Tag: winning

Dream Repeat: A Running Dream

My dream seasons amuse me. There was a period of episodic adventure dreams that didn’t seem to have me as a character. There are dystopian dreams where I’m part of a cadre of survivors. Military dreams are common in which I arrive at a new assignment and something goes wrong. Then there’s the running dream.

The running dream was had again last night. In them, as in others, I’m running. Yes, that is why it’s called a running dream. This running was being done on a timed closed course full of hills and curves, really like a sports-car or Formula 1 circuit. No purpose was given. All I know is that I arrived to run. My sisters are present to cheer me on. Stripping down to the basics of shoes, trunks, and shirt, I take off on a timed practice run.

I finish and my time is announced. People are astonished by my speed.

But I’m not pleased. I think, I can do better. So I set out again, again, and again. My time improves every time. I’m getting faster and faster. Moreover, I’m noting where I’m slow. Certain curves and hills slow me down. I systematically develop ways to overcome those issues.

Fans are now lining the start/finish line and most of the track. They cheer me on, along with my sisters. My sisters also brag about me. I hear them telling others, “I knew he’d be fast.” Other contestants are dropping out because they don’t think they can beat me. I’m try to encourage them to remain in the race, telling them, it’ll be a good learning experience, and I might not win. They might find more speed in themselves; I might hurt myself. I could fall and fail to finish the race.

But on race day, I’m alone as the sole competitor.

Dream end.

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Thirstda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

It’s time to check the economy’s barometer. Dollar Tree is selling off Family Dollar after acquiring it ten years ago. Lack of synergies between the two. I admit, I confuse the two stores. They’re interchangeable in my mind. Anyway, you would think that they would have noticed the lack of synergies back when DT was thinking about buying FT. I guess that’s business.

What really struck me about the move were these insights from Dollar Tree Chief Executive Mike Creedon, with my emphasis added in bold:

With regard to consumer spending, Creedon said that Dollar Tree, like other retailers, is seeing middle-income shoppers focus more on value. “At the same time, we are seeing stronger demand from higher-income customers who increasingly see Dollar Tree as a cost-effective source for an expanding range of products,” he said during the conference call.sales

“We believe it doesn’t matter how much money you make. Everybody is hurting right now,” he said.

‘Everybody is hurting right now.’ That’s a knee slapper. I don’t think the Trusk Regime’s billionaire cabinet and their friends are hurting at all. But maybe that’s just poor, poor, cynical me. More critically, it seems that more middle class is shopping at the Dollar Tree. That’s a strong sign for the future…not.

But come on, how can we be hurting in Donald Trump’s economy? He’s making all those moves to save the government money. Well, okay, that DOGE stuff didn’t save much money. It instead destablised the government, outraged citizens, scared Republican senators and reps into hiding, caused confusion and triggered alarm, and sent the stock market down. But he added those tariffs…and took them away…and added them again…causing trade partners to retaliate. Which, yeah, hurt farmers, damaged overseas liquor sales, and has put a crimp in economic forecasts. Retailers and manufacturers have responded with layoffs and slashed their sales forecasts.

Naturally, shoppers were affected. US consumer confidence tumbles for the 4th straight month as future expectations hit a 12-year low.

The Conference Board reported Tuesday that its consumer confidence index fell 7.2 points in March to 92.9. Analysts were expecting a decline to a reading of 94.5, according to a survey by FactSet.

The Conference Board’s report Tuesday said that the measure of Americans’ short-term expectations for income, business and the job market fell 9.6 points to 65.2.

It is the lowest reading in 12 years and well below the threshold of 80, which the Conference Board says can signal a potential recession in the near future. However, the proportion of consumers anticipating a recession in the next year held steady at a nine-month high, the board reported.

“Consumers’ optimism about future income — which had held up quite strongly in the past few months — largely vanished, suggesting worries about the economy and labor market have started to spread into consumers’ assessments of their personal situations,” said Stephanie Guichard, senior economist at The Conference Board.

Oh boy, so much winning, it hurts.

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A Chaotic Dream

It began with me as a young man. I came into a situation where the atmosphere buzzed with chaos. We were outside. People were everywhere. It seemed like they were all carrying something and were on the run. I looked for signs about where to go: none. I tried talking to people, but all were rushing around like a children on a playground sugar high.

After some bit of this, I managed to see a door and went through it. In there was the information I sought about my role. I was given a tall stack of thick folders. Most were manila folders, but some were red, green, and blue. I started shuffling through them, flipping through pages, assimilating information.

I was to be given a presentation to prepare so that a decision could be made about something, but there was confusion about who was receiving the information and what outcome was desired. I was smiling as I went through the info. I was familiar with all of it. Within a short time, I’d tossed all the folders except two aside. One was a plain manila folder; the other was red with a red and white cover on it, with large block letters in red: 5774.

The 5774 information wasn’t needed for the moment, I decided. That would be used later. First, clean up the presentation. Make it. Get the decision. Then, after that, do the 5774 stuff.

