Tag: thinking

Two Dreams

‘I’ wasn’t in this dream, which was more like the ‘television dreams’ which I sometimes experience.

Three people were renting a place together for vacation. One was a gay male. I don’t remember the other two much, as ‘the camera’ mostly focused on him.

It was the vacation’s final day so they were talking about leaving.  The house was cluttered and messy from their time there – pizza boxes and take-out food containers, dishes on counters, etc. They were being vague about what to do but when remembered seeing a move-out checklist. Remembering roughly where it was on the counter, they pulled out a typed-up two-page checklist.

The group began reading from it. One of them took a half-eaten piece of pizza from a box and began eating it, disgusting the others. He mocked them, saying, “It’s only a little old and hard.”

They were then outside, walking back and up toward the vacation place. It had a broad glassed-in overhang above a double garage with a cement drive.

Large, thick tree branches were on the drive on either side. They discussed that the branches probably fell during a storm a few days before. The gay guy wanted to chop up the branches and remove them as a nice gesture. He seemed very excited about doing it while the others hung back. Getting an axe, he lined up a branch to cut it apart and took an ineffectual swing.

Dream end

Second dream…a short time later…

Very messy dream. I was there, and my wife, and others, but many were coming and going. We were preparing to go out, and it seems like we were investigating something but as a social group. I think there was a core of three to give but things were weakly framed.

We were in an apartment. My neighbor, Wade, was in the opposite apartment. We were dressing, and I was dressed first, and was wearing a light gray suit, I think with a light yellow shirt. I remember thinking it odd.

To both kill time and because I had an idea that I thought would help, I went to Wade’s place. I was doing it furtively because I didn’t want the rest to know. I also was ambiguous about being in Wade’s place. He hadn’t given explicit permission, but I felt that he would have if asked. But, that hadn’t been asked, so it felt like a gray area.

But I knew Wade harbored a device to create a sort of document which could help us. I went over to use that. I was trying to be quick but things went wrong and the device wasn’t as easy to use as expected.

While I was in there, another person arrived and ‘caught me’. I explained that it was Wade’s – which they knew – but tried avoiding explaining why I was there, trying to put things back to how they were.

I then went back over to the apartment, where my wife was ready and talking about doing something. Another had some stuff. They said if you shake it over your eyes, it reveals that there are some insects there. My wife was eager to have this done on herself and me, saying that it was something that she wanted to do for a long time and disparaging me because ‘I never wanted to do it’.

The guy came over, told me to close my eyes and kept them closed. He then sprinkled stuff on them and then said, “Oh wow, look how many Michael has.” It was sort of gleeful in a horrified way. I asked, “What do I do about them?”

Then I looked in a mirror. I confirmed some small black insects were crawling around my eyes but I was horrified with how my hair looked. It was wet and sloppy, so I tried fixing it.

I think there was a little more to the dream, but this is what I remember.

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A Chaotic Dream

I read an article in a newspaper, something about prizes being given away, and decided that would be a good idea for my group of friends. I don’t recall prize details but I thought they were practical household goods — but expensive — which some of my friends could use. So I pulled my local friends together and pushed the idea on them, persuading them, “Let’s do this.”

We then got on the phone to call two other couples. We used to live close to each other but they’d moved away. I knew the wives better than their husbands, as I’d known the women first, so I kept forgetting the men’s names when I was on the phone with them.

We ended up at one of the couple’s house. It was a small three-bedroom, two baths California townhouse. Not shabby but cluttered. They were home but the husband wasn’t coming out; I sensed our ‘invasion’ irritated him and felt sort of sad that he lived in a small, cluttered place.

There was a device we were supposed to use in conjunction with this scheme, although the scheme was to call people up or knock on their doors and try to sign them up. The little rectangular device had come apart, so I was trying to fix it. Mostly metal, with a wind-up motor and gears, it also had some small red and yellow pieces, and a body that clipped on it. I continued trying to fix that while talking to others and laughing.

After a long period of aimless conversations, everyone agreed with my idea. One of the guys, a younger Mexican-native American who I worked with before, came to me and told me my assignment was to go sign up three new customers. I declined, explaining, “I’m not a salesperson. My role is to organize and oversee.”

