Tag: wealth

Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: wintslow (wintry and slow)

Yes, it’s a wintslow Monday on this January 8, 2024. First off: how long after New Year begins is it acceptable to wish people happy New Year or variations of that? After I challenged a person telling me happy New Year, I countered, Merry Christmas: it is coming.

Winter holds court outside. Snow sketches lines over the mountain ridge’s dark pines and firs. Grey clouds mute the sun’s impact and diminishes the land’s colors, though the starkness of snow and mountains across the valley is majestic and pulls eyes and thoughts. It’s 33 F now, with 46 F offered as a cap to today’s warm streak.

Most are pleased that snow has fallen at last. One young woman, a high school senior, told me yesterday that when the big flakes started really dumping, she went out and danced in the snow. ‘Course the skies and snowshoes have come out and people are heading for slopes and mountain treks.

Just a pause to note that one person conversing with me yesterday claimed the local hospital is full of COVID patients. She’s a nurse so I have some faith in her observation.

Football and award shows about popular culture hold forth in the news today, although some elements are also addressing the upcoming Iowa caucuses. Many world and national events are still ignored, or not spoken about, at least, part of the stalemate in communications which we’ve reached. F’r instance, the economy is ‘better’ and ‘doing great’ but that doesn’t mean much if you’re hanging on to pay for necessities or are suffering food or shelter insecurity. Just as it’s been for hundreds of years, maybe thousands. There are some who have more than enough to indulge whatever they want for themselves, and a chunk who live in desperate situations. Fault lines shift but the bottom line throughout history is that the rich get richer. After all, from being born to advantage, to having people grovel before them because of ‘who they are’ — i.e., the money they have, which begets power — to being able to buy favoritism and special treatment, money moves our civilization and the wealthy are indulged with preferential treatment.

The Neurons, being who and what they are, served up “Do You Wanna Dance” to the morning mental music stream (Trademark launched). This came as I was asking the cats as part of our morning routine, are you hungry? Do you want something to eat? Yes, they told me, Tucker in his quiet and understated manner, Papi in his youthful, energetic, more vocal style. Meanwhile, The Ramones had taken over my head with their 1978 cover of the song had my head jerking and my feet tapping as I dished out pate to the floofs.

Stay pos., be strong, remain calm, and lean forward. I am presently leaning toward my coffee; once I drink more, I hope to right myself. Here’s the music. Sing it to your floofs. Let me know what they think. Cheers

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A Dream of Money & Fighting

Many of my recent dreams have been about self-doubt, communication problems, and confusion. Last night’s dream added a different twist. A sort of duality emerged right at the beginning.

I was a civilian but arrived at a military complex. Walking in, I assumed my military persona as an experienced senior NCO. I had a huge cache of cash with me, US currency, twenties, fifties, hundreds. I was trying to put them into a leather bag. There was so much, it would fit. I shoved some into pockets but was left with more.

While this transpired, I grew aware of three men watching me. One black, two whites. All taller than me. Bigger. But middle-aged, as I was in dream world.

I suspected they were planning to jump and rob me. I wasn’t going to permit that to happen and placed my keys in my hand with the tips outward between my fingers. One of the men came close. I turned on him as he reached for me, and swung hard at him.

I completely missed.

But he was surprised, taken aback. Dropping back, he stumbled, fell, hit his head, and lost consciousness. One down. Similar things happened with the other two, where I was completely clumsy and ridiculous in my fighting efforts — I am not a fighter in real life or dreams — but still won. With them dispatched, I went to find my room, number 2407.

The complex was like a maze. Signage was almost non-existence. Doors were closed but no locked. I ended up going through quarters for different people, along with operations areas and work rooms for different squadrons. People sometimes challenged me as I walked in on dental and surgical operations, counseling sessions, and newcomer orientations. I kept walking through, trying to find my way, often telling them when they accosted me, “I wouldn’t be here if you guys had signs. This is totally ridiculous.” I vowed as I went that I would write this up to give them feedback about the lack of signs, and the disorganization which I encountered.

