Tag: truth

The Time-Travel Device Dream

I’d noted before that Papi, my ginger-flavored housefloof, picks 6:37 AM to demand — again — to be let out. This is true plus or minus a minute each time. I meantion ‘again’ because he’s usually been in and out three of four times by then.

Now 6:37 probably isn’t early to many. It used to be non-early to me. Military, I worked shifts on and off for fifteen years. Day shifts often started between 6 AM and 7 AM at most locations, depending on our mission, so rising early was regular. My Space Command days, though, I was a superintendent and then the QAF advisor and made my hours. I always chose to be in by 7 AM, and I carried that forward after retirement, when I began work for a corporation.

All that’s dream background. In the dream, I decide to investigate whether it was true that Papi always wanted out at that time, and further, what the orange wonder did when he went out then. So, there I am, peering down on the world, zeroing in on my house, through the roof to my bedroom. Here comes Papi. I check the time and confirm it. He just goes outside, sits and washes, looks around, nothing special. Good, that’s one day but I need to check more.

Someone else there tells me, “You want to use our time machine?” I never see the others but I know that three are present.

I reply, “You have a time machine?”

“Yes, we use to go back and find the truth of what happened so that it can be properly documented.”

Yes, I’m floored. “Sure, I’d like to use that.”

I can see the other’s hands and arms at this point. All are wearing white gloves and a black coat. They give me a small black box, rectangular, maybe four inches by two inches by one. Blue numbers are on its front. I see labels for months, time, year. “Just put in the particulars which you want and it’ll take you there. You can’t interact at all but you can observe.”

Doing as directed, my instructors realize that I’m going back one day at a time and explain how I can do it more efficiently by using a little scroll control to the side. I can designated how I want to scroll, by year, day, hour, etc. So I play with it, confirming that Papi has been asking to be let out at that hour and minute for some time.

I finish with that exploration and give it back. “This is really useful,” I say. “It’d be great if I could go back and see what happened during other times, with other people.”

“Oh, you can do that,” one answers. “You can use it whenever you want. Just let us know.”

Dream end

0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

He always defends what he says by proclaiming that he’s just giving ‘the unvarnished truth’. But when others deliver the unvarnished truth to him, his defensiveness spikes to Mt. Everest levels.

Not a great surprise, as he lives in a very varnished bubble.

2

Friday’s Wandering Thought

Someone asked him, “How are you doing?” “Good,” he answered with enthusiasm.

He didn’t know if his answer was true. He didn’t know how he felt. He thought how he ‘felt’ was a complicated question, and the truth about the answer slid along its own spectrum, shifting by the second, the minute, the day.

‘Good’ was probably a safe if reductive average.

0

The Naked Women Dream

As I explored it in dawn’s rising light, I realized that the dream was about dealing with others’ opinion.

I was a young writer in a cafe, very busy with computer, notebook, and coffee at my round wooden table. Small and crowded, the cafe was noisy. I left briefly and zip, in dream fashion, was at another business. It appeared to be another cafe or restaurant but featured naked women. I learned the business was closing, which was why I’d gone to the establishment. I’d been talking and visiting several of the women who worked there, doing research and interviewing them. Their information was essential to what I was writing. I worried about losing their input, so I was staying in touch with them, trying to help them get jobs, etc.

I felt good about helping them and hopeful. I noticed as an aside that the place where they worked and the place where I wrote were decorated the same way and were the same size, an aspect of the two places which amused me.

Returning to the cafe where I was writing, another woman confronted me. Hostile and noisy, she made snide remarks about where I’d been, because “She’d seen me.” I acknowledged that was where I’d been and attempted to explain why without going into much of what I was writing, but she kept dismissing me. Each time I began speaking, she rudely spoke over me, denying the chance to tell the truth, insisting that I only went and helped those women because they were naked. I grew angry and frustrated, and then dismissive of her.

Dream end.

0

Would I Lie?

I enjoy watching “Would I Lie to You?” Hosted by Rob Brydon, Lee Mack and David Mitchell lead two teams. Two guest celebrities appear on each team every show, people like Bob Mortimer (who shares hilarious tales), Jo Brandt, Richard Osmen, and Greg Davis. The team members then tell a story about something that happened to them. The other team then guesses whether it’s a lie or true. Points are awarded. Yes, it’s British. My favorite episode involved Germane Greer and cannibalism. I love how the panels and Rob really get into the premise.

I stream it on Britbox via Amazon. I’ve watched many episodes more than once, tests to see how well my memory works as I try to recall if they’re lying or telling the truth. I’m usually wrong. I don’t think that bodes well for me doing my taxes in the future.

Whenever I watch the show, I think, what tales could I share? I’ve come up with one. First, the opening statement. That’s what’s used to launch the premise and cross-examination.

I once passed out three times trying to give blood just so I could have a doughnut.

They would ask the usual questions. When did this happen? Where? How old were you?

I’d answer, “I was in my early twenties, working at a bank in Pittsburgh, PA. The American Red Cross was having a blood drive in the lobby. If you give blood, you’re given a free doughnut. I really wanted a doughnut, so I took my place in line. Then, well, as I approached, I fainted.”

For some reason, as I write this, I imagine it being spoken in David Mitchell’s voice.

You fainted, will be repeated. I’ll nod, affirming that’s what happened.

Then?

“They put me on one of the little beds they had set up and gave me some orange juice. I returned to my desk, but I really wanted a doughnut. I got back in line and fainted again.”

They would ask me, “Was this your first time giving blood? Have you ever fainted before? Do you have a history of fainting?”

It was my first time giving blood. I’d never fainted before.

The ARC again put me on one of their little beds with orange juice. After I felt better, I returned to my desk. But…

I really wanted a doughnut.

I returned to the line, worked my way forward, and fainted again.

“A third time,” people exclaim. “Boy, you really wanted that doughnut.”

“Well, it was free,” I reply, “and I like doughnuts.”

“What kind of doughnuts were they? Were they special doughnuts?”

“Glazed.”

“Were you hurt whenever you fainted?” They would ask. “When you say, fainted, do you mean that — what do you mean?” (Lee Mack is questioning me; I hear his voice.)

“I swooned,” I answer. “My vision grew dim, my legs grew weak and then buckled, I lost consciousness, and found myself being helped off the floor.”

“How long were you out?” Lee asks.

“Not long, a few seconds, maybe ten seconds, I guess.”

“Did you ever get a doughnut?”

“No.”

Rob asks, “Well, Lee, it’s time to decide if he’s telling a lie or telling the truth.”

He’s lying, they agree. Nobody would get in line three times just for a doughnut. Or the ARC would give him a doughnut after the second time, to reward him for his efforts.

“It is a lie,” I tell them when the time comes. “The truth is, it wasn’t me; it was my sister.”

And that’s the truth.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