He accepted that but seemed glum. I finished fixing the little device and put it together, telling him, “Look, I fixed it.” I felt very proud of that, vindicated because ‘I knew I could do it’.

I then asked him what the matter because his energy seemed low, then guessed that he was facing discrimination from his boss. He confirmed that, adding, “It’s others, too.” We spoke about that a little bit more.

Another friend came in to tell me my wife was missing. She said she’d gone to bed but she wasn’t in her bed. I went and checked on her; she was in bed. I told her that others checked on her, but she wasn’t there and asked where she’d been. Crossly, she replied, “I had to go to the bathroom.”

I went back out and told my friends about the exchange, then I again went looking for my wife. This time, I went outside and up the street. We were in a suburban neighborhood. I found her sitting on a lawn chair on someone’s walk to their front door. Sprinkler systems were on, watering large, lush green front yards.

My wife was younger and laughing, though she was alone. She pointed out this kitten. Tail straight up, it was an odd tarnished gold color and was prancing around. My wife said that it’s a stray but she was very fond of the cat and had been watching it for a while.

Dream end

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The Building Dream

I was in a dark building, but then was outside it, adjacent to it. The building was red brick but I didn’t see much of it. I don’t know what I was doing there. The whole thing seemed murky.

A woman who reminded me of one of my sisters approached and told me, “I can do this.”

I thought, do what? What is going on here?

She then proceeded to quickly build a piece of wall of horizontal wooden planks painted dark forest green.

How the hell is that going to do anything, I thought. What is she up to?

She put her dark green construction up against the red brick facade. I saw then, it was shaped exactly to fit in that space, including the angle for the roof. Further, the brick building had a slot, and she’d included a tongue which fit in there.

I was impressed but still didn’t know what was going on, or why.

Then, though, I knew whatever she was doing was working. That just floored me.

Then she complained, “Oh, no, there’s a problem. Something got away from me.”

Trying to understand that, I got up and looked over the top of her green wall. Beyond it, I saw broad, deep blue water.

I also saw a little bug flying toward me. “Is that it?” I asked. She was talking more but I couldn’t hear her. I tried talking more loudly but she kept talking.

The bug was coming on. Now I saw, mosquito. Was that the bug she meant?

Dream end.

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A Car Dream

My wife and I were our current age and traveling in her 2003 Gray Focus. I was driving.

We stopped somewhere to eat. It looked like a good choice but after we began looking around more, it turned out to be a mess. Tables were set up as if they were in a fine dining room but it was outdoors, on uneven fields of uncut grass. Many other people were just like us, trying to figure out WTH was going on.

My wife was very hungry and said, “Screw this, I’m just getting some food.” Then she stalked through the grass, where the food was in silver serving bowls among  the clumps of grass. Finding some food, she took it to a table.

I was trying to tell her, “Wait, I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

A harried young male waiter hustled to her, asking for her order. She replied, “I’m eating this.”

The waiter turned to me and asked, “What are you ordering?”

I was bewildered. “I don’t know what’s available. Where’s the menu?”

But as I looked around, I saw another family doing as my wife did. Noticing scrambled eggs in a bowl on the ground and a red plate, I picked them up and said, “I’m having this.”

The waiter looked both dejected and smug. Writing something on a pad, he left.

Eating some of our food but not happen with it, my wife and I returned to her car. It was cold outside by then, so I started the car to warm us up. I noticed ice inside the car and told her, “Look how cold it got.” Then I opened windows to let the ice out and continued running the engine to warm the car and clear the windows.

The dream ended on a view of us in her little gray car, waiting for the windows to clear.  

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Ashland, Oregon – Saturday, February 28, 2026. An uninspiring flat gray tam caps the valley. We’ve reached February’s end and we’re cruising toward spring with 60 F as our high, up from the present 46. Rain is expected.

Our snowbank is at 41% of normal as they label our winter a snow drought. Fingers crossed that nature isn’t finished with the area’s snow deliveries or it’ll be a dry summer — unless that season changes and becomes wet.

Sis reports Mom has a roommate and is not happy. Her new roomie ‘poops on the toilet seat’ and then uses Mom’s wipes to clean up. Apparently, Mom had been settling in and considered herself happy until the roomie arrived.

