Tag: wife

The Festival Dream

Young again, as it often happens in my dreams, my wife and I were at a three-day festival. We knew a few people there casually, but most were strangers. We were making acquaintances, though.

I’m not sure what the festival was about. It was partly outside and inside, on different levels, but was very easy to get around. Some areas were set up with drinks and other areas had food, dancing, and demonstrations.

After wandering around some, my wife and I went to explore different things. I ended up in the company of a young charismatic man with thick, dark curly hair. He was the de facto leader of a social group there and invited me to be part of that group. I had a lot of fun with them.

Then there was a quiet time for resting. He invited me to find them the next day. I ended up borrowing his car. First, it was a silver blue. Then, it was red. Both times, it was a small car, convertible and sporty but nothing familiar. Yet, with the second car, I thought that I remembered them. Very red and small, it still seated four. I recalled that a panel could be put over the rear seats to give the car a racier look, but that could be removed for seating, which I thought was clever.

I drove the car a bit but had trouble parking it. Misjudging an angle when I turned into the garage, I had to wait until people walked around the back of the car before I could reverse, widen my approach, and park in the space.

After that, I began to drift through the festival, eyes open for my wife or my new friends. I ran into my wife. We talked for a moment but she went on.

The festival was thinning out. A woman who had been with my wife approached me as I looked at a menu board. She asked if I wanted something. Her way of talking confused me and I politely declined and walked away. She re-approached with a large bag of potato chips. Giving them to me, she lectured me a little, telling me that I should accept offers when they’re given. Then she finished, “We Americans need to stick together and help each other.”

She seemed to indicate that we were the only Americans at the festival. Her remark confused me. I came across my wife again and offered her some chips. She declined and went off again. I gave the chips to someone else and went to watch a demonstration of fire department teams showing their skills doing different things.

One woman led a team. She was very impressive with how she went about rolling hoses, wielding axes, and other things. Growing drowsy, I laid down to watch her from a platform. Others were there. I could hear them talking about the same woman who impressed me. After a bit, one of the other people jostled me. Faking indignation, I turned around and demanded to know who was disturbing my sleep.

I was surprised. It was my sister. She was her ‘real age’, that is the age she is now. Her youngest son, also in his current age, was with her, along with a few other people who I didn’t know.

I was now my real age. Telling them, “I’ll see you later,” I decided it was time to leave the festival and went off into a large warehouse lit with yellow lights to find my wife. Behind me, I heard my nephew say, “That’s how he is. Watch, he won’t be back.”

Dream end.

3

Two Dreams

I remember two dreams from last night but only snippets from a third. Here’s what I recall about the two.

First, there was a writing dream. A young man again, I was in my early twenties.

I love how my dreams often make me younger. *smile*

I was sitting with my wife at a low, light gray counter. She was on my right. To my left was a young girl, white with long brown hair. I think she was about 12. Nobody I knew.

In front of me on the counter was a yellow legal pad. A male voice outside of my dream frame was suggesting that I write a book about writing fiction.

I was laughing and denigrating the idea. “I’ve had a couple short stories published, and I self-published a few books,” I rebutted. “That’s not really a good position as someone giving writing advice.”

But as I was talking, I was scribbling ideas on the yellow pad. Using a red pen, I wrote down four columns.

My wife said, “I think you should.”

And the out of dream voice said, “The girl will type it up for you.”

And the girl was saying, “I’m bored. Is there anything for me to type?”

That all made me laugh harder. On the yellow pad, I jotted down ideas in the four columns as I laughed.

Dream end

The Race Dream

I was in some coastal area with my wife and some friends. (The friends weren’t anyone from real life.)

A storm was coming in from the ocean, building up. The winds were growing higher, and the surf was rising and becoming more violent.

But a race was being held in the water. I don’t know what distance was involved but people could parasail, surf, bicycle, swim, or run to win. The race would go along the coastline.

I had a friend there with a saddled brown horse (with a black mane and tail) and several young children. The friend BTW looked like a young Viggo Mortensen. The children were begging him to enter the race. He was uncertain but they talked him into it. So he climbed into the saddle. After pulling the two children up onto the saddle with him, he urged the horse forward to join the race.

