it’s easy to know how big he is. It’s multiples of seven. He was a three-quarter replica. The original was twenty-eight feet. So the statue was twenty-one feet. Now he’d grown to three times that size when he came to life. I knew that, I thought, because it was he was three/fourths of what of the original. So he was now three times taller. Dream logic, right?

I was trying to tell them, the statue was sixty-three feet tall. That he was hollow. I knew because the statue was hollow. All were hollow metal. Anything else would have been prohibitive. The statue had been made, piece by piece welded onto a frame and then shaped. Bronze, I thought, stained green. Green bronze.

They were not listening to me. Other boys and I commiserated. Fathers. Never listening. Never hearing.

The giant green statue strode into view. Towered over us. Threatening with a scowl. Contemptuous. I kept saying, “Just ask him what he wants.”

Dream end.

Monday’s Meatballs

  1. My wife is feeling guilty. I’m a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. Because I live in Oregon now, I’ve also adopted the Seattle Seahawks to watch. That’s mostly because their games are frequently broadcast in the area (wonder why…). Anyway, back when Russ was cooking and the Steelers were 11-0, my wife started cheering for the two teams. Everything went downhill from there… She blames herself. Doesn’t help that she’s also a Patrick Mahomes fan. She was cheering for him. Then yesterday, during the playoffs, he hits the ground and is concussed and out. Yes, she blames herself. Says its bad luck for her to cheer for any team or person. Hmmm…maybe she should stop rooting for me to get published…
  2. Got a message from a FB friend. I didn’t know the name. Message just said, “Hi.” I thought, bull; you’re not my friend. I checked their FB page. Nothing there, you know, except a photo who I think is Paul Hollywood from a few years ago.
  3. We’ve been receiving spates of calls from our area code. They’re numbers that we don’t recognize. From years of conditioning, we don’t answer the phone unless we know the number. Going further, I’ve assigned family members specific ringtones so I know it’s them when the phone rings. When we check out these numbers doing reverse look up, they often turn out to be foreign numbers. They seem to be linked to a new scam going around.
  4. It seems like there’s a new scam on the phone, net, or in politics every week.
  5. Speaking of politics, I’m not going to write about it. I’m weary of this mess that’s arisen in the U.S. with normal people believing outlandish things. Then there’s the things that outlandish people believe. They really stretch sanity’s perimeters. I think such people are searching for a force to give their lives meaning. I do the same with my writing (and posting). It’s a structure for my existence; I wouldn’t be surprised if their deep hold on crazy ideas and its supporting community (or tribe) isn’t the same for them.
  6. This week’s soup is again the root soup — roasted broccoli, carrots, potatoes, and garlic put into a mushroom broth and simmered with seasoning. Awesome for winter. Just add good bread.
  7. We picked up some VitaCup infused coffee on sale during a ninja shopping venture last week. We’re both surprised how good this turmeric and cinnamon coffee concoction is. It’s become our go-to choice. That’s especially startling for me; I’ve always been a French or Italian roast sort of person, dark with no sugar, cream, milk, etc. I will acknowledge that I was/am a mocha drinker. When I did them, it was four shots of espresso, then add a little chocolate, and steamed milk. Quit doing those; bad for my prostate.
  8. Still averaging twelve miles per day walking, according to Fitbit. I’m dubious.
  9. Over in streamland, we’re enjoying “Snowpiercer” (the series) and “Doom Patrol”. Both are on HBO Max. I especially like “Snowpiercer” as it fleshes out things in better ways than the movie did. I’m a train fan, and this idea appeals to my sci-fi infused imagination.
  10. On WordPress, it always bugs me that when Post comes up on the right, there is a red button that says, “Move to trash”. It’s like they’re making a suggestion about what I’m writing to post, you know?
  11. I’m also watching “The Wire” again. Been years since I’ve seen it but the characters (and actors), storylines, and plots (and twists) all remain clear in memory. I still enjoy it because it has great values and terrific acting. The characters all have sharp human edges and avoid being stereotypes (although McNulty is pretty close to one as a functioning alcoholic who cares), and we care about them all, good people and bad.
  12. Got my coffee (yes, it’s the infused stuff). Time to write like crazy, at least one more time. Almost ready for the characters to put Arsehold into the rearview mirror. Fingers crossed, you know?

