Tag: thinking

Five Short Dreams

Experienced five short dreams last night. That’s contrary to recent habits which had long, meandering dreams. I’ll only bore you with one.

This was military related. I was tasked with retrofitting a secure file cabinet fitted with a combination lock to ensure it could store Top Secret/Special Compartmentalized Information, along with Communications Security items (COMSEC), militaryese for code books. Some old military guy was half-heartedly overseeing my activity. Meanwhile, I was on shift with a young member. I expected the young airman to handle all the day’s routine events but had to address that with him several times, issuing reminders to complete the shift checklist, inventory our weapons, standard Air Force command post stuff during my career.

Then I attacked the file cabinet. It’d been previously cleared for classified but wasn’t considered robust enough for our new needs. I’d never done anything like this and lacked instructions. Pulling out drawers, I saw a sort of white, thick lining on them. I needed to pry that out, I decided, and hunted down a hammer, along with a large screwdriver, to pry the stuff out. But then, lo, when I went to apply the brute force and leverage, the pieces slipped right out.

I thought that would be the hard part and was delighted it went so well. Then, though, I had to do paperwork to document this thing’s new existence and use. I had the proper forms but someone had marked all over them and it wasn’t clear to me what to do.

As I puzzled that out, that old military guy came in and queried me about how it was going. I related that I’d finished the safe part. Somehow a crowd gathered to one side. The old guy boasted that he could probably crack the vault in less than three minutes and proceeded to make that effort. I drifted away from that effort to finish the paperwork, deciding, make a decision and do the best I can.

Dream end

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A Dream of An Uncle

Don’t know what’s in my water. Dreams continue rolling through me. This one featured a deceased but appreciated and missed Uncle. Died of a brain tumor ’bout a decade ago or so. He was one of those people who always demonstrated belief in what I could do and pride in when I do things, a good person to have around when you’re young and feeling your way.

We were at a celebration. Seemed to be a family birthday party. My uncle was hosting. He was young, energetic, and charming, the perpetual image contained in my memories of him, sunglasses covering his eyes, teeth clamped on a cigar. Don’t know who the party was for. Seemed like cousins were there. Weird thing is, it seemed to be held in a Japan or Mexico.

It came time for the cake. That was prepared for a local bakery. My uncle asked if anyone could pay for it. Yes, I volunteered; I can. I scrambled to find the money, just $25. Impatiently, he left, and went to get the cake. Finding the money at last, I rushed after him, encountering him as he left the store. “I have the money,” I told him.

“Too late,” he replied. “I paid.”

He seemed sad, disappointed. I suggested that I could pay the shopkeeper and he could give my uncle his money back. The shopkeeper, watching and listening in this tiny establishment, agreed. No, my uncle decided. It’d be too complicated. What’s done is done.

End

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Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

Starbucks hurt my feelings.

They spent capital convincing us that Starbucks cared about the community. More, they cared about people. They opened their doors to homeless folks. Come in and rest. Be safe, comfortable, warm, dry, cool. Charge your phones here! Use our restrooms! We care! They put out announcements telling us that they want people to come and stay, make it a place to meet, a place to be. And we believed them. We did.

As did the homeless. I’d see them trickle in each day, a regular group I came to know by name. I learned their preferred seating locations, treated them to food and/or drink from time to time, said hello, chatted about the hot dry days, the freezing fog, the traffic, dogs, etc. Chatted about life.

Then Starbucks swiveled. That campaign wasn’t reaping the benefits they’d hoped to get. Within days, the restroom doors were locked and coded. Had to ask for the number at the counter. The homeless were politely shooed out, police called if they resisted.

Then, though, oh, look at the numbers. Starbucks decided they needed to close the place they’d encouraged us to make a home away from home, a community center for everyone and anyone. It just wasn’t making enough money.

It feels like it’s a betrayal. It’s not. Just business as usual. And that’s the thing about corporations. It’s all about making money. Profits and losses.

It’s not about humanity. That’s just strategy. Don’t let them fool you into thinking otherwise.

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Old Friend in A Store: A Dream

I woke up with an old friend in mind.

Was he still alive?

Would he still be my friend?

We were high-school classmates. Graduated in 1974. I haven’t seen him since 1979, when I was home from the military. He was a good friend for the times, at the time. But we have all changed, haven’t we?

I dreamed I encountered Keith at a store. Don’t know what kind of store. We were both the young people we were in high school. Someone else was with him, hanging back in the shadows, behind him. I don’t know who they were. Keith told me he was running for office. I was very surprised. Keith, reserved, a little shy, with a sharp mind and a dry sense of humor, didn’t seem destined for politics. I asked why he was doing that. He gave me a detailed response about problems he’d had with several local businesses. He’d felt cheated but everything the businesses had done were legal, so he was running for office so he could change things. As he gave his response, he showed me his phone, where there were records and newspaper and media articles about the businesses and Keith’s issues. I said something about him using his phone as evidence. He replied, “Good lord, no. I have too much porn on it to ever show anyone my phone.”

