Tag: travel

An Unsettling Dream

I didn’t know what to make of this offering last night from the Dream Neurons.

It was another military dream. I was in this crowded location. Nothing about it was wholly clear. A senior NCO, I looked like myself from my last years in the military before I retired.

As I say, very crowded. Mostly officers. Mostly Air Force, but a few from the others services were present.

Narrow room. Seemed like an operations center but none of the typical comm gear and crypto was in sight.

My commander, a colonel and short, blonde woman who looked remarkably like Sandi Toksvig, cornered me. “I have to go out,” she said. “Keep an eye out for those guys.” I knew which guys she meant. They were basically rogue, either on a mission they’re weren’t supposed to be on, or away without authorized leave.

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“If thy show up, and we think they will, immediately call security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and I vaguely wandered about the place. It didn’t take long for the missing men to show. All were tall, young, and fit. None were in uniform.

All of my officers were pleased to see them. A generally jovial spirit emerged as my guys greeted the new guys. An impromptu party seemed in the making.

But I had to do my duty. It was going to be ugly because everyone else were overjoyed with the rogue guys’ presence. That put me in some emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. But it had to be done.

So, I balked. I told the senior officer present what had transpired between the commander and me, and the directions to call security on the rogues. He listened, displeased. I finished, “I’m calling security, but I didn’t want it to be a surprise.”

He spread the news to the rest. Their expressions darkened. Sullen silence soon prevailed. I made the call.

The rogues slipped out as soon as I called. The officers immediately began disparaging me. The senior officers and a few others defended me; I was following orders. Doing my duty. That little mollified them or me.

The senior officer, one other officer, and I left for the airport. We were walking and meant to be going on some duty travel. I ran into my commander and informed her about what’d transpired. She told me, “Good job, you did what was needed.” We seperated.

I caught up with my traveling companions at the airport. It was a chaotic mess. Remaining outside we milled with others, trying to learn where to go for our flight. While that was going on, a gigantic giraffe loomed over the top of the trees.

Excited children pointed at it and shouted. I stared, incredulous. The animal was bigger than what I thought was normal for a giraffe. Also, WTF was a giraffe doing at an airport? Also, the giraffe looked fake, like it was made of aluminum and then painted. Who would do that?

We found our flight and boarded. There weren’t any seats. All of us were forced to stand. That was okay because the flight was over in an eyeblink.

We began disembarking. The senior officer sketched his plans and then asked me, “And what are you going to do?” in a booming voice.

I replied, “Whatever you need me to do, sir.”

“Do what you want. Just don’t nuke anyone.”

Weird thing to say, I thought. “I won’t, sir.”

Dream end.

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A Dream Shard

Hearing something — can’t even saw what it was — today when I was in the coffee shop writing, I suddenly see a forgotten dream from last night. Really, just a shard. First person personal point of view, I’m driving in a car along a winding country highway. Leafy green trees blur by on either side. It sometimes seems like someone is with me but that’s inconsistent. I mostly seem to be alone.

Everything is going smoothly. I’m on a long road trip. Ahead is where I’m going to leave the country highway and jump onto the Interstate. The first road is climbing and turning. I split off. Cresting a ridge, the on-ramp veers left and goes down a steep hill and into intense banking as the ramp joins the Interstate and the Interstate goes left. Sunshine bathes the cars and roadway.

I won’t be on this road long, just a few miles. As I hit the banked curve and merge with the traffic, I press the brake pedal and recognize, I’m not slowing. Speed picks up despite greater pressure on the pedal. I announce, “I don’t have any brakes.” Someone in the other seat replies, “What?”

I repeat what I said and lean their way. But no one occupies the seat. I mutter, “I’m not on the road long. My exit is just ahead.” I can see it, a long, lean hill that ends at an intersection with a traffic light. “But I’m going to need to stop. I’ll add some brake fluid when I can. I think that’ll fix it. First, though, I need to stop.”

The car hits the exit ramp. It’s flying over bumps. Grinning, beginning to laugh, I kick out the floorboard. “Just do it like Fred Flintstone.” I put my feet down onto the cement road. Pressing the soles down with all my strength, I drag the car to a stop.

Dream end.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood:

Good day to you from Ashlandia, where the road construction continues as we move into autumn’s waters.