Sis’s car was rearended yesterday. Nobody was hurt, the damage was mild, and the other driver took full responsibility. But the accident dinged sis’s mood. However, a bouquet of flowers was delivered to her as a four-year anniversary thank you, lifting her spirits again.

My wife and I both seem over our colds at last. Just mild coughing, thin and unproductive, struck this morning. My respiratory system seems clear and my breathing is well.

Looking at the news, I was pleased that the Senate again denied the SAVE Act to pass. The law was aimed to burden voters to provide identification, making it harder to vote. Trump and his allies suggest that it’s to stop voter fraud. Studies have actually shown that there is little voter fraud in national U.S. elections.

Trump and Israel ordered more strikes against Iran, killing more than 80 people. These attacks were part of a campaign to pressure Iran to stop its nuclear weapons program. That’s interesting, as Trump claimed attacks he ordered last summer obliterated Iran’s nuclear program.

Last in the news arena, the hypocrisy levels of justice hit new highs this week. Hillary Clinton testified about her ‘relationship’ with Jeffrey Epstein: don’t know him, never met him. Nor is there evidence to the contrary. Melania Trump was photographed with Epstein. Her name appears in emails, an address-book entry, and a 2002 message to Ghislaine Maxwell, along with third-party claims and materials such as photographs and third‑party claims. She has yet to be called to testify.

As usual with these shows, little concerns were expressed about the Epstein files victims.

With this as my backdrop, The Neurons dropped “Thin Lizzy” into the morning mental music stream with “Don’t Believe A Word”. Offering a nice bluesy tone, the song plays with the idea of what’s said to produce results, suggesting, that’s why what’s said can’t be trusted.

Lyrics h/t AZLyrics.com

Don’t believe me if I tell you
That I wrote this song for you
There just might be
Some other silly pretty girl
I’m singing to

Don’t believe a word
For words are so easily spoken
And your heart is just like that promise
Made to be broken

I hope you believe me when I say, I wish you have a joyous and safe, comfortable day. I raise my coffee to you and your prospects.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Thursday, February 26, 2026. Today is 02262026, February’s final Thursday. Two more days and February of 2026 will be history.

Ashland finds itself encased in fog with temperatures ranging from 39 F to 45 and a high in the mid-fifties called for once again.

Texts regarding Mom were non-existent today. Some suggest this is the quiet before the next storm. I agree, that’s probably true. I think Mom will again try to return home, insisting that she can live without anyone else there. All we can do is wait and see at this point.

Results for my comprehensive metabolic panel and tests for Hep B came back with no abnormal findings or Hep B indicators, a major change from the last CMP, done right before my gallbladder was removed last November.

I met with friends for beers last night. Someone turned to the conversation to Iran and the U.S. military buildup. Specifically, it was asked, what are the odds that Trump will order bombing to being in the next 30 days?

Four broad suggestions emerged from the conversation.

  1. Trump will not ordering bombing Iran until right before the midterms to generate the most political capital.
  2. The U.S. forces are there as financial leverage for Jared Kushner’s dealings and will withdraw without bombings once Jared has a better deal.
  3. Bombing will probably commence in less than 30 days because Trump is impatient.
  4. It depends now on what happens with Cuba.

That last was in response to the recent news that Cuba shot and killed four Americans in a speedboat in Cuba’s territorial waters. Cuba said that the Americans fired first. Trump’s response will be interesting, as he tends to strike to get revenge for American deaths, doing so with a heavy hand.

For music, The Neurons plugged King Crimson into the morning mental music stream. I’m hearing “21st Century Schizoid Man”, a real callback to my youth. The song was released when I was a teenager. Its intensity captivated me, and that intensity feels owned today. I had a terrific writing/editing day yesterday — best since my oral surgery weeks earlier this month.

I last used this song seven years ago. One commented that they’d never heard of it; two others cited the group and album as a favorite but mentioned that they didn’t like this song.

I hope you have safe and productive Thursday and can groove toward the weekend with new hope.

Cheers

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On Mom

If I come and visit

Will you know my face

Will you talk to me

Like your son

Or lace your words with hate

Will your texts ever change

From anger and demands

Will you stand and hug me

As you kiss my head

Can we sit and laugh

Remembering what we ate

Playing games of Tripoli

Hoping for a good hand

Or will you stare

Not speaking

Leaving me

In silence

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