Okay. With that clarified for myself, I pursued that course. A decision was made.

Around me was instantly calmer and more relaxed. People quit rushing. They smiled at one another and started talking.

Okay, good. I went to a car for a rest. Others were heading to a large celebration. I planned to join them but first needed rest.

Others came by to follow up on the decision. I was groggy with sleep and tried explaining to them that the information they wanted was in the 5774 folder. Just find it, and the messages and information inside that, and they’d be fine.

They went off. A young woman in a green 1950s era Chevy pickup truck picked me up and took me to the celebration. The grounds were rutted with mud, but it was like a huge carnival. After I was given some food, I discovered that I was entered in a competition there. Contestants were taken to a center stage. Questions were put up on a screen for them to answer. They were given ten questions. Whoever was most correct most often won.

I watched the other contestants as they were asked questions and failed and was immediately eager for my turn. I knew I was going to ace this thing because the questions were all from the 5774 folder. I knew it intimately.

My turn finally came. Well, in theory. An equipment malfunction put a halt to the proceedings. The dream ended with me in the green pickup, grinning, eager for my turn, certain that I was going to win.

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Another F1 Driving Dream

A bounty of dreams again last night. I again had one about being a Formula 1 driver. I’ve now had several in the past few weeks. In the previous ones, I was a fast up and comer. Last night, though, I was now champion. It was, look out, Alonso. Slide aside, LeClerc. Out of my way, Max and Lewis. I have arrived.

The dream was mostly a montage of me in a sleek F1 car slicing around tracks and taking checkered flags. At the end, I was congratulated on being World Driving Champion. I was then shown an image of my sick black cat; his tumors were gone. Then, I was given my prize: two cans of cat food to feed him.

I was quite ecstatic. My cat was better, I had food for him, and I’d won the WDC. Ah, the stuff of dreams…

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Hard to believe, but another Thursday is upon us. We’ll name this one Thurston. Thurston Thursday, May 6, 2021. The sun came upon us in Ashland at 6 AM exactly (give or take some seconds) and will do its vanishing act at 8:15 PM. Between those hours, we expect a few clouds (don’t see any right now, but that can change), sunshine, and highs in the seventies, a comedown from yesterday, when we struck 86.

I was checking sunrise and set in Kennebunk, Maine, where it’s 5:38 AM and 7:50 PM, respectively. I prefer our hours, where we experience more evening light. Which would you prefer?

Today’s music is brought to you by Carlos Santana and his musical group. He released “Winning” back in 1981. I thought of the song after thinking about a portion of last night’s dreams.

I had a dream
But it turned to dust
What I thought was love
That must have been lust
I was living in style
When the walls fell in
When I played my hand
I looked like a joker
Turn around
Fate must have woke her
‘Cause lady luck
She was waiting outside the door

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

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

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A Riddle In A Dream

I had a dream in which I ended up wondering, while in the dream, if I’d dreamed what I was thinking. I’ve gone similar routes to this before, but this one ended up as a laugher to me.

I was racing at LeMans in a D type Jaguar. The race had just begun. My co-driver (name not given, never seen), had qualified us, putting us at the front of the grid (but not pole). I was starting the race for the team. I managed a great start, and was battling for the lead.

From my point of view in the open cockpit, another driver and I raced our cars down a long straight, engines screaming, car shaking and vibrating around me. Taking the car to the absolute limit, holding it there, I edged my car’s nose ahead past a competitor on my right.

Now for a surreal bit. There was a small, bright green, bean bag hanging to the left along the straight. Whoever reached the bag and pulled it down was the leader of the first lap. I raced toward it, pulling ahead of the other car. Veering left, I threw my hand up and caught the bean bag.

Wasn’t over, though. We were hurtling toward the final corner. My competition wasn’t making it easy for me. They were holding back to brake at the last second; they also had the inside line, the true racing line. Coming up on the corner, I counseled myself, “Wait, wait,” watching the competitor. When he finally braked I told myself, “Now, brake, downshift, turn.”

I guided the car into the turn. Teetering on the edge of cohesion, the car progressed through the long righthander. Then I was through, in the lead, leading the first lap of LeMans. Jubilation roared through me as crowds cheered me on.

Then, as the segment ended, I pulled into victory lane.

I’d won the race.

Still in the dream, I was stunned. I’d won LeMans. As it was a D type Jag, that was in the fifties. Sitting before my computer, I searched on “Seidel Wins LeMans”.

Then, I thought, hold on. I couldn’t have won LeMans in the fifties; I wasn’t born until 1956.

And in the dream, I wondered, did I dream that? It seemed so real.

As I was about to tell this to my wife, she brought a tall white man and his daughter into the room. I was like, “Excuse me, WTF, who are they, why are they are?” My wife brushed aside my questions.

The child went to play. The man joined me. Reading a newspaper on the desk beside me, he scoffed. “Mansfield is in trouble.” He scoffed again. “I’ve seen this happen before.” He blithered on about some other companies who’d been in trouble. “They’re going to need help. Search for Mansfield and help.”