It’s 9/11, and you know what that means in 2023. It’s also a Monday. Everyone will be looking back on the 9/11 part. We’ve already had 60Minutes do it. No doubt, that brave journalistic effort will be repeated with solemn broadcasts across the country. Some will probably speculate, could 9/11 happen in America today? Others will remember how the tragedy ‘brought the country together’. More will point out that many of the security measures installed after 9/11 were kneejerk reactions that created the cumbersome Homeland Security. Another faction will discuss the intelligence failures and whether we’ve fixed that while more pundits will write that, noting how Americans reacted to fear, the GOP has seized on fear as their Big Tool for getting voters’ attention and scaring them into supporting the GOP. The GOP will blow things out of proportion and flat lie to that end in these days. We have the videos.

So, first, a correction; I’d seen a weather report that said we were going to be climbing into the upper nineties in our area. I don’t know if I imagined that or if they changed it, but that’s all gone. We’re going to stay mostly in the 80s F. Today we’re at 60 F and we’ll hit 82 F. It’s good tedium to have these manageable, predictable temps.

Sirens are going by down on the main road. I listen and wonder about the story behind them. They stop abruptly; I listen and watch to see if they come up our street. Muses in me automatically created a speculative vignette about what’s going on. My rational mind wonders, what type of vehicle is driving that siren. Worries about fires and friends butterfly around my head.

Flying out tomorrow, so we have prep work underway today. Packing, final cleaning, final coordination with the house/floof sitter. She’s a good friend and good person who enjoys floofs. We’re lucky to have her. It’ll be a day of traveling tomorrow, beginning pre-dawn thirty, flying across the nation from left coast to where the three rivers meet in western Pennsylvania. We’ll be there a while with a wedding in the middle of the visit this weekend.

The Neurons are feeding “A Day in the Life” by les Beatles (1967) into the morning mental music stream (Trademark in jeopardy). The lyrics also hooked my mind and take me into more introspective places. I’ve always thought it was a telling commentary on different points of view with one enjoying drugs, shaking their head at the endless news stream, and the other just dealing with the mechanics of existing and working, doing little thinking about anything outside of that. To those end, I considered it a yin and yang statement on where we are as a modern civilization. But that’s just me. The more existential question is, what are The Neurons up to, feeding this into me? Well, this time my guess is about watching and reading the news and noting others’ reactions to these cycles. They tune in and tune out; and I do the same.

Off to wage peace on the day. Stay pos, be strong, and keep chill. Coffee mug is warming my hand whenever I pause, sipped and gulped to stir the gray beings populating my brain. There must be billions of them. Here’s the music. Cheers

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Saturday’s Wandering Thought

He’s planning a trip and reviewing hotels.

One rated a prospective place “10/10 – Excellent”. But their comments made him wonder:

“The room was good and bed was super comfortable however there were areas needing a little updating . Looked like there had been a roof leak in the bathroom over the shower area and the exhaust fan in the bathroom sounded like it was dying. Also the lighting in the bathroom was not very bright . The breakfast in the morning was good. Overall I’d say it was ok.”

Head shake. ‘Okay’ is far away from ‘Excellent’ is his mind.

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Friday’s Wandering Thought

He wondered and worried, would hotel rooms begin emulating air travel pricing, monetizing everything? He wondered if there would be a day when he reserved a room but that doesn’t mean he has a room – just like buying an economy airline ticket or even rental cars (see Seinfeld for more). He can imagine going online to rent a room and being offered upgrades. Ten more dollars for both a bed and chair in the room on top of what you’re paying for a preferred floor and location, size, and view. Twenty-five more for pillows, sheets, and blankets. Go for the Deluxe Room Plus – it includes complimentary coffee and a television, just fifty dollars more.

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A Dream About Loss

There were twelve of us. We were taking a two-day class. The was the second day. The class was being held in a business annex in an airport. As part of the class, we’d been writing a paper about what we learned. Everyone else was leaving. I was still writing my paper.

I was distracted because I was hungry and I was getting ready to go home. I’d been away for a while. Knowing I was the only one remaining in the class, the instructor began packing up and turning off lights. Other instructors, teaching other classes, came in to have an end of week celebration before they headed out.