When I found my room, it was locked. I had a key, though. It was a calm oasis within. Paused there, I reflected on the dream’s elements while still dreaming, and realized how much it reflected my personal issues, real and imagined. Then I drew out my cash and realized that I was wealthy.

That’s how it ended.

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Three Dreams

Seduction, destruction, confusion, and security. Short summaries of sharply remembered dreams where I felt these things.

My first remembered dream from last night’s slumbering had me being seduced. This woman and I were traveling with others. All of us then got in bed together. She turned to me and told me that she wanted to have sex with me and moved her hands along my body. She said, she’d thought about it, and I deserved it. I was eager and ready but, hello, there are other people in the bed. She said that she’d spoken with them and that they’d agreed. As she said that, the other three left the bed. I kissed her and she reciprocated.

Dream censored.

Second in the dream line was about destruction being wrought by an evil baby head.

I found myself in an empty old Victorian style home. Going through the rooms, I discovered a huge black trunk in a room upstairs by a window. I opened it. Line with gray inside, its only contents was a smaller black bag which reminded me of a bowling ball bag. As soon as I opened the bag, a baby’s head floated out. White but mottled, it had no body, a constant leer, and thin hair, and was alive. Dread emanated from it, soaking me. I was immediately dispirited. I quickly found it had master telepathic control of others and telekinesis as it threw boulders with its mind and created slaves of other people. Understanding that it had no good intentions, I managed to get behind it while it wasn’t paying attention and get it into the trunk. Slamming the lid shut, I locked it but realized that I could still hear it in my head. I realized it had been in that other black bag to block its thoughts and powers.

I fled, trying to get distance from the baby head, driving along old and narrow country roads, going up a mountain. I soon found myself lost with a black spirit. The baby’s voice was diminished but I felt its presence. Leaving the car to look around and figure out where I was, I decided that I needed to go back and destroy the baby’s head.

End of dream.

Finally, I had a dream about a wealthy old man. White, he was quite old and thin, and favored a monocle, black silk top hat, and a black walking cane topped with a diamond. Suited in a black suit with morning coat, he wore a white bow tie and traveled about in an all-black ‘car’. This car was essentially several rooms, like a narrow black land yacht with a design out of the 1930s. As said, extremely wealthy, he was in charge of everything, he declared, and he didn’t any changes. Large, serious expression men in black suits provided constant security.

I, a young man, was with him in this cluttered and narrow beast of a car. He’d chosen me to write his biography, so I was there to listen to him tell his life story and give me his wisdom so that I could compile it all. Like him, I was dressed in a white shirt and black suit, but with a black tie. His aide, an older man, was dressed as I was.

I was enjoying myself as others brought me tea and pastries while we drove around the city in the mechanical beast. Observing everyone, distraction set in, and I entertained myself by figuring out how the old man could be abducted, and then created a story concept around it. Pleased, I shared that with the old man.

Well, he was outraged, shouting, “Balderdash, that could never happen.” Then he stormed out of that section and into the car’s rear. I knew that he was upset because I’d pointed out a security vulnerability. The elderly aide chastised me in gentle, polite tones for upsetting the old man, who the aide revered. I explained to the aide how I was right, showing and demonstrating the car’s vulnerability on which I based my story. His expression told me that he knew I was right. He went off to comfort his boss.

Dream end.

Yes, I see how black dominates these dreams, as does power and desire.

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The Formal Garden Party Dream

I was hosting a formal garden party at my estate. Apparently I was quite wealthy and famous. It was catered and I had nothing to do but make decisions.

Servers were in white jackets and black pants. They were a humorous good lot. Attendees, which were mostly women, wore formal gowns. Jewels and pearls abounded among them, along with bare shoulders. Men were in suits or tuxes. Settings were elegant, with fine china and gold flatware, beautiful place settings around large round tables, linen napkins, flowery centerpieces, and lots of crystal for wine, water, champagne and other drinks.

Meanwhile, I was dressed in old shorts and a shirt, and sandals. I was lending my place and my name but I wasn’t specifically attending. Everyone else was working there or paying to attend. All proceeds went to charity. I was to give a talk but that was to come later.