I did as he directed. I was only typing with one hand, however, and kept screwing up the search. Then, dream shift, I’m in a writing class with other students. The instructor is telling us about four elements. I’m taking notes.

A man comes in and calls my name. He wants to know if I’m okay. “Yes, fine,” I reply, puzzled. The teacher tells the man that I seem fine, why is he interrupting the class to check on me.

“Because he sent a message that said ‘help’ on a computer,” the man replied. “We received his message.”

Realization rising about what happened, laughter spilled out of me. I explained that I’d been trying to do a search on Mansfield needing help but kept screwing up.

Two other men, stocky, with crew cuts, in suits, solemnly brought stacks of books to me. “What are these?” I asked.

“Help books,” one man replied. “You sent so many messages for help, we thought you could use these books for help.”

End dream.

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The Lawyer Dream

Dreamed I was a lawyer. But the courtroom looked like a giant, lit tic-tac-toe, noughts and crosses, or Xs and Os. Standing before the court, it towers over me and my partner, a woman (no one recognized from life) and appears about five stories high. Instead of three across, it was five across.

There’s no idea what the trials were about. I was in a dark suit and carried a brief case, and she was in a light blue skirt and jacket, also carrying a brief case. Presenting arguments meant providing cubes. I’d just put it up there and the cube would slot into place. Putting two in a row meant I’d created a strong argument and would cause those two cubes to light up. Three in a row meant I won.

I kept winning with ease. More and more opposing lawyers rose to stop me but I kept winning. “This is ridiculous,” I told the woman accompanying me.

“I know,” she answered. “It seems like a waste of time. Do you want to go?”

“Sure.” We left.

The cube idea reminded me of how cases were argued in a 1974 novel by Lloyd Biggle, Jr., called Monument, except the cubes in my dream were much, much larger.

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Monday’s Theme Music

Guess I’m in a nostalgic mood. Perhaps it’s the day. With gusty winds, leaves turning yellow and gold and dancing as they leap from trees, a blue sky so clear you can see tomorrow, and a bit of balmy warmth creeping in, it feels like a perfect autumn day. At least, this is how I remember perfect autumn days. They make me want to go somewhere, do things, visit with friends, and chat with nature.

Totally lifts my spirit even while I hunger to beg off the usual routines, jump in the car, and be off. With some amusement, as I did the dress-feed the cats–make breakfast and coffee routine, I was humming sotto voce. Catching the tune, I put words to it with surprise.

The song was from 1981. I was twenty-five then, feeling good about life and prospects. The year’s beginning had us living in base housing at Randolph Air Force Base in Texas, driving a new metallic copper Pontiac Firebird we’d bought the year before. Aunts, uncles, and cousins had moved here from Pittsburgh, PA, and lived nearby, giving us family to visit. Life had an easy rhythm.

By May, we’d sold the car and taken up a new assignment at Kadena Air Base, Okinawa, Japan, a three year tour which began with us living for a few weeks in the base hotel while we bought a used car and found a place to live off base. It was a great adventure.

Here is Santana’s 1981 cover of “Winning”, a song from that time.

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The Game Dream

First was a non-related prelude.

I was with my wife at home. We had a large ginger tabby. He was grooming himself. I thought I saw a flea on his back. I attempted to pluck the flea out, but it moved away. The cat became agitated. After I calmed him, I attempted to get the flea again. Spreading his fur, I saw three fleas. I realized his issue was more pressing than thought, and went to get some tick and flea control. That segment ended.

What I remember of the main dream is pausing from other activities to kill time by playing a card game. I don’t remember anything of the game. Me, my wife, and a friend were playing.

The friend was teaching us the game. In real life, he’s a retired spokesman for Oregon Department of Forestry, dealing with wildfires. He’s a big guy, bearded, with a deep, booming voice, memorable in the dream.

We played the game, and he won the first hand by using all of us cards. He was then dealt cards from the remaining pile. When no cards remained, he played the last of his cards and won the game. He then explained, “Normally, when one person wins by going out, the other people pay them a dollar a card for each card in their hand. What do you guys want to do?” He was smiling as he spoke, and said, “I’m alright if you guys don’t want to do that.”

I only had a few cards but my wife was carrying twenty cards. My personal (dream) opinion was that we shouldn’t play by that rule, not because we were new to the game, or that she had so many cards, but because there were only three of us playing.

That’s where the dream ended.

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The Games Dreams

Last night’s dreams were sooo long and involved, but they all featured two central themes: I was playing games, and I was winning.

At one point in one dream, I’d won some huge prize. I’m on a stage, being cheered. People are crowding around to congratulate me. Ecstatic and incredulous, I kept saying, “I can’t believe I won.”

Later, I was playing another game, and winning, but said, “Why am I playing this game?”

“Who cares?” a man said. “You’re winning.”

I said, “But I don’t like this game.”

He said, “Are you kidding? It’s your dream.”

The moment’s duality caught me. It was my dream, and I was dreaming it, but it wasn’t my dream to play games.

After that, it all made sense.

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