I watched, amused and also wondering, “Is that safe?” I saw that the surf was much worse than I thought it was. I was considering how he would do this, envisioning the horse galloping sometimes through waves breaking on the shore, but mostly urging the horse along on the firm, wet sound just above the water line.

I heard people mocking my friend, “Oh, look, here’s another one who doesn’t know how to surf.”

The starting gun went off and the race began. I watched as the racers went south, through the crashing waves, as sunlight broke through thinning gray storm clouds.

Knowing the race would be away, I went to the house where we were staying. This was actually a large, lovely terra cotta mansion. I was standing out there, having drinks with friends and my wife. It was a small group. Two of the friends were from my childhood, and two were adult friends.

One childhood friend asked, “Why did they call you the professor when you were young.”

I laughed it off. “Probably because I read a lot and had to wear glasses.”

My wife said, “No, it was because you were smart.”

My other childhood friend said it was because I always got good grades.

As we were talking, I noticed a blonde teenage girl standing off to one side, listening. I realized that she was going to back and tell her friends about this conversation.

Turning, and shifting angles, I found a view of the ocean. The race was still going on. I saw about forty competitors and thought I spotted my friend on horseback but wasn’t sure.

Dream end

4

A Travel Dream

My wife and I were traveling together. Young adults, I’m in the military again.

We were traveling to some fancy do. Although the details of that weren’t shared in the dream, we were pretty excited.

We arrived at some huge airport. She went off to do something. I wandered, and then drifted into an aircrew lounge. People went to block me from entering, but the officers in there recognized me and invited me in. At least a dozen friends from my Air Force life, pilots and navigators, were in there.

Settling in with them, I watched a baseball game on television for a while. When I saw the score, I asked, “When did this happen?”

Leaving there, I went to find my wife. We connected. I was now carrying her formal gown along with my dress uniform. I realized our flight was supposed to be boarding. On the heels of that, I thought, we need to be in the military terminal. I ran out into the growing wet dusk to hurry there. Where my wife was and why she wasn’t with me was completely overlooked in the dream. As I looked down the airport tarmac, I decided that the military terminal was too far inside and raced back inside

Connecting with my wife again, we hurried to board. Somehow, we boarded through the aircraft’s rear. So we were onboard but didn’t have seats.

The aircraft’s interior was like a large building with stairs, lounges, little sitting areas, etc. I looked for staff to help us find a seat, which was odd as we were passing orange seats that weren’t occupied, but couldn’t find help.

My wife said, “We need to get to the wide part. How do we get to the wide part?”

Looking around at the tall ceilings and seating areas, I mused, “This all looks pretty wide to me.”

Dream end

0

Wednesday’s Theme Music — You!

Ashland, southern Oregon. Wednesday, September 23, 2026.

66 F, we have blue skies, contrails, and the potential to hit 78 today, a fallish, warmish day.

One contrail fascinated me. Coming in from the southwest, the contrail cut east over Ashland’s airspace before turning due east for a short distance, then veered northeast. Studying the fat contrail, I wondered what air vessel caused those traces and what they were up to.

My wife and I were quietly reading the news this morning when she began railing about something. Engaged in thought, I didn’t play close attention.

Then she started up about Trump’s ballroom — the one he began building to distract us from the Epstein files, the one he said would be paid for by donors and cause taxpayers nothing. We talked about the story about the architect who quit the ballroom project because Trump, safety, and common sense. My wife was practically snarling when she quoted Trump from the story, “I am the code.”

Yes, I honestly get why that pissed her off. Trump loves claiming he knows more than anyone on topics, declaring that he’s an expert. The results say otherwise.

Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:

My wife then went on about a pet peeve of hers, people parking in front of our house. One car has been there several weeks, which really gets her going. She says things, “I hate it when people do that.” Seems like overdramatic language to me, and unnecessary anger, but it’s a pet peeve. They’re not overly logical.

Anyway, I began chuckling to myself about her outbursts. Something in her tone caused The Neurons to play “Everything About You” in my morning mental music stream. The hard-rock Ugly Kid Joe song came out back in 1992. It’s a playful take on someone with a negative attitude expressing how much they hate things. They hate the rain and sunshine, beach and mountains, country, and city.

