A Chaotic Dream

I read an article in a newspaper, something about prizes being given away, and decided that would be a good idea for my group of friends. I don’t recall prize details but I thought they were practical household goods — but expensive — which some of my friends could use. So I pulled my local friends together and pushed the idea on them, persuading them, “Let’s do this.”

We then got on the phone to call two other couples. We used to live close to each other but they’d moved away. I knew the wives better than their husbands, as I’d known the women first, so I kept forgetting the men’s names when I was on the phone with them.

We ended up at one of the couple’s house. It was a small three-bedroom, two baths California townhouse. Not shabby but cluttered. They were home but the husband wasn’t coming out; I sensed our ‘invasion’ irritated him and felt sort of sad that he lived in a small, cluttered place.

There was a device we were supposed to use in conjunction with this scheme, although the scheme was to call people up or knock on their doors and try to sign them up. The little rectangular device had come apart, so I was trying to fix it. Mostly metal, with a wind-up motor and gears, it also had some small red and yellow pieces, and a body that clipped on it. I continued trying to fix that while talking to others and laughing.

After a long period of aimless conversations, everyone agreed with my idea. One of the guys, a younger Mexican-native American who I worked with before, came to me and told me my assignment was to go sign up three new customers. I declined, explaining, “I’m not a salesperson. My role is to organize and oversee.”

He accepted that but seemed glum. I finished fixing the little device and put it together, telling him, “Look, I fixed it.” I felt very proud of that, vindicated because ‘I knew I could do it’.

I then asked him what the matter because his energy seemed low, then guessed that he was facing discrimination from his boss. He confirmed that, adding, “It’s others, too.” We spoke about that a little bit more.

Another friend came in to tell me my wife was missing. She said she’d gone to bed but she wasn’t in her bed. I went and checked on her; she was in bed. I told her that others checked on her, but she wasn’t there and asked where she’d been. Crossly, she replied, “I had to go to the bathroom.”

I went back out and told my friends about the exchange, then I again went looking for my wife. This time, I went outside and up the street. We were in a suburban neighborhood. I found her sitting on a lawn chair on someone’s walk to their front door. Sprinkler systems were on, watering large, lush green front yards.

My wife was younger and laughing, though she was alone. She pointed out this kitten. Tail straight up, it was an odd tarnished gold color and was prancing around. My wife said that it’s a stray but she was very fond of the cat and had been watching it for a while.

Dream end

A Car Dream

My wife and I were our current age and traveling in her 2003 Gray Focus. I was driving.

We stopped somewhere to eat. It looked like a good choice but after we began looking around more, it turned out to be a mess. Tables were set up as if they were in a fine dining room but it was outdoors, on uneven fields of uncut grass. Many other people were just like us, trying to figure out WTH was going on.

My wife was very hungry and said, “Screw this, I’m just getting some food.” Then she stalked through the grass, where the food was in silver serving bowls among  the clumps of grass. Finding some food, she took it to a table.

I was trying to tell her, “Wait, I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

A harried young male waiter hustled to her, asking for her order. She replied, “I’m eating this.”

The waiter turned to me and asked, “What are you ordering?”

I was bewildered. “I don’t know what’s available. Where’s the menu?”

But as I looked around, I saw another family doing as my wife did. Noticing scrambled eggs in a bowl on the ground and a red plate, I picked them up and said, “I’m having this.”

The waiter looked both dejected and smug. Writing something on a pad, he left.

Eating some of our food but not happen with it, my wife and I returned to her car. It was cold outside by then, so I started the car to warm us up. I noticed ice inside the car and told her, “Look how cold it got.” Then I opened windows to let the ice out and continued running the engine to warm the car and clear the windows.

The dream ended on a view of us in her little gray car, waiting for the windows to clear.  

Little Things

My surgery has been over for hours. After catching up on sleep, I’m ravenous because I haven’t had food since ten last night. With a diet limited to cold soft foods, I’m eating sorbet and thinking about what I can eat.

My wife begins reading an article aloud. “Women are having problems creating intimate relationships with men because of men’s addiction to porn.” One part is about a woman asking men if they watch porn. They deny it until she shares what kind of porn she likes.

The story swerves into men spending hours in the bathroom. The writer mocks the idea that they’re having long bowel movements and mentions they probably wouldn’t be in there that long without their phones.

“They’re watching porn on their phones?” I ask.