Dream end.

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A Dream of Cougars

Sunset was turning the day into a purple cloud darkness. I was getting into a large, shiny black SUV. My wife was with me, and some others, but they’re unknown. As the mechanics of starting the vehicle and guiding it out of a parking lot to a road was finished, I realized that something was on the vehicle’s front end. That something progressed fast from ‘something’ to a full-grown cougar. With that registering, I stopped the car and told the rest what I saw, then stepped out of the vehicle to cautiously approach the animal. Alive, it clung to the front with its claws. I told it, “Shoo.” To my amazement, the cougar departed its space, trotting away from me, amusing, mysterious, bewildering.

Returning to the vehicle, I drove for some time. Arriving somewhere during daytime, my wife and I left the vehicle to shop in some little stores. Not particularly interested in shopping, I found a cushioned bench where I sat. Feeling drowsy, I laid down to nap. I awoke after some unknown time because a small stripped tabby cat was curled up against me and purring in my ear. Fully awake, I put and scratched the sweet, loving animal. It trotted off, tail high, after a short time.

My wife came and I told her what happened. She was marginally interested, annoying me. We went out and found ourselves on the top tier of a large sports arena. Some football game was underway. I gathered this was a college or university. Skirting the game, my wife and I went down to register for classes. When I walked into the administration building, a large cougar leaped into my arms and held onto me. I was so astonished and a little wary but the animal wasn’t threatening. After some seconds of holding the cougar as it held me, a female administrator came by and told the animal to leave me alone, which it did, trotting off down a hall, disappearing through an open door.

After talking about classes, my wife and I, accompanied by a female friend, went out to walk some trails that crossed the campus. These took us into some small, rocky mountains. The day grew hot under a bright sun. My wife decided to sit and rest. I went on a bit. Looking back, I saw that she’d fallen asleep so I laid down to nap. I took off my pants, leaving me in a shirt and underwear, but covered myself with a light blanket. The friend came up. She teased and flirted with me, suggesting she wanted to join me. While I rejected her, I also wanted her, and found the entire encounter intensely erotic.

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A Free Food Dream Adventure

I was in a store with friends. This clean, mostly white, and well-lit place was like a fancy grocery store. No friends from real life were present but the people there were all known to me as friends. I knew that we were there for the second time. The first time, we’d made minor purchases. Liking the place, we returned to buy more.

So, we’re in line to pay, and we’re comparing how much our purchases will probably cost. Most of what we’re buying is food, especially cheese and bread, it seems like. The owner, a young and petite white woman with black curly hair and red lips, is behind a counter ringing up purchases.

I estimate to my friends that I’m buying several hundred dollars of food. Then it’s my turn and I step up to pay but the owner waves me off. She tells me that she knows who I am, that I’m a writer that she admires, and that she loves my books. I’m perplexed as I’ve only self-published a few books and had a few stories sold, so I tell her that I think she’s thinking of someone else. No, she insists, she knows me, knows who I am, and I will never need to pay for anything in her store. Her insistence stirs guilt in me; that’s not the way the system is supposed to work. I’m also flattered but doubtful. We talk more; she stays on point. I surrender and walk out without paying.

Dream end.

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Twozdaz Wandering Thoughts

The coffee shop is pretty damn full.

I’m in RoCo. It’s my new favorite coffee place, an old house converted to a business on the corner of 8th Avenue and East Main Street.

Every table is in use. Many regulars are in attendance. Like me, at a table, computer open. My eyes and ears are open even as I read, think, and type. Wonderful community and social energies swirl through the room like a strong, happy breeze. I love the noise and action, enjoy looking up at the faces, glancing at the fashion.

Most clients are, ahem, ‘my age’. They look like, ahem, boomers, like me. I’ll be seventy next year. I think I’m in the middle of the age spectrum here. Sure, there are so younger outliers. Teenagers who look like they’re wearing colorful fleece pajamas come in as pairs, order, take their stuff and leave. A few twenty-somethings, thirtyish, and fortyish folks are partaking of drink and food, chatting with others, reading, so forth. Hoka shoes are spotted on many, the shoes of my people. Columbia sportwear and Patagonia dominates. They’re the clothes of my tribe, but this is Oregon, where some of that stuff is produced, and where Columbia is headquartered, up north, west of Portland. Two children, about ten, are also present with an older woman. The children are on ice cream on this chilly, foggy, autumn day. The weather doesn’t daunt them from enjoying a cold but sweet treat.

The baristas take orders, prepare, and serve, all laughing and chatting as they do. Regulars come in and get greeted by name, including Sugar the dog, who waves their tail in happiness and await their standard treat.

Sunshine has burst through outside. Cold air storms me as the doors open and close. This is the United States, Oregon, Ashlandia, in 2025.