I needed to check in for my flight so I sought the instructor to ask permission to send it in later. Not finding him, I packed my laptop and gear and rushed out.

The airport was hectic and unfamiliar. I was struggling to find my way. I briefly set my briefcase with my laptop in it. In a flash, someone picked it up and walked off with it. I was shocked, horrified, sick to my stomach. I tried finding that person so I could get my bag back, especially my laptop. I’ve had a laptop for decades. They help define who I am. Also, I realized, I wouldn’t finish the paper. My notes and the text book were in the bag. So was my plane ticket and wallet!

Distraught, I went back to the classroom. About a dozen instructors were milling in there. My instructor was in the back. I tried speaking but couldn’t. One male instructor noticed me and told the others, saying, “He’s upset. He has something to say.”

They fell quiet to hear me. He encouraged me to speak. I began but started losing it. Reining in emotions, I began again, telling them what had happened. They expressed sympathy and concern. Meanwhile, I bent and saw my briefcase sitting on the floor beside me. Picking it up, I discovered everything I thought was stolen was in it.

I was floored. I’d been carrying that thing around. I’d looked in it before. I was certain everything was gone, yet, I’d had it all along.

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A Weird Car Trip Dream

Friends and I were awakening from sleep in a darkly cluttered place. Three or four others were there, including one friend from RL forty years ago. The others were dream friends but not anyone from this RL. As the sun rose, an old stage, perhaps once part of a high school but now outside, gained substance.

We talked about news while sitting up, rubbing sleep out of our faces, and stretching. One was complaining that people didn’t understand the news and headlines. Someone suggested that we should do plays where we would just read headlines and stories and then explain them. Sounded good to me. Someone else said that we needed to clean the area up but I asked why because the stage with its clutter and junk seemed like a meta statement about our world. As this conversation went on, the sun rose, daylight came up, papers were dropped off on the stage and people became walking past. We’d been rolling up our sleeping bags, putting other shirts on, and making coffee. Now one guy picked up a newspaper and started reading it aloud. People going past stopped to listen.

I went down steps, out the back, and met my cousin. He and I went off to collect our clothing, which was somewhere else, because we needed to get ready to go. He kept talking about what he was going to wear and asking my opinion of his ideas, but I wasn’t deeply invested in that and didn’t respond much. Reaching a building, we went upstairs and found our open suitcases. This wasn’t the clothes we wanted; that was at Mom’s house, my cousin thought, suggesting that we go there. I told my wife where we were going. She decided to come with us.

We entered a large white vehicle with a thick black stripe down each side. The inside was flat and wide, with a thin, gray carpet on the floor. Windows were on every side, giving great visibility. Some gray folding chairs were set up in it in the front, but we would need more. I set up some chairs that I found, dubbing one in the second row by the window as ‘mine’. Two people were already seated in the front row, where three chairs were set up. One of those was my SIL, who was waiting to leave as well, which startled me. For some reason, I didn’t expect her there.

My cousin had disappeared, and so had my wife. I went out to Mom’s home and found the clothes which I wanted, and put on a green shirt to wear while I traveled. Going back outside I saw cars pulling up and parking on the lush green lawn. “They’re not going to like that,” I told others several times, talking about the people who lived in this housing area. “They’re proud of their lawn. They should move their cars before they’re found.”

Everyone ignored me. I found my cousin back inside Mom’s house. Mom was talking to him as he complained that his clothes weren’t there. I looked and discovered that the suitcase holding his clothes had been emptied. I told him that he would just need to go in what he was wearing, which really upset him.

I returned to the white car. Nobody had set up any more chairs. The driver was present, adjusting his folding chair as a seat, along with my SIL, who was still in her seat. My wife was in the seat which I’d designated for myself. I complained about that with her; she ignored me. Exasperated, I set up another chair behind my SIL. I asked her where she was going, and she answered, “The same place as you.”

I responded, “I’m going back to school.”

She answered, “So am I.”

The car rocked with movement. Going to a window and looking out, I discovered that the car was tall and much larger than expected. We seemed to be twenty feet off the ground. I didn’t know how that was possible.

Dreams ends as the car moves forward with me looking out the window and others talking behind me.