My wife nods.

“I don’t get that. What in the world would you be able to see on that little screen?”

“I know.” My wife points at our television. “We have that big screen. I watch carefully and feel like I still miss a lot.”

“Yes, and people watch sports on their phones, too. I don’t get that. During football games, they’re always blowing up scenes to show, is the knee down? Was his toe out of bounds?”

“How do people see these things on phone screen?” my wife responds.

“Exactly.”

My wife puts her feet up and closes her eyes. It’s been a long day for her. She had to go in with me and stay for the entire surgery, then drive me home.

I finish my sorbet and wonder what to eat next that’s cold and soft and fantasize about a hot bowl of chile.

The Brown Cougar Dream

My wife and I arrived at a resort hotel, meeting our friend, Bob and his wife. Real-life note: this is not the same Bob from my previous dreams, but a friend and co-worker from my military days. The wife in this dream wasn’t his real-life wife.

Bob, who was prematurely bald, had thick black in the dream. My wife and I had just arrived. Bob and his wife came by to greet us and make plans.

I noticed some filth on the ceiling. It disgusted me so I looked for something to clean it up. I found some spray and sprayed it all over but then needed a ladder and rag. A young hotel worker asked me what I was doing. I explained myself. He shook his head and reassured me, “Don’t worry about it, we have it covered. It’s not your problem.”

I went back into the room and noticed the spray had already made the ceiling mess almost invisible.

Bob and I ended up outside, where it was like a desert after a rainstorm. He was carrying a young animal he’d rescued. Noticing a young brown cougar down the hill, I followed behind Bob to protect him from the cougar and found a large stick to use as a weapon.

Waiting on a porch for Bob’s return, I saw the cougar watching me. As that registered, the cougar approached. Raising the stick, I yelled and made myself big.

Sitting down, the cougar asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m making myself big and making noises to scare you away.”

The cougar chuckled. “Did you really think that was going to work?”

“That’s what they tell us to do.”

“Anyway, you’re safe for now,” the cougar said, “but you scheduled to die tomorrow, and I’ll eat you.”

I was appalled and vowed not to let that happen.

The cougar shrugged. “It’s going to happen. It’s on the schedule.” He indicated a bright pink and blue poster. I read the poster but saw nothing about my death on it.

Back in the hotel room, I showered and cleaned up. Bob came by to see if I was ready. I told him that I needed to shower. I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower and then realized, what am I doing? I already showered.

I was now naked downstairs and needed to up to my room. Entering the stairwell, I caught a reflection of myself and found I was astonishingly good-looking — much younger, lean and muscular, with a thick head of dark brown hair swept to one side. As I started up the steps, a young woman entered.

“Eek,” she said, pretending to turn away. Covering her face with a hand, she looked at me between her fingers. “A naked man.”

I laughed and apologized, continuing up the steps, and encountered another woman. “Locked out without your clothes?” she mused.

“Yes, that’s what happened.”

She chuckled. “We’ve all been there.”

Now dressed, I joined Bob and our wives in another area of the resort. I saw the brown cougar in the crowd, watching me. I realized that I’d forgotten something in the room and needed to go back. Bob drew up a complex map, showing me where we were and how to get back to my room, 1004, at the top of the building. Although his map was detailed, I felt bewildered and said, “I’ll never find my way back through that maze.”

Bob said, “Alright, let me go with you, at least part of the way, until you know where you’re at.”

Dream end.

Mixed Signals

As part of a celebratory do my wife recently organized, we ended up with 100 plastic plates. Small, white, with gold trim, we’d purchased them so guests could enjoy some finger foods.

She had them stacked in the sink and mentioned that she had to wash them. I asked, “Want me to wash them?”

My wife replied, “I didn’t want them to go into the landfill, and I think they can be used again. I already washed them, but I think they feel greasy, so I want to wash them again.” Then she walked away.

I washed the plates.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Cold ruled Ashland last night. Temperatures fell into the high 20s in my zone but, guided by sunshine and clear skies, we’re pressing into the upper 60s today. It’s 57 F now.

It’s still a dry winter for us, and a concern because of the impact of the missing snow on the rest of the year. The NYTimes published an article quantifying the situation this week.

I’m late with my posting because early running around was required. My wife’s big do was on Sunday. Maybe things were rented and borrowed. We had to wash and clean it all and returned it today.