Sample Lyrics

I hate the rain and sunny weather
And I, I hate the beach and mountains too, boo-hoo
And I don’t like a thing about the city, no no
And I, I, I hate the countryside too

And I hate everything about you
Everything about you

And I don’t like a thing about your mother
And I, I hate your daddy’s guts too, boo-hoo
And I don’t like a thing about your sister, no no
‘Cause I, I, I think sex is overrated too

And I get sick when I’m around
I can’t stand to be around
I hate everything about you

As in played in my head, my wife said with a new spurt of anger, “I really hate Trump.” She then added, “And Mitch McConnell.”

So I think the song captures some thoughts very well. Especially when thinking about Trump.

I hope your day is filled with kindness and love, and things you like. May you live long and prosper. *smile*

Cheers

0

An Aston Martin Dream

Young again, middle-aged, I was with my wife and others in this place with blue carpets. I don’t know why the others were present, but I was there to see a doctor. The doctor, young, White female, with, with short, dark hair, briefly saw me.

“You need surgery,” she said, indicating my neck. “We’ll do it today.”

That pleased me although I was surprised that my neck was to be operated on. I waited for the my scheduled time to arrive. I noticed the others began dressing up. My wife emerged wearing a dark suit with a white shirt. From overheard snippets, I realized that everyone else was waiting for surgery as well.

I was taken back; I’d not seen the doctor examine any of them. As people came out dressed up, the doctor began telling people when she would see them. Hastily I dressed like the rest, in a black suit with a white shirt and tie, but laughed at it as I did, thinking, this is silly.

Then – poof – the surgery was completed. I didn’t notice a thing but I knew it was done. It’d been so quick and simple, it was completed in an eyeblink.

I encountered my sister-in-law. She and I went off to await everyone else finishing off. I began helping some children drawing with crayons. I ended up with crayon on my white cuffs. While wondering how I was going to clean those off, my SIL showed up with a similar problem. I then took a paper towel and blotted the colors off. I shared what I was doing with her and she started doing the same.

We talked while we did that. I asked when she was going home and how long it would take her. Then I remembered that she lived in Florida. No, she answered with surprise. “I live just an hour and a half away. I’m taking my boyfriend’s train him.”

I hadn’t met her boyfriend but I knew of him. My wife arrived. She and I talked with my SIL and my wife and I announced that we would go get my SIL and her boyfriend some food for their trip home. We went out and bought very large sandwiches with French fries. We ate while we were there.

Then we rushed back to give them their food. They were already gone. We looked down the track to see a three-car train pulling away, which amused me and my wife.

We then needed to go deliver a package. I jumped into my car, a gorgeous and expensive Aston Martin roadster, green, with a white interior. I raced down the highway at very high speeds, overtaking many cars. Then, seeing a line of cars breaking, I slowed down and moved left.

Good thing I did, I told myself, as we overtook a long line of cars and trucks pulling travel trailers. They were stopped. I worried that we wouldn’t be able to mail my package.

Then I pulled up to a booth. Jumping out of the car with my package, I told him what I was doing. He was short, solemn, round Black guy. He listened and worked as I apologized for the state of my package and for not having it correctly prepared.

He shrugged that off, saying something like, “No problem.” I thought the packaging needed to be replaced. He consulted with a co-worker. They agree, it just needed a new clear plastic bag. He put that on, then grinned and told me, all down.

I laughed, surprised at how easy it went. Returning to my car, I prepared to drive away.

Dream end.

0

Almost Bookends

My sister, Gina, sent some photos out to the family this morning. They’re almost bookends of Mom’s adult life.

This is Mom with her first born, my older sister, Debby.

This is actually a photo of a photo that hung on the wall. Mom is 19.

Here is Mom with me and my wife at Mom’s house about twenty years ago, in much happier times for Mom.

What’s wild in thinking about this photo is that I was fifty and Mom was my current age, 70.

That’s why taking these photos, which may not mean much at the time, can become timeless and special.

0

Monday’s Theme Music – Failure

Ashland, southern Oregon. Monday, August 3, 2026.

