Military Dreams Again
The dreams flowed together. All were of a military sort but had nothing to do with my military career.
The first found me with others outside, beside parked cars outside of apartment and business complexes. My wife was with me and the others. All the folk were dream acquaintances, no one from real life.
My wife said with alarm, “I just heard that they’re going to set off a nuke.”
Disbelief coursed around the group. Several said, “They wouldn’t.”
A muted boom froze us. Turning like one being, we looked across and over trees. A bright white light flashed.
“They did it,” someone said, a comment echoed by others.
“We’d better get away,” people said, “get to shelter. Run, hurry.”
The rest ran. I stayed by a car. I wanted to see what would happen to me when the nuke’s energy struck. Seeing it coming as a red light, I closed my eyes and ducked my head, then flattened against the car’s side. Red radiation painted my skin. As I rose, looking at my skin, I thought, I’ve made a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.
But it was done.
Next, I was with an army in place outside. We were all in woody camo gear. Thin, steady drizzle dampened our spirits, clothing and equipment. Across the valley was a like enemy encampment. We were waiting for them to attack.
The waiting was so tedious. Boredom overtook me. And I was cold, wet, and underdressed. From this, I decided to sneak away to get a outerwear. With continuing glances to ensure I wasn’t observed but also that the attack wasn’t imminent, I stole away from the woodsy front. Behind it was a village with widely spaced dwellings. Free of tension, relaxed, it was a wholly different state. I found the cottage where I’d been staying, went in and found my gear. After changing, I added the coat and headed back out.
Outside, I saw our commanders talking, heads down, close together, strolling. I slipped in behind them, following them, to see what I could learn. Eventually, they went to a place where a whiteboard had a map drawn on it. They wrote on it. Continuing to spy, I realized that the two men were in love with one another but wouldn’t address their relationship, and that was paralyzing their abilities to think, plan, and lead. Dismayed, I headed back to the front.
Back there, I settled back in. Nothing had changed. I stayed for a while, watching, drizzle falling, chill air kissing me, until someone came by and told me I was relieved so I can sleep and eat. Fully dressed, I settled into a bed. Someone else was on my left side. As I slept, others would join me and I’d wake up. Typically a woman, they would curl up against me for warmth, slept for a time, and then leave. Waking to return to duty, I knew that had happened nineteen times. One had been my sister, who came by, laughing, confessing that she’d heard I was warm and comforting.
I returned to duty. Looking through the drizzle across the valley, I saw a smiling white woman with frizzy brown hair and glasses appear. The enemy commander, I knew. I passed the word that she was there and warned others to be ready because she was working her way down through her troops, and I thought they might be preparing to launch their attack. We got ready to fight but the commander went down and disappeared from sight.
Suspecting subterfuge, I began watching our flanks. In a moment, I saw her appear, coming to us from the left. “There she is,” I told the rest, rising to go and confront her. As I went out, though, she transformed into another person who looked almost the same.
Surprise surmounted me. Had I been wrong, or was this a trick? I divided my time between watching her and surveilling the enemy across the valley, waiting for something to happen.
Dream end.
Tuesday’s Theme Music
Look at this: Sunrise: 7:30 AM. Sunset: 5:18 PM.
We’re squirting toward ten hours of sunlight here in Ashland, Oregon. The delta has become just twelve minutes. Twelve minutes. At this rate, we’ll have ten hours of sunlight by the end of January. That, my friends, is progress.
Yeah, I’m a sunlight fan.
We could use more sunlight today but stormy clouds have paraded in. The clouds brought a sharp wind as their plus one. Present temp is a chilly 31 F, which feels like colder. Today’s high will be 39, so no relief. Still, we’re faring better than places where single digits or piles of snow reign.
Today’s song, “Last Nite” by The Strokes, came out while the century was still young, 2001. Sweet and young, the new century was naive and combative, as the 2000 election showed. We’ve been fighting ever since.
How does “Last Nite” fit in? It’s all about understanding, innit? Don’t know if you recall/are familiar with “Last Nite”, so let’s paste in some lyrics, courtesy of Genius.com.