The do was a success, celebrating Mary Bergstrom’s fifty years as a exercise instructor with our Family Y. Mary is still going strong after all those years and remains beloved by her students. My wife was asked to organize it and did a great job, although it was intense at times and not without conflict, irritation, and frustration. It’s all done now, another memory to pull out.

Meanwhile, as I watch Trump’s grip on the United States flailing, as shown in approval polls, he joked about canceling the 2026 elections, and then mused about taking over elections in ‘some’ states. Those would be the states run by Democrats, blue states which challenge his assault on our norms, traditions, and laws.

Many, including me, immediately jumped up with notice that Trump is always insisting that he’s for state rights, the foundation for his moves to reduce the Federal government’s size and regulations. As always, Trump’s logic is conditional. He’s for something until it’s in his interests to be against it. In short, whatever most benefits Trump will be his political position.

Personally, I consider this another distraction tactic. He distracted from the Epstein files with ICE surges and military actions amid more threats to sue others. Meanwhile, he also tore down the White House East Wing, obsessed over Greenland, and whined against not being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. He also declared affordability was a hoax, but that inflation was ‘fixed’, like he’d darned a hole in a sock.

So now, here we go again, with Trump defiling something that works under the guise, “It’s broken and only he can fix it”. We hear this from him, yet he keeps breaking more things, making things worse for many of us. All I’ll say about it now.

For music today, The Neurons have me humming, “I Guess That’s Why They Call It the Blues”, as it plays in my morning mental music stream. The 1983 Elton John offering is a mellow reflection of love, living, remembering, and being, easily slotting into my state at the moment.

I hope that life brings you grace, peace, and good health today and every day. Cheers

Success & Processing: A Dream

Young, I dreamed I was in the military, except it seemed more like I both was and wasn’t. As the dream unfolds, you’ll see what I mean.

I was at my house, in uniform. It was this house where I live in real life, but located somewhere else. I was going through the house, thinking about what I needed to do when I received a phone call. An agent said a publisher was interested in my book and wanted to talk to me — could I come up next Tuesday?

Hell, yes, was basically my response.

Giddy with excitement, I shared the news with my wife. Then I was informed that the general was arriving for a briefing. Scrambling, I put together a PowerPoint slide presentation, finishing up just when the doorbell rang. The cats ran off as the general and his staff entered.

The general was tall, friendly, white, quiet, and very hands on. As I began the slide show, explaining things, he asked for the controls. Then he tried to take over but didn’t know how to work the controls. I showed him. He then ‘left’ the slideshow app and started going through the material.

At one point, the general stopped. Watching him reading the slide and working the controls, I guessed that he wanted to print something. I showed him how, which he quickly understood.

Noticing the television, the general asked if it worked and requested it be turned on. I turned the TV on but with the sound down. The general took a remote and tried changing the channels. This was an odd-looking remote that was like an old-fashioned television dial on rectangle. He turned the dial but nothing happened. I explained that we didn’t use that remote — it didn’t work with this system, and gave him the correct remote. He then turned the channel.

I took the laptop with the presentation on it to the printer area to retrieve the general’s printouts. Another general was there. This one was younger, less rank, chunkier, white, with a balding head, brown hair, and a thick brown mustache. He was also very gregarious.

I saw that this general was trying to make copies of something. Chuckling, he was saying, “I was ready to retire. I can’t believe I got this assignment. It just fell into my lap. This is wonderful.”

He walked off. Glancing at what he was copying — coupons — I discerned that he’d not done them right. Adjusting the machine and settings, I copied them for him, speaking to my wife as she came up. “Look, hon, he’s copying coupons,” because my wife used to be a coupon hound. She left and left that area as the short general returned.

I showed the short general the copies I made, telling him, “I think this is what you were trying to do.”

He thanked me, agreeing that I’d fixed it for him. Then he took a fat marker and circled something on the page. I didn’t see what and didn’t feel it was my business to look.

Suddenly, he said, “Will you go down and sell my house for me? I need to sell it but I don’t have the time. It’s next Tuesday. I’ll give you $10,000 to do it.”

Seeing me hesitate, he cajoled me into helping him out. On my end, I reacting to him but not saying anything. First, an extra ten grand? Hell, yes. Second, next Tuesday? I have something planned then. I’d need to do both. I also thought, look at all this great stuff happening.