It’s cool now but heat and fire weather warnings are up. Our present temp is 68 F but we’re bracing for a 96 F high as the heat dome comes our way. Will the jet stream save us? If it doesn’t they warn us, brace yourself for temperatures over 100 with a heat index that pushes it much higher.

My wife and I had the case of the missing mangos this morning. “Hey, didn’t we buy mangos?” she asked, looking around.

Yes, I agreed, also looked around. We began a search. Not in the frig, on the counter anywhere. Didn’t ‘somehow’ get left in the car. At last: the last place we looked: with the potatoes.

My wife said. “I was tired when we were putting the food away.”

Case solved.

This is unlike the case of the missing senator. “He’s alive,” the GOP proclaims, but Mitch McConnell still hasn’t been seen in public for almost two months. It’s starting to be a lot like Trump’s war.

Trump’s war with Iran is also in a limbo states. Back in March, Trump and Hegseth claimed the war was over, with Trump declaring it was an “unmitigated success”.

That was six months ago.

Then Trump has gone on and off the record about what’s happening, swatting away any attempt to being held accountable to We the People. “I’m gonna bomb them,” he texts, then reverses himself. Oil prices rise and drop. Oil companies are making record profits. The rest of us scramble to deal with rising prices. That’s standard under GOP guidance: the rich get richer, the poor are told to suck rocks.

The Iran war is just one of many incomplete Trump mysteries. Other is, what happened to releasing the Epstein files? Trump promised he would release the files. A law was passed that they must be released. After months of distraction, Trumpnions are still holding them back on behalf of the bossman.

Thanks to Pirro’s terrible legal skills in leading the DoJ, the case about the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is much stronger. Let the records show that it’s just as we thought, that Trump’s contractor botched the job and Trump scrambled to save face by screaming, “Vandals! Plots! Democrats!” Just as he does every time he screws up.

Likewise, the Freedom250 celebration isn’t as profitable and successful as Trump crowed it was, which required that We the People made up the shortfall. We all kind of saw that coming: Trump announced the performers and almost all immediately said, “No, no, we’re not part of this.”

Yes, it’s been the summer of Trump failures. Building toward a year.

Except for grifting; as always, he’s taking care of himself, making a ton of money by making the Oval Office into a crime boss’s golden lair. Between his ruthless need to be honored and his insane hunger to appear rich and powerful, he’s become a Bond villain caricature, which is something, since they’re often caricatures to begin.

Except, also, for the tournament he won at one of his golf courses. He won that. Everyone outside of his grift circle immediately questioned whether he cheated. This is because he’s Donald Trump, a known liar, adulterer, and cheater. Just pick a topic. Look what he promised and claimed. If you’re a MAGAt or Republican, you’re fine because the ends justify the means for you. So, Trump Double Standards are employed.

But they’ll reach that final FAFO moment when they’ve burned it all down. Given their recent history, they’ll pivot: create conspiracies. Blame others about what went wrong.

Just like their leader, Donald J. Trump.

Your Trump Quote(s) of the Day:

Trump on Jeffrey Epstein:

Trump on Affordability:

And the only truth Trump has ever uttered:

Today’s occupant in the morning mental music stream is “Power Failure” by Procol Harum. Released in 1971, it’s an old favorite of mine from a distant era. The song is about bands and the struggles they face. But I think it translates well to politics.

Lyrics (h/t to AZLyrics.com)

Climbing out of open windows
Crashing down from broken stairs
Keeping watch on smoking cinders
Falling over burning chairs
Tossed and crossed and screwed in transit
Broken , splintered, bruised and thrown
Badly shattered, gale force frighty
Rrushed across and shown alone
Speech reduced by poor relations
Strung from weeks of self abuse
Chopped up, churned out weeks of greazy
Spark plugs burned up, power’s fused

That imagery spells Trump failure and GOP collapse.

Hope your Monday — or whatever day — sparkles with magic that invigorates and moves you on to new heights and familiar joys.

Cheers

2

Crime & Plumbing Dream

The dream found me at home – not my real-life place – with my wife. I awoke to discover that she had hired people to fix the plumbing. Thick, dark dust filled the air from the work. Three men were going all through the house, looking at the pipes and changing things.