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The Space Snake Dream

I was brought on to help create a new vehicle for people to travel. As I walked with the team, talking outside, I saw a small red and yellow snake. Ideas lit up my mind. I sketched out a plan for us to develop a design based on a snake. Objections quicky rose. Growing more excited, I explained how we would use small segments, giving the snake great flexibility. Each segment would be a living, working or storage compartment, etc. Our travel snake would be able to turn in multiple ways.

They told me it was supposed to be for space. I got more excited, telling them that we can develop multiple small segments, just like the other segments, which would be used for propulsion. They could be interspersed along the snake’s body.

While I was telling these things, the snake was being built. Without a short while, I saw it fly over some brown mountains and land nearby. I skipped through the sky to it. The snake’s segments were much larger than I’d suggested and its overall length blew away my expectations. Someone said, it’s getting ready to go.

By that point the sun was setting. The cloudless sky had grown deep indigo and purple. A few stars and satellites populated the zenith. Looking up, I watched the white snake, people visible in windows lit with a soft yellow-tinted light, climb into space on a blue flame.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Early dark thirty. Far before the sun’s scheduled arrival after seven. I’m waiting for my sister to pick me up and convey me to the airport. I’m always depending on my family and their kindness. She is one of the best.

It’s Tuesday, October, 11, 2022, exactly, without planning, one month since my arrival in Pittsburgh. Mom was in the hospital when I arrived, fighting COVID as it attacked her heart, lungs, and everything else it could lash out at. Nurses told my sisters it was very possible that Mom may not survive. It was one of the worst COVID cases they’d seen since the pandemic’s start for that hospital staff. Besides COVID and fluid in her heart and lungs, her appendix had a perforation and was pouring poisonous material into her body. Her pacemaker was only functioning at 20%. Things looked ugly.

She fought back and came out of it. Now she’s home, recovering, rehabbing, and I’m going home. She is struggling with bouncing blood pressure with a diastolic dropping below 100 too often. She’s on meds to promote good blood flow, keep her blood pressure at a healthy level by lowering it because of what she endured in the hospital, when it was skyrocketing. Now they’re backing those meds off, readjusting them, but her blood pressure is erratic. That’s a concern.

Other than that, she’s recovering her strength and balance, eating well, and so on.

My work here isn’t done but life dictates other needs, so, here I go, back across the country, back home.

It’s a travel day, in the car for thirty minutes, airport for two hours, aircraft for five plus, another hour in another airport, another two hours in a second aircraft, then in a car to reach home, an eleven-hour trip. That’s much better than the pioneers, and not as hazardous.

I feel like a little bit of a basketcase dealing with Mom as I hear her tell me one thing and bend her words so it doesn’t seem as bad when she’s dealing with her medicos and my sisters. Irritating as hell to be honest; makes me feel like an unreliable witness. But alas, these things are not within my control, so I let them go like the air from my lungs.

However, The Neurons jumped all over those feelings, dumping “Basketcase” by Green Day into the morning mental music stream (trademark pending – not really, but it feels like it should be added). So here we go.

My ride is here. Stay pos and test neg. I’ll try to do the same. Here we go. I’ll have coffee at the airport, thanks. Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music

The sun was shifting into position in the eastern sky. Gray sky emerged from the darkness as the stars shied away. We jumped into the car and headed north and then east. Our coast time was over. Shame, too. Thursday had been warm. Calm winds heralded dawn at 5:45 AM. This morning’s thermometer proclaimed 58 C was we left the hotel. They forecast 68 F as Yachat’s high. But come 9 AM, we were at PDX, dropping off friends and then heading west for our next destination.

Today is Friday, 7/15/22. Happy birthday, little sister. She’s two years younger than me, mother of two adult men, grandmother to two sweet and lovely girls.

We’re in Beaverton, outside of Portland. It’s 74 F now and will reach 83 F.

“She’s the One” by Bruce Springsteen, 1975, was found in my morning mental music stream. The Neurons put it there after someone made an innocent comment about another person being ‘the one’. Yeah. Okay, at least I get the connection, unlike some of the opaque selections they issue me. Hope you like it.

Well, stay positive, test negative, and so on. I’ve already had my coffee. Might do with another one in a little while, as that drive disrupted my normal daily flow. We’ll see.

Cheers

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