A Dream: Graduation
I dreamed I was at a sister’s house with other family members, getting ready to go somewhere. I never actually saw anyone but knew this and frequently spoke with them, but just in passing comments.
I knew my sister had decided to start a new business. I saw these large, clear plastic trays, made for transferring fluids, were dirty, so I stopped and cleaned them all, to help her out.
They were all in my sister’s car, waiting for me, a maroon vehicle. I then downloaded two computer things to her car: business planning software for her, and directions to my uncle’s house for me.
When I got in the car, my sister said, “There are two downloaded items.” I explained what they were.
She was driving. I got on the phone with my uncle for directions. I knew how to get there; I just needed the final address. (This uncle is deceased in real life.)
He gruffly asked me if I had pen and pencil. I didn’t but felt that wasn’t needed, and would just depend on my memory.
My sister dropped me off at a facility where I was to graduate. Others who were to graduate were also arriving, in groups. Most were younger. I got in line alone. Watching the operation, I realized that they graduated us in small groups in a building and not on stage.
As I reached the door and stopped, waiting to enter, I noticed the man behind me was trying to push me forward. I turned around and told him not to do that. He, a bearded white guy with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, backed off.
I went into the room when called forward. I again had to wait. I noticed that they were providing mysteries to the people ahead of me. They were expected to solve them using math. I began trying to shift my focus to do better.
We went left, and then right, lining up. When I was second in line, a man helping with giving out the diplomas came to me to identify me. After he did, he explained that I was graduating at a higher level than the others, and things were a little different for me. He moved me to one side to wait.
After a little bit, he brought over a white sheet of paper and told me to hold onto it. I examined it and gathered that it was a summary of my achievements and records, but it was written in a small font and was often different foreign languages so it didn’t make much sense to me. There were also symbols, like the ‘eye on the pyramid’ used on US money.
Dream end
This Old Thing
My wife carries a small Casio calculator in her purse.
Solar-powered, made of black and gold plastic and black vinyl, the calculator folds. When it’s folded, it’s about the size of a credit card and is as thick as two stacked cards. We bought it for a few hundred yen when we lived in Japan on Okinawa between 1981 and 1985.
We used it last night to balance the checkbook. As we finished, we talked to each other about how amazing it was that the little inexpensive still worked. Back then, the yen to dollar ratio was about 234 to 1.
Over forty years later, it’s a little worn but works perfectly. As I reflected on that, I wondered how many other things I’d ever owned that I could say the same about.
Tuesday’s Theme Music — Enduring
Ashland, Oregon — Tuesday, April 28, 2026.
Spring endures in Ashland. 48, blue skies, clouds, sunshine, high in the mid-sixties expected.
Mom endures in her assisted living facility. My sister couldn’t do the things she enumerated yesterday. Mom remains in the assisted living facility and seems agreeable to selling her house. However, she’s trying to manipulate us in other ways, according to my sister. She said Mom wrote a long text that she wanted sis to share with all of us. My sister refused. Life.
My plumbing endures. Mixed results with the plumber yesterday. Both shutoff valves replaced at the toilets, but the plumber felt only one had a leaking wax seal. When he pulled it, lo, the wood under it was soaked. So, wax ring replaced, toilet put back, but now we need to send someone under the house to examine that area. I’ve been under the house; not fun. We have a low, low crawlspace. But I don’t have the expertise needed for this kind of assessment. Thought about using different cameras to see what it looks like. Still noodling that.
Trump endures, too. It is remarkable but many speculate that Trump staged the attempt on him. While Trump blames ‘the left’, he continues to incite hatred and violence toward others while asking that we be nicer to him.
Part of this is that Trump is a documented liar and cheat. He wants to be feared, liked, respected, admired. As part of his ‘weave’, he’ll say anything but that’s shredded his credibility. We know now he makes grandiose promises and bizarre accusations and declarations; it’s all just air.
Doesn’t help, neither, that within hours of the attempt, Trump was calling to build his White House ballroom because, “Security!” But the WHCD was not in the White House. Even if the ballroom had been done, it wouldn’t have affected what happened at the WHCD.
I will also say that even if Cole Tomas Allen left behind a ‘manifesto’ and seems to have a life, Hollywood has convinced me that creating a legend like that is very possible. While I don’t particularly believe the Trump administration is sanguine enough to get it done, there are some high-tech security firms in his corner who could do it. If I believe Hollywood, so could the CIA.
Why not? It’s the age of deep fakes and AI.