They were asking me to sign things, an impromptu effort. Sign this for so and so because it would mean so much to her. Things kept going hilariously wrong with that. This pen is red ink; do you want me signing this in red ink? We had no proper paper to sign so I was tearing small bits off different things and trying them out. Then I put in the wrong name. Misspelled words. Silly things. I laughed at all of it.

A special dessert was brought in on large silver trays, to be served later. A young black man, tall, good-looking, and my friend, was overseeing this. After he had them set up, he picked one up; he gave me a nod and winked. I selected a yellow rose, took the dessert from him, and then walked through the gathering. Everyone noticed and watched, growing silent as I randomly chose a woman at a table and gave her the rose, along with the special desserts, which just looked like a small baked thing to me. She gasped in delight and others begged me to give them one, but I walked back out in my shorts, shirt, and sandals.

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The Divorce & Money Dream

My wife and I divorced. We then went on a vacation together, where we stayed in a mid-range luxury condo. Her sisters were there, in adjoining places, along with their children. We were all younger than in RL by thirty years or so. My wife – B – and I had dinner and then attended a presentation on the environment and climate change in a huge, packed auditorium lit with golden chandeliers. The speaker was a good-looking man with a gold tan who had bestselling books on the subjects. My wife met him after the presentation. They fell in love and married.

I went back to my condo. My wife came to visit. We could see into her new husband’s place, as it was next door. Large and modern, it featured realms of glass. Golden lights lit it inside. B told me that the home was enormous, taking up two entire floors of the luxury townhomes next door, and that her new husband was dying. He passed the next day, leaving everything to B. She announced that as part of that, she was receiving over $13,000 a month in royalties.

I was happy for her but startled by that amount. We’d been there for almost a week and I needed to leave soon. I didn’t have reservations to fly out but had a day and a half left before I needed to get back so I decided not to make reservations yet. I was very busy at that point. The condo had become a little cluttered with piles of coins. My nieces and nephews began collecting them and taking them to my sisters-in-law and wife, who kneeled on the carpet divided the piles of coins among themselves. This didn’t worry or bother me because I’d discovered large caches of cash which belonged to me. I was happy for them to take the coins, but every time I turned around, I discovered another pile of coins.

Then, oh no, I was late for leaving and I hadn’t made a reservation! I chastised myself, thinking if I had made reservations, I wouldn’t be late because I would have had more structure. I succeed more with structure.

A man came by and informed me that I needed to leave, and that if I didn’t I would be fined. I laughed at the threat and noted that I had cash on hand and my ex was receiving $13,000 a month in royalties. The man left. I told the rest of my party that I needed to leave and would be departing shortly. My ex-wife said something back about the need to take care of her new inheritance. She was to go into her ‘new place’ to inventory its contents. I asked her about the hold up, and she said, “There’s a lot of places,” and held up keys. One key ring with keys were hanging on another key ring of keys. “He has places all over town. And you should see the cars.”

Dream end

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Three Dreams, No Waiting

I call the first dream the 6¢ Dream. The other two were flash-dreams.

The 6¢ Dream

It’s called the 6¢ dream because I was looking — wait. I’ll begin at the start. It ends a little ghoulish.

I’m living with my in-laws. Two SIL, brother-in-law, MIL. My wife isn’t there. The house is a long building. Tall for a house. Off-white, with many narrow, vertical windows. Built in a straight line going up a small grade in the middle of a dirt road. The road’s dirt is ochre-colored.

After being presented with an outside shot of the house, like the opening of a sitcom, I find myself in the house. I’m looking at its floor plans. Each room is labeled. The room that I’m in is priced at 6¢. Others are priced at 3¢ and 4¢. I tell the others about my find. There’s a door going out the side toward the house’s rear. I decide I can build a little wing off that. I fumble about what I want there. Then, voilà, the wing is completed. I have a small conference room and an office where I can work. The result pleases me.

My BIL and I take a walk up the dirt road. The ochre soil becomes ankle deep. Soft as talc. We chat and laugh about it. I return to work.