Everyone left. I went around, thinking about all that had transpired. While seeing the guests off, I’d noticed that the yard was weedy and trees needed trimmed. I decided to take care of those things. I went into the house first to tell my wife about the short general’s deal.

Back outside, I discovered that the weeds had almost doubled in size and numbers while I was in the house. Well, I needed to take care of that quick, so I went in and got the equipment. Coming out, I began working on a tree. My wife came out and said something that I didn’t catch.

Dream end.

A Work Dream

Despite not working for anyone since 2016, I had another work-related dream last night. This wasn’t from my last employment with IBM but was with one of the medical startups from earlier, shortly after retiring from the U.S. Air Force.

We were in a large, clean, bright room. The company’s engineering section, thirteen people, including their director, were at tables shoved together across the room. I, the lone marketing person, sat on the room’s other side, alone.

Wanting to be involved, I moved over there and asked for permission to sit in on their meeting. They were developing the product I would market, after all, and I was part of the team that collected input on the product’s design. The director and others said, “Sure,” so I sat at the edge, so I wouldn’t be intrusive.

Note that all of these people were known co-workers from real life from two different medical device startups.

Not feeling included, I left after a short period, returning to my space. But I had nothing to do; no assignments, no emails, no phone calls.

With no warning, children suddenly swarmed our workspace. I don’t know why they were there. Crossing back to the engineers, I discovered that they were gone, then spotted them leaving the building.

I followed them out. They were going up a dirt path into the mountains, past large boulders and pine trees. One said, “Look, there’s a huge bald eagle up there.” He pointed.

I nodded; I’d heard about the bird earlier and had seen it. I didn’t know what the engineers were doing. Seemed like it could’ve been some team-building exercise, so I left again.

Heading back down to our office, I realized that my boss was in Paris for a trade show. I’d not heard anything from her, which was unusual. Then I realized that she hadn’t included me in any of the show prep.

Deciding that I didn’t really have a job, I thought that I should probably look for new employment and began compiling a resignation letter in my mind as I walked.

Dream end.

Sundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I were in Albertsons. A light replenishing mission, this wasn’t a full-on shop. Certain items are only available at Albertson’s or Safeway in Ashland. Albertson’s is closer, and so there we were.

I was in the sprawling produce section, which shares space with the deli and bakery. A frozen section of frozen mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese lines another wall.

Standing on the end, I gazed across these commingled sections and all of their offerings, looking for my wife and trying to remember what she was wearing, eagle-eyed for a purple hat or blue jacket. I think that’s what she was wearing.

As I did, I questioned myself and chuckled, “How many times do I end up like this, looking for my wife in a store?” Seems like every shopping venture with her has a moment like this.

I was perplexed. Everything — just five items — on our list was in the basket, and I had the basket. Clearly, my wife had gone rogue and was shopping ‘off-list’. That happens, but what did she seek? Answering that would let me find her.

I noticed a woman looking at me as she pushed her cart my direction. Not recognizing her, I decided she wasn’t looking at me but something around me.

She came right up to me. “You look confused. Are you looking for the frozen fish? They’ve changed everything around again.”

I smiled. “No, I’m looking for my wife. But you’re right, they’re always moving things around.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, they want us confused and lost, so we spend more time in the store, which might lead to more impulse buying.”

She wheeled her cart away.

I watched her heading down another aisle. She’d clearly given this a lot of thought.

But she was right. Like, right now, my wife was probably pursuing another impulse buy.

Then I turned and added a bag of pistachio nuts to the basket. I mean, as long as it’s there, and I’m there, waiting…right?

Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife came in, sighed, and gave a book report. She reads a lot — over one hundred novels in 2025. I read but not nearly as much, in large part because I write fiction.

I often hear two or three book reports a day from her. Today’s report launched from a familiar sore spot for her.

“Well, I’m enjoying this book, but. I have nine pages left. I know that they’re not going to wrap this story up in nine pages. Not if it’s going to make sense. That means there’s a sequel, a book two, maybe more. Why do they do this? It should be illegal. It should be a crime. If you write a book, it should have an ending, not another thousand book to read.”

Report finished, she stalked back out. A minute later, I heard her singing and cleaning the kitchen. She gets angry about it but at this point, she’s resigned to the situation. I don’t think it’ll be much longer before she begins confirming that the book has an ending before she begins reading it.

We all have our limits.

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