The Luggage & Shoes Dream

First, the dream was in two parts. I dreamed part one, awoke, returned to sleep and had part two.

Second, it again involved military. I understand more about myself, though, like I’m terrible at socializing. The military with its rank and structure gave me a niche where I was comfortable.

In both dream parts, I was in civilian clothes and traveling alone (which I often did in the mil and civilian life, because of my specialized roles).

Part one had me arriving at a hectic place lousy with Army personnel. They were arriving and staging. All of them were in uniform. Many had down time and were waiting to move on. It was all out doors, and it was a mess.

For my part, I’d arrived, found a place for my two bags, left them, and headed off to find food. Then I’d figure out where I was to next go.

Well, after eating (which happened off-dream, apparently), I went to use a can. All the cans were out of order, which pissed me off (no pun intended). I wandered for a while in search of working facilities. I did find and use a shower, and then eventually discovered a working but filthy latrine.

I’d wandered a long way and had lost orientation, with no idea where I’d left my bags. I began that search. After a bit, I went up on a hill.

A person who used to work with me waved to me from up there. She came down to chat. She was traveling on a separate mission. I told her that I’d lost my bags and had to go look for them. Bored, with time to kill, she volunteered to come and help.

We went down the hill to a sort of ad hoc intersection. While there, she spotted a piece of paper fluttering on the ground. It looked like a set of orders. Picking it up, she read my name off it. She realized that it said something about what’d happened with my bags. With her leading, we went to see a man. She gave him the paper, and he (complaining as he did) gave me one of my bags. I was thankful, but she had to go. That was okay, though, because suddenly I completely knew where I was and went right to my second bag.

Awakening at that point, I thought about it all. The dream setting’s chaos and messiness bothered me, as did the fact that I couldn’t remember and find my bags on my own. I went back to sleep.

I was back in the same place, but order had been established. With chairs set up, all the troops were sitting in order. I had my bags, and the toilets were working. I also had food. We’d been provided with box lunches on the long flight over. I’d not eaten mine, so I had two big sandwiches along with other things to eat in a clear plastic bag that I was carrying.

On arriving, my feet hurt, so I removed my shoes and set the to one side. I had a rental car so I was basically going to eat and use the facilities and then hit the road. As I walked around, though, I worried about my hair not being in reg (I was notorious for that back in the day). I found the barbershop but it was busy. A commander and his staff passed by me. After deciding that I couldn’t do anything about my hair, I decided to eat and leave.

First, I wanted my shoes. I knew where I’d left them but they weren’t there. Irritated, I started searching for them. I spotted them in the middle of a wide, beaten dirt road. As I went to get them, an army PFC (female) was crossing the road and kicked one of my shoes. I yelled at her for that; she gave me a dirty look. I then got my shoes (loafers, as I was still in civies), put them on, and went to a table, where I sat down to eat.

End dream.

Flooforder

Flooforder (floofinition) – the regular or normal functions done for pets.

In use: “In many homes, the natural flooforder is to feed the pets before anything else when they got up, other than relieving themselves. The pets often won’t permit any other flooforder.”

Back in the Writing Groove

Ah, sweet comfort. I’m back in the writing groove again.

Thinking about it as I made coffee this morning, I recognized how fiction writing every day helps me be more mindful. To understand characters’ motivation and behavior, I look to myself and other people that I know. I think about what I’ve done and what drives me, along with my inherent contradictions, and search for understanding of what I do, and why. And I do the same with other people, and the characters that I encounter in novels, short stories, movies, and television shows. All that is so that I can create richer characters and tell better stories.

Going through that thinking exercise as the darkness swept through me this week, I saw how my daily writing provides me structure and goals. Those structures and goals give my life meaning. So when I flail through the darkness and don’t want to write, my structure comes apart.

It isn’t just about feeding and satisfying the muses, telling stories, or pursuing goals of writing novels and becoming published. My writing is a tangible part of who I am. When I can’t write, I feel incomplete and adrift. I feel like I’m not me.

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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