Then he approaches all of us in the kitchen. Apparently rent is due. We’re supposed to be paying regularly on every room used. We didn’t know. Maybe it was presented to us and we forgot. I’m concerned about the new rooms I’ve added and what that will do to the rent. It’s not mentioned, though. The required payment is announced: my late father-in-law’s head.

I’m horrified but the others are matter-of-fact. Give it to him. They joke, he’s not using it any more. This shocks me. Per instructions, they toss my FIL’s head out. It looks nothing like him. Looks like an old, misshapen volleyball. It bounces around after landing, then rolls around, like it has its own will.

Dream end.

The Found Money

This dream came on the interstice between consciousness and sleeping. I was cleaning up. A pile of U.S. coins were on a credenza. Pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters. I’m sorting and stacking them when I look up and see a twenty-dollar bill folded behind a monitor. I exclaim, “There it is. I’ve been looking for that money. Thought I lost it.” Dream ends as I pick the twenty up and look at it.

The Mustang Crash Dream

I was outside between two buildings with other people. One was a tall red brick building. The other building — where I had been — was a shorter, white stucco and silver metal building with a glass-in lobby. I don’t know what I was doing in there. Don’t know any of the other people. We were milling, like we were on a break. The area was a cement walk bordered by grass and bushes. General, brief chatting was underway.

Sound draws attention. Sounds like an aircraft. Seconds later, we see a dark blue aircraft with yellow stripes flying around overhead. I identify it as a P51 Mustang. D Model. My second-favorite WW II aircraft. I call all that out to people. The aircraft is getting lower. We all realize, he’s going to crash. I realize more sharply, “He’s going to crash here.” As the aircraft crashes, I throw myself down and ball up, trying to minimize what happens to me, while others try to run.

There is no explosion. I get up. The others creep back.

The plane has crashed. Blue and yellow, it is a Mustang. Caught vertically in the space with the nose pointing toward the sky, the plane appears unscathed. The cockpit faces us. The canopy is gone. Someone else begins running toward it as they say, “We need to help the pilot.” I turn and shout to another, “Call 911.” In a bang-bang moment, we all realize that there’s no pilot in it. Must have ejected, we guess. We say, “We should go find him.” But when we turn to leave, we discover guards have arrived. Light blue uniform shirts. Dark pants. White helmets. Carrying rifles. We go to leave. They shake their heads. One says, “No one is leaving.”

I go into the building. Bunch of noisy teenagers are in one room. Looks like a smallish living room. They’re shouting, talking, and laughing in cliques. I try to yell to get their attention. They scarcely notice. I yell again, louder, “Hey.” Some impact. Third time, I form my hands into a megaphone. “Hey.” That gets almost all of their attention. A woman in charge of them says, “Everyone be quiet. Michael is trying to tell us something.”

With everyone looking at me, I announce, “An aircraft crashed outside. There are guards out there but I think someone should call 9-1-1. It’s a Mustang.”

Dream end. Took a lot longer to type it than to experience it.

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Refreshing Change of Dreams

Two other men and I were going on trips. Dressed in business suits with ties, we traveled to the airport in a limo. One would be going on with me while the third was going elsewhere.

We arrived, checked in, and was informed, “You’ve been upgraded to first class.”

Well, that was certainly a pleasant surprise. My friends and I inquired why. The agent didn’t know, so we travelers accepted the news and celebrated.

Then, I was notified that I’d won ten million dollars in a lottery.

Ten million! Wow. Well, it’d be less than that after taxes. Still, there was cause for celebration, right?

I didn’t remember entering a lottery. No matter. I made immediate arrangements to feed some children I’d read about. The man doing the paperwork with me was very snarky about it. I was cold and snarky back.

Then it was onto the plane. As I settled into my ultra-plush first-class seat, I dwelled in fantasies about what changes I could make to my life.

Dream end.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

The cats, my wife, and I agree, it’s pretty outside today. Take spring greenery and sunshine. Splash some gray and white clouds against the sky. Load up a brush with snowy white and slather across the land. Result: a snowy and sunny late winter day. That’s despite a temperature floating around 37 degrees F.

