Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Well, I dreamed my wife was driving the car. I was in the back seat of this dark green sedan beast. Weird, I was standing while my wife was sitting, sawing at the giant steering wheel. But my head was at her level. Oddly, the steering wheel was on the right, counter to the usual U.S. practice of having the wheel on the left side.
A gorgeous woman with a low top and cleavage displayed was on the seat behind me, wholly exciting me with her presence, trying to entice me to join her. I’m like, “That’s nuts!” My wife is driving us to either shopping or school. Note from the real-life side, my wife only drives me when my physical condition warrants it.
We stop. I climb out from the back seat. I ask my wife, “Where are we?” It seems familiar, like a beach we’ve visited but no beach is in sight. Instead, white pieces are all over the place.
I pick a few white pieces up with some WTF-self quizzing. They seem bigger than they were. At first, I thought them to be building blocks like the kind children use. Instead, these are as large as shoe boxes, but they’re light. Hardly weigh anything at all.
They’re all over the place, like wreckage. I can’t imagine what happened to cause it. Hurricane? Tornado? Both are feasible but what were the pieces part of and where were they before? I’m looking around, trying to place that.
A whim drives me to collect pieces. After doing that, I realize they can be put together and stacked as a wall. Amused, I do this for a bit. Finding and gathering more pieces, I put together corners, doorways, windows without much effort. I’ve been working a while in bright sunshine, a warm breeze coming along as a visitor. I was sweating and then realized I didn’t see my wife or the car. A little thinking about that progressed but I returned to my building effort. I wondered as I did if this thing I was building was strong enough to stand, and wondered, why am I even doing this? It seemed crazy.
Two other crazy aspects emerged as I worked. The building changed, becoming a real place. I was at once sure that I’d built it but also certain that I’d never done all the things I was seeing. Second, the day seemed to be progressing enormously slowly. I took some time to contemplate where the sun was, trying to think back to where it’d been when I began, but I couldn’t come up with any answer.
That’s where the dream ended.
Sunshine abounds outside the hotel window. It’s up to 38 F, a rise from the 32 it was when I took an early morning walk. Didn’t feel that cold when I walked. I wasn’t out long. Maybe that’s all part of how the weather ‘feels’.
It’s October 26, 2025, the day of Mom’s birthday do. We visited her yesterday. Early hours found her sleepy, lethargic, sluggish. She wrapped herself in a blanket, put her feet up, and napped in her wheelchair. A few sixties later, she was lively and alert, and gobbled down a couple pieces of pizza.
Which delivers me to this morning’s music. We visited Mom’s house yesterday, our third swing by it to pick up things for Mom. The inside was in disarray, partly from Frank’s fail, but added by Mom’s bug out to sister’s house, and Frank’s family descending to grab and remove anything that might of been of value that belonged to Frank. I tidied a bit but then stepped out. A storm had swept through a few months ago, wrecking the side porch and taking down trees and branches. It looked so starkly different, like a forecast of the emptiness that was coming to the house.
All that in me head, and The Neurons responded, “Time, time, time, look what you’ve done to me.” Just like that, The Bangles’ cover of the Simon & Garfunkel offering, “A Hazy Shade of Winter”, rolled through the mental music stream, staying strong into the morning.
Off to Mom’s old house to pick up more necessities. May peace and grace leaped up and grab you in a bear hug and hold on tight. Cheers
I’ve lived without a computer before. It actually wasn’t terrible. Yes, I’m now spoiled. Personal computers have been life changing.
But jump back to 1982. I was in the U.S. Air Force, stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa, an island that belongs to Japan. Commodore’s VIC 20 had us abuzz about computers. While we could easily see how it would make many things easier, shopping wasn’t yet on the menu. Nor was getting news updates. It was only toward the end of 1983 that I began learning about the concepts of ‘bulletin boards’, the Internet, and the worldwide web.
So back then, we watched television. Movies were watched via VHS tapes. That was the latest, greatest tech move for us, and such devices were still running close to $1,000. But we had one to help us weather the lack of entertainment inherent in being overseas. Remember, this was before satellite TV, too, for all practical purposes. All that stuff was just coming out, as were microwave ovens. They were also huge, bulky, expensive machines, but we purchased on of those, as well.
It’s hard to believe how fast everything changed. In late 1983, I bought my first CD player. It played one CD at a time. Returning to the U.S. from Japan, we gave our VHS player to my wife’s parents, and bought ourselves a new, smaller one with more features, including a remote control. That was the same year that I bought my first computer, a small but heavy Kaypro. Running at 4.77 megahertz, with a tiny green screen, it ran on CP/M and offered minimal RAM and two floppy drives that used 5 1/4 inch disks. It was a wild scene. We learned how to add RAM, make things faster, and double our floppy disks’ storage. Ten megahertz machines were being touted as possibilities, along with 64K of RAM and a 5-meg hard drive and 16 color monitors! Wow!