Which sums up a lot going on in U.S. politics to me, which is how the song got into my head this AM. I was thinking about how people don’t understand one another. We took about it a lot. How can anyone trust Trump? He’s a proven liar and failed businessman. I don’t understand. Meanwhile, over on the spectrum’s other end, they’ve been yelling, Trump tells it like it is. The left doesn’t understand. But, but, but, how he’s telling it are lies and bullshit. I don’t understand why they don’t see that.
Stay positive — I know, it’s hard — test negative, wear a mask, get vaccinated, and persevere. The list keeps growing.
Here’s the music.
A Brief Dream
Last night, one dream was going on when it was interrupted by a special bulletin. There was a flash of sparkling white light. A swarthy man with coarse features and long, dark air, parted in the middle but tied in a pony tail, called out to me. He seemed like he was in his late thirties. I dimly recognized him. He was wearing jeans and a frayed white shirt.
He said, “Come here. Come on.” He was acting impatient, gesturing with his hands and fingers, while his head was bowed, like he was weary of doing this.
“What?” I asked.
“I’m going to explain this.”
“But you already explained it.”
“I know.” Nodding, he turned away, but waved at me to follow. “I know I explained it but I don’t think you understand, so I’m explaining it again. Come on.”
I begin to follow him; the dream ended.
Friday’s Theme Music
I awoke streaming this song, “Is It in My Head?”, in my head this morning (ha, ha).
I often wonder about the truths of perceptions, impressions, and memories. I don’t wonder about just mine, but how others came to their beliefs, and how difficult it can be to dislodge an idea after it’s burrowed into you. We’ve been exposed to evidence that the winners write history. History is often propaganda to justify and moralize decisions and sustain political or popular support. We all love heroes and myths.
So I wonder with myself about whether I remember something correctly, whether I’m too deeply embedded in silos and bubbles to perceive the truth and grasp it, and often, if I’m conning myself into hoping and believing that my writing efforts amount to anything. It’s a perpetual cycle of challenging, searching, and thinking.
Today’s song selection, made by my mind (and probably invited in by the latest rounds of dreams), “Is It in My Head” is from Quadrophenia by the Who. The album was released in 1973, when I became seventeen years old. I’d been searching and wondering well before I heard this song.
I continue searching and wondering today, almost fifty years later.
Today’s Theme Music
Well, hello. Here we are. At the end, the beginning, a break, a start, a finale.
This is New Year’s Eve day. Tonight we’ll count down to a new year.
I mean, most of the western world will count down. Others use different calendars and count down at another time of the year. And we’re only counting down to the end of the Julian calendar year, and not, say, the fiscal year, although some use the calendar year and the fiscal year as the same year. It’s not likely to be your natal year, though. So you won’t be celebrating that new year, nor a wedding anniversary, which is another new beginning that’s often celebrated.
But here we are, celebrating this day that doesn’t quite align with the seasons,businesses, or our lives, but here we are, the masters of our domain.
For this day, I selected a soft, questioning song. ‘The Freshman’ by the Verve Pipe from 1996. It encapsulates a lot of thinking about human nature IMO. Perhaps I’m generalizing by my circle of relationships but this is what I’ll testify that I saw. We began by thinking we knew so much. Then later, we question, what did we really know?
How did we miss the signs?
How could we end up so wrong?
We end up marveling about how we came to be the relationship that we are or were, conducting forensics on our behavior and running audit trails on what was said and who said it. We look for clarity in the murk about what was meant by tone and meaning in the context of gestures that happened before and after.
Some are content to never question. “It is what it is,” they answer with tautological finality. “Ours is not to question why; ours is but to do and die.”
“That’s just the way it goes.”
Perhaps they question but never admit that they question, or limit the circle of who knows about their questioning. Some consider that questioning is a sign of weakness.
They don’t want to be seen as weak.
I’ve always been the questioning sort. I guess that makes me weak. I’m envious of those who find a trajectory of ignorance and remain true to its path, never veering or questioning but riding that comet with the certainty that they have the golden truth, convinced that nothing else other than what they believe can be true or correct.
But I remain a freshman.
Michael Seidel, writer 