It happened abruptly. I let Boo the Bedroom Panther out at 10 PM. I let him back in at 10:15. There wasn’t any snow in evidence at that time, your honor. Thirty minutes later, my wife announces she’s going to bed to read, and why is it so bright outside? Ah, snow.

Today is March 6, 2021, a Saturday. Solrise was at 6:38 AM. Soldrop will be at 6:07 PM in southern Oregon. For those of you who collect days, you know that this is a unique one. There will never be a day like this again. For some reason, that prompted the Wayback Machine to spooled up some Talking Heads.

Same as it ever was…
Same as it ever was…
Same as it ever was…
Look where my hand was
Time isn’t holding up
Time is an asterisk
Same as it ever was…

h/t to DavidByrne.com

Well, Jill D. contributed to this thinking with her post, The Rich Get Richer While The Poor … | Filosofa’s Word (jilldennison.com). “Once In A Lifetime”, circa 1981, will stick to yer ribs.

Remember, stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers

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A Movin’ On Dream

I was visiting a wealthy male friend for some holiday. It was a stop during my travels. In the dream, we were in our late twenties. He was putting me up for a day and night. Had a big, fancy place with alabaster walls high above everything else on a mountainside overlooking the ocean, window walls with fantastic views. He lived there alone.

We visited, nothing special, had a good time. The next day, he went off to work while leaving me with things that I should do before going, if I could, as it would help him out, undoing things that he’d done for my visit. I planned to do them but kept getting distracted. Then, curious, I walked down a winding path to where he worked, to see what he did. He met me as I left the path and told me, “I just manage things.”

It was growing close to my time to depart. I had flights to catch. He told me to take one of his cars. A short and confused discussion followed because I thought I had my own car. I did, but it apparently wasn’t available, I discovered, because he’d taken it off to be worked on, cleaned up, and detailed. That took me aback, but I was grateful and pleased, too.

Something about a container followed. He had this container that he used to do things. He did it surreptitiously. I got hold of one. It was a light green square. My impression was that it was a box for getting a burger from takeout. I opened the box and verified that it was empty. Residue inside it was from a cheeseburger, showing traces of cheese, lettuce, onion, and tomato.

I was running late by then, so rushed to depart. As I did, driving away in his fancy car — don’t know what it was, except it was white and luxurious — I saw that I’d forgotten to do something that I’d promised to do for him. I wanted to go back but realized that I couldn’t, so I went on with the intention of calling him from the airport.

Got to a busy, bustling airport. It was more like a city than an airport that I’d ever visited, with multiple highways and flyovers connecting busy commerce centers and terminals teeming with people. After a bit of confusion and disorientation, I found my way, parked his car, and called him, telling him where I’d parked and what I’d forgotten to do. He reassured me that it was okay, don’t worry about it. Disconnecting, I went on to catch my flight.

 

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A Watch Dream Snippet

It was a long, coherent dream last night, one that seemed like The Great Escape or The Irishman, a movie that went on for several hours. 

I’d come into money. From that, I’d bought new property. After leaving it, I went with seven others to wander and explore the area.

We were four couples. One couple was my sister-in-law and her daughter. Another was my sister and her friend. A young couple, man and woman, were the third, and my wife and I were the final couple. I knew the young couple in the dream, but I can’t place them in my life.

We stopped, sitting at a table under some trees. The table became a rendezvous location. While I sat, the others came and went, shopping and visiting with people, etc.

A package wrapped in brown paper was brought to me. I opened it. Inside were watches. Some were gold but several were silver. All were new. Most were jewel encrusted. “Oh, yes, I ordered them,” I told the others, trying watches on. The others were exclaiming over them. I was dismayed. The watches were expensive but gaudier than anything that I would wear.

I began giving them to others. “Here, take a watch. Wear a watch.” I had more watches than I realized and wondered why I’d ordered so many, laughing at myself for that. The young man (of the couple) came up and asked, “May I take a watch?”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “Take a watch, please.”

The dream went on (with the same four couples), but that was the watch part.

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