I was floored that my wife had apparently decided to do that without consulting me. “First that I’ve heard about it,” I huffed before going off.

Coming back later, the men were in another part of the house. The three were all older, with short hair, white skin, and wore coveralls. Weirdly, usually they stayed clustering, staring at the pipes and talking about what they were going to do.

I came across my wife in another room. Wrench in hand, she was working herself on plumbing in a bathtub. I was like, “What the hell?”

I noticed that she was working on the faucet and spigots but she was on the side of the tub and had the floor torn up; but the tub still had its faucet and spigots attached on the end. I wondered, is she putting in new ones on the side to make it easier for her? Or putting in a new tub? I didn’t.

Going outside, I saw that she had people working in the garden and was building something new out there. That worried me. I knew that she had evidence of crimes committed buried there. (I was thinking that it was a murder but I didn’t seem sure.) I went back and told her that I didn’t think that was a smart decision but she was busy with the pipes and didn’t respond.

Returning outside, I saw a large rock being moved; I knew that was crucial evidence. With a sigh, I also saw that a police detective I’d seen earlier was watching and saw the rock. A little later, the police began digging up the area.

I thought, my wife is going to be going away, because her DNA is all over that. That disappointed and saddened me but I also thought, I should be okay because my DNA won’t be there.

Dream end

0

Saturday’s Theme Music – Looking back

Ashland, southern Oregon — Saturday, July 4, 2026.

Today is Independence Day in the US, another bright day in my valley, destined to be 90 plus degrees F.

Fireworks aren’t permitted in Ashland. They are allowed in our county, so there’s a storm going on about buying fireworks right outside of city limits. People then come in and set them off.

I’m one of those against fireworks. We’re in the middle of a drought, and they terrorize animals and some people. Each year, I bring my cats in and ensure they’re in a safe place. Papi heads to the darkest and most secure space, the walk-in closet in our bedroom.

I understand that people like the colors and noises. We have other tech that can be subbed for this ancient technology. I know, though, that change is slow around traditions like these.

For me, Independence Day has a very special meaning. I met my wife just a short week before the holiday. I was fifteen and she was fourteen. My father, then in the Air Force, was stationed at DESC, just outside of Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio. I went to live with him after some run-ins with my stepfather.

Dad and my future father-in-law were good friends. Dad worked for him part time years before when stationed at Wright-Pat, trying to make extra money. When Dad returned after assignments in Vietnam, Germany, Iceland, and Turkey, they renewed their friendship.

I met my FIL, Jim, in May that year, 1971, on a fishing/camping trip. Then I met his wife and daughters in June. That was just a short drop by, though. It was on July 4th that my wife and I ‘really’ met.

Dad had given me an old watch after he bought a new one. I wore that all the time. Back when I met her and my wife and I were getting to know one another on July 4th, she asked me about my birthday. As it happens, it’s on July 5th.

My wife asked if she could see my watch. Then she refused to return it. She waited until after the fireworks. She waited until midnight. Then she presented my watch as a gift and told me, “Happy birthday.”

I lost the watch a long time ago, but I cherish her and the memory.

Today’s song is “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John. For the last twenty plus years while living in Ashland, we go to a friend’s house along the parade route to watch our town’s 4th of July parade. It’s a brunch potluck. Our host used to be our neighbor across the street here; when her husband passed away over a dozen years ago, she moved into a small cottage behind her daughter’s house. It’s our daughter’s house where we and about fifty other people congregate and celebrate.

Our host, though, is Barb, the neighbor from across the street, a sweet and charming but small 96-year-old woman. Her husband told me that he met his wife when she was a teenager. She was studying dance, already in college, and he was at college and walking, when he saw her alone on the bridge, dancing, late on afternoon. He didn’t know who she was but he knew he wanted to know her. Since hearing that story, I often call Barb “Tiny Dancer”. And that’s why the song is in the morning mental music stream.

I have you have a wonderful day, whether you’re celebrating the holiday in the US or elsewhere, or just enjoying life in another nation. I hope it gives you memories that make you smile, and comes with memories about what happened before, and full of people who help make your life a better place.

Cheers

1

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