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Satyrdaz Wandering Thoughts

“My name is Brenda,” I said, with a touch of happy humor.

My current coffee haunt is RoCo. The local Food Co-Op owns RoCo. Members of the co-op, we get a dividend back from the co-op at the year’s end. And guess what? All you need to do is give the RoCo barista your name and number. That’s what I was doing.

“Is Brenda your wife, Michael?” Kat asked.

“Yes.” I released a small scoff. “The funny thing is, she doesn’t go by Brenda. She uses a name that she made up a long time ago, so it always makes us laugh when we reveal our account name.”

Kat grinned through the entire tale. “I like that.”

It’s the small things which give us spirit, innit?

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Fridaz Wandering Thoughts

Mom and sis are coping and adjusting, per usual. Mom is an interesting case. When she’s doing well, she’s happy on her own. When she’s doing poorly, she gets crabby and wants visitors. But her crabbiness repels people, so they stay away. Not a good dynamic.

So many things must be tended for Mom. The emptying and cleaning of her house, of course, and then putting it on the market. Those are expected, straightforward, but work. The matters causing the most headaches and frustrations are these modern matters. Changing phone plans because Mom’s phone was on Frank’s plan. Canceling her internet and cable. Those things were done online, through passwords and account numbers and usernames and things like that. Mom has it written down but it’s all been changed so many times because they changed systems or the passwords expired, or it didn’t work for God knows why, as Mom would say.

Then there are the prescription drugs. Sam’s Club is Mom’s pharmacy. Frank was her delivery system. Now sis is her delivery system, but sis doesn’t have the time to make regular runs like Frank did. These things can be delivered but the co-pay must be paid for. Does Mom have a credit card on file? Yes, she does, she says, no, you don’t, the pharmacy replies. Back and forth they go, driving sis insane.

It all makes me think. Mom is but twenty years older than me, and the way my health is trending…LOL. I think, I must be better prepared. Sure, passwords are written down and secured but they must be found by whoever is taking care of me at that point.

Maybe it’ll be AI or a bot assisting me by that point. A Medibot. Watching AI and bots in action at this stage, though, I’m not reassured. Maybe, maybe, they’ll have it worked out in twenty years.

Time will tell. Always does, doesn’t it?

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Thirstdaz Wandering Political Thoughts

Paul Krugman consistently writes about the Trumpcession vibes.

Trumpcession vibes are a feeling that things are worse than hard data shows us. My wife and I feel it. Not all of it has to do with Trump. We were forced to change home insurance companies last year because our previous company said they no longer wanted to insure homes in our region because of fires. So that price increased substantially. Electricity prices have gone up. Food prices are up. Coffee prices are up. Gasoline. Some of this is related to Trump’s trade policies and tariffs, and some prices are affected by weather and climate change. The world is complicated. We can make the case that Trump isn’t doing anything about climate change except mocking anyone worried about it, so in that way he’s causing prices increases.

Our household’s Trumpcession vibes arise because we don’t trust Trump to tell the truth. By extension, we don’t trust anyone in his regime to tell the truth, nor any of his supporters. Evidence has been presented that Trump Regime members and their supporters will lie heavily and frequently to make Trump look good. Couple that distrust in them with the soft data of what’s going on, and yes, we have Trumpcession vibes. For instance, how can SNAP benefits be cut without doing damage to the economy? Can’t. The SNAP cuts affect my state, Oregon, and my state government’s ability to help the homeless and needy. The state’s inability to help locally affects our local agencies and governments’ ability to help. From our point of view, it’s all a giant snowball rolling down a steep mountain, gaining speed and momentum, and coming fast. It’s going to be a big mess when that snowball finally slams into the world. That’s how we feel in our household.

It doesn’t help anything that Trump keeps lying about prices and tariffs. Trump insists against the evidence presented that everything is cheaper and getting better. And he lies to convince everyone that he’s telling the truth. But he has a deep history of lying and cheating. Like the boy who cried wolf, we just don’t believe Trump much any longer.

Trump’s Inflation Spin Backfires as Costs Spike Again

I ‘like’ how the story gives Trump the benefit of the doubt and calls Trump’s lies ‘inflation spin’. That’s part of the problem. The media and pundits often sugarcoat the crap that Trump does. Some of that sugarcoating is because Trump, the eternal child-bully, threatens anyone who criticizes him with lawsuits or other punishment, no matter how valid the criticism is.

In other news, Stephen Miller has been speaking out of his ass.

Truth be told, Miller is just mindlessly echoing what Trump mindlessly spews.

Trump calls Democrats who told US military to refuse illegal orders ‘traitors’ who could face death penalty

I’ll be damned. Trump does sometimes tell the truth:

And for those who are always throwing bothsiderisms at the wall to see if they’ll stick, a timely reminder has arrived that the two sides are not the same.

Finally, in response to this Trump rant, we respond…

QUIET, PIGGY!

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