Back before that, we read. A lot. Books were checked out from the library, and research was done at the library. I subscribed to multiple magazines, such as Writer’s Digest, Autoweek, and Road & Track. Went for walks, played sports, read newspapers, which were delivered daily. When I lived in San Antonio, Texas, I subscribed to both the San Antonio Light and the Wall Street Journal. Even with the computer and VHS player coming along, and the CD player, and DVD players, most of that didn’t change. We still visited malls to shop, and used Sears and Spiegel catalogues to make orders, calling in to toll free numbers to put the order in. Board games like Risk, Life, and Monopoly were popular with us, along with Trivial Pursuit, and card games like Tripoli and King on the Corner, and Solitaire.
No, the big change came when the Internet finally fired up. My experience with it began in 1991, when I came back from Germany. Slow as hell, to be sure. Connections through modems which had to be hooked up. LOL. That changed fast, too, as built-in modems came along. I was both a Compuserve and AOL subscriber. Email was a new, exciting idea.
Then, suddenly we went to 256 colors and beyond on our monitors. The mouse became popular. 100 megahertz machines were being sold. I remembered buying and installing a 100-meg hard drive, and laughing. How was I ever going to use that much storage? It seemed so excessive. By then, our floppy drives were down to three-inch little colorful things. Now, we’re like, floppy drive? What the heck is that?
Going online was a wild scene back in the mid 1990s. Weren’t many websites in those early days. The games were something else. Research, news, and sports all became much more accessible. Then, boom…social media. That’s when things really flipped.
I’ve gone a few days in 2025 without my computer and without the Internet. Like before, we read, played games, and went for walks.
Just like it was 1982, just forty years ago, when I was younger, and so was the personal computer.
I was with two others. We were on a black and white train. Very long but familiar, I never knew the train’s entirety but understood that it was a bullet train.
Coming into a station, I covertly leaped from the train. My goal was door 503. Reaching it, I slipped in, grabbed a syringe, and hurried back out. Outside, I looked around for authorities. With none seen, I tossed the syringe to my compatriot. With the syringe caught, he went into a train compartment. I knew he was administering something from the syringe. Impatiently, I urged him, hurry, worrying about being discovered, concerned about the train leaving the station.
My other companion came out with the syringe. He threw it back to me. I caught it and returned it to room 503, then managed to jump onto the train as it began moving. I thought I saw a soldier or police agent watching me. When I turned for a better look, they were gone.
Back in the train, my companions and I found each other and went to a private place to speak. Ensuring we were alone, one companion, younger, but white like me, with like dark, curly hair, gave an update. The shot had helped. More is still needed. I related that I thought I saw someone spying on me, and that worried me. After discussing risks, we concluded that we’d still need to get more for our friend. We’d need to be more careful, more watchful.
The train pulled into the next stop. One of my friends and I stepped off the train. The police presence was immense. We gave one another furtive, questioning looks. With time ticking, I decided to risk getting the syringe with the realization that we might not be able to get it back into the room. If that happened, the loss could be discovered. That would probably result in greater vigilance and security. All that troubled me.
I hurried away, looking for room 503. Just as I found it, I spotted a police officer following. Pretending to go elsewhere, I stole away to watch and wait for an opening. When the officer turned away, I hustled to 503. Breaking in, I grabbed a syringe and ran back out.
My companion was not in sight. Police were. I hid the syringe and fretted. At last I saw one of the others. With a glance around, I tossed the syringe to him.
He fumbled the catch. I gasped in horror, worries skyrocketing through me. He managed to find and pick up the syringe and then scurried away. The train issued a warning sound that it was time to go.
Dream end
Watch the spiral
Sigh and mourn
Think about all that’s happened
Since the day you were born
Remember the places
Where you visited and stayed
The people you played with
The ones who led the way
And the music that you knew
How you sang and played along
Never quite realizing
That time would soon be gone
You lived like it was forever
Sometimes you still do
Thinking about the past and future
Wondering about what is true
I feel like I’m on the edge. See, I’ve been writing a novel manuscript. Almost at the end, confrontations are underway. It’s tense and violent. I don’t want to stop writing, but —
Yes, life is littered with buts, those interruptions to intents and purposes. Several buts are engaging me. First, honestly, is my derriere, aka, my butt. I’ve been sitting and typing for about 80 minutes straight, and my butt is crying, “Up, damn you, up. Give me a break.” It’s classic writer’s butt.
My stomach is also complaining that it’s been too long since food was introduced to my mouth. And my coffee is cold. Just two swallows remain.
A war, then, is raging between the Writing Neurons and the Practical Neurons. The Writers want to stay and keep writing. “Damn it, man, you’re on a roll. Don’t stop now.” But the Practicals are urging, “Go get food. Run errands. Get other things done.”
The final piece of it all is time, though. Time is the empress. Much as I want to keep writing, I have real-world commitments to fulfill. So how do I feel?
Well, resigned to the inevitable brought on by the buts.
Michael Seidel, writer 