With Trump not being held accountable for his lies and behavior, it’ll probably because worse as others attempt to emulate and duplicate his success as a con artist. More troubling is how his actions undermine our trust and belief in authority.
Meanwhile, the squeeze is on U.S. farmers. They’re in a bad situation: diesel is up, fertilizer is up, interest rates are up, available migrant labor is down, and droughts are in the forecast.
Perhaps they will reconsider who they vote for in November.
Your Trump quote of the day:
“Data from the USDA show that soybean exports to China, as of March 19, are about half the amount they were last year.”
Reminder: we’re into the eighth week of the Trump Iran War. He has no exit plan.
Reminder: the Epstein files have not been completely released.
Reminder: Trump’s popularity is declining and prices are rising.
Expect some new Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! breaking news soon.
“Another Brick in the Wall (Part 2)” ended up in my morning mental music stream. So many bricks being put into place between what we were, what we could become. Trump builds walls to divide and separate, keep the poor in misery and empower the wealthy, along with walls against equality, freedom, science, and education.
Hope you end up in the best possible place when this day is finished. Onward.
Cheers
Another White House Dream
This is my sixth recorded white house dream as far as I can tell. Again I’m not talking about the president’s abode.
Middle-aged, I was at my ‘dream home’, a large luxury apartment in very large building. The walls, floors, furniture were all white. It was a very serene, relaxed place. Many windows and sliding doors, several levels, great views of a busy metropolis.
Friends were waiting for me to go out. I was rushing around to get ready. But I was also concerned about calling the plumber; I had to find my phone and call the plumber.
Hurrying around my place, I also seemed to be familiarizing myself with it, even though, in a contrary way, I already knew it. I had my own suite, separate from my wife’s suite, and they were on different levels. My suite featured a large bathroom and sliders to a balcony. Steps from it led to down the building’s common plaza with tables and benches.
While I was dashing, around, one of my friends, H.E., kept texting and calling me, telling me, “Come on.” I kept telling him to just hang on.
Going through one door, I discovered a small room that I hadn’t known about before. It had a sprawling white sofa and several chairs. A few relaxing space, I was astounded to find it. I thought, I never knew this was here, and then thought, I came here to rest.
I then found two other things: a door to a room that was a nursery, and steps going down, which had been blocked off.
I knew I was the ‘original’ owner and figured they’d made those changes and wondered about them.
Back in the main living area, still looking for the phone to call the plumber, I encountered H.E.
H.E. was a large, sort of goofy young guy. I knew him in my dream but he wasn’t anyone from my real life.
I asked him, “How’d you get in here?”
Sheepishly, he replied, “I picked the lock.” Then he urged me to, “Come on.”
I told him, “You shouldn’t have done that. Go on out and wait.”
But he was looking out the window. We had a huge, deep blue community blue. An infinity pool, it took up an entire view of one wall of windows.
The pool really impressed him. I explained what it was, and he kept saying, “That’s so huge and beautiful.”
I agreed. It was very striking against the building’s white surfaces.
H.E. then stepped out to see more of the pool, going to our private patio. Other families were going down to the community plaza space and sitting down to enjoy the sunshine.
I told H.E., “Okay, I’m ready to go.”
Dream end.
Wednesday’s Theme Music – Outs & Ends
Ashland, Oregon — Wednesday, April 22, 2026.
After a day in which the thermometer didn’t press past the low fifties and the sky cried most of the day, we are seeing more of the same. Less sunshine, so it’s chillier, just 44 F now. The high will be 56.
I skimmed through the news but most of it had me saying, meh. More deaths, more politics, more crime and punishment.
Your Trump quotes for today:
Read those Trump quotes and the contradictions they expose, the outright hypocrisy, and the ignorance. Trump can’t be trusted.
BTW, the Epstein files have still not been all released.
I’m out of sorts today so I don’t have much to say. Dave Mason passed away, 78. He’s a musician. Just a few years older than moi, he was part of my musical landscape. He played with many others, wrote some songs with staying power, and had his own act.
When I read the news, his song, “We Just Disagree”, entered the morning mental music stream and stayed. The song came out in 1977. Married, I was alone on assignment in the Philippines with the US Air Force. 21 years old, I was wrestling with adulting basics. Mason’s music was one of my evening companions as I sat in my room, read, drew, and painted between shifts. Hearing of his death brought that music and time sharply back into focus.
Now I look back and think, wow, look at how many years ago. I sweep a mental eye over all of the changes the world has seen since then.
My hope for you is that peace and grace find you and give you the strength to make this day a success for you.
Cheers
