Tag: women

Another Book Dream

I was sitting somewhere, familiar to me in the dream, but unfamiliar to me in real life. Several acquaintances came up and chatted with me. On a white wall to my left were six pieces of art. One woman asked, “What are those.”

I explained that they were books in progress with a smile, that needed to be finished. She selected one, took it down, and started flipping through it. Suddenly she started. “That character has my name.”

Yes, I acknowledged. “You were in mind when I named the character.”

She continued through the pages. “I like this. You should finish it.”

I nodded. “That’s the plan.”

She passed the piece to another person who asked for it. The second person went through it and said, “I like this, too.”

She handed it to me. I flipped it open and began going through it, then stopped. “I know how this ends. It just came to me.”

Both stared at me. “It just came to you?” one asked. “Just like that?”

“Yes. I’m going to finish this now.”

I spent the rest of the dream writing and rewriting that book. It took some weird turns. At one point, I stopped to watch golfers. Green, brown, and orange golf balls were in use, and they were playing on a mountain, hitting the balls down toward greens in valleys far below. After one teed off, the watching gallery emitted a long and low moan of appreciation and then began hitting golf balls down into the valley.

“What are they doing?” a woman seated with me asked.

I smiled. “They’re hitting golf balls down. I think they’re supposed to help locate the original ball.”

“How?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

I went back to work on the book. Sometimes as I worked on it, the print on the page was purple. Other times, the pages flared in bright purple. Yes, purple prose came to me in the dream, to giggles.

By the dream’s end, the novel was finished. I awoke very satisfied.

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The Hair Dream

I was the new guy in a small group of males. Basically smartasses and lower class with leanings toward crime and goofing off, I don’t know how I met them but was hanging around with them. They kept discounting me and making fun of me. I decided changes were needed and thought the way to do that was with my hair. So off I went to get dreadlocks.

A stylist eagerly did as I asked. I emerged with long black dreadlocks when I’d had brown hair before, with the crown being literally a crown of short dreads.

I went back and joined the group at a short track where a car race was scheduled to take place. All were surprised and taken back. One or two made fun of me for it. Then we split up. Most headed in to watch the race but one other and I stayed back, sort of watching the group’s belongings in a small corner by a counter. Catching my image in a mirror, I was horrified. “I look terrible,” I said. “Ridiculous. What was I thinking?”

The other guy, a short, white almost bald fellow said, “Well, I admire what you did. Took balls. I respect that.”

“Really? But it looks like crap.”

“Yes, but you did something.”

I met a woman who wanted to go into the track but wasn’t certain how to go about it. I asked where she wanted to go in there. “By turn two,” she answered. “Come on,” I said, “I’ll take you there.”

I took her in through the crowd. As I did, a young black woman paused to tell me with a wide smile, “I really like your hair.”

“Thanks,” I answered, pleased, amused. Showing the woman to turn two, I moved back through the crowd to the outside. Another young black woman accosted me, saying, “Nice hair.”

I encountered a white female friend as I left the race track. “What did you do to your hair?” she asked.

“I know,” I said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m going to see if it can be fixed.” But I was thinking, it’ll probably need to be cut. Then it’ll take a long time to grow back. While this went through my head, a young black woman said, “I’m sorry but I overheard what you said. I hope you don’t change your hair. I think it looks really good on you.”

Dream end.

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Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

My wife and I had a minor disagreement the other day.

I had surgery to repair a ruptured tendon last year, in October, 2024. I’ve had pain of various kinds since then. One source of pain was along toes three to five, which was often stiff with burning pain. I’d mentioned it to my surgeon, as it began during my convalescence from surgery. He said that it sounds like a nerve was damaged. I felt the same. Although I’m not a medical expert or doctor, etc., I broke and dislocated a wrist in my late twenties. Pins casts immobilized that wrist and arm. I suffered from a burning, painful sensation along the pin sites after they were removed. My doc back then told me it was probably nerve damage. It did go away after about twenty years. This foot pain felt just like that pain.

While walking the other day, I felt a sudden sharp and painful snap in my foot where the toe pain resides. After gasping and slowing for a second, I resumed walking. Lo, that foot pain was gone. It hasn’t come back.

I was so elated. I went home and told my wife. She responded, “Why is this the first that I’m hearing about this?”

One, it wasn’t the first she was hearing about it. She’d forgotten me mentioning it, but I spoke about in early January of this year. I don’t blame her for forgetting it. We don’t remember everything we’re told.

Two was a broader philosophical position. Basically, I don’t tell her about every pain I endure. I’m aging, and have pains from time to time. Feet, ankle, hips, neck, shoulder, back, abdomen, eyes, etc. Those pains often go away. Their duration can last anywhere from a few hours to a week. Sometimes they limit movement, and more rarely limit my activities. My point is, pain comes and goes. I prefer to not complain. And then means, to me, not mentioning.

And there’s a little history in that. Number one was Mom. Mom as a mother often told us to stop crying, stop whining, stop complaining. She wanted us to be happy children. If we couldn’t be happy, she wanted us to be quiet.

Then there’s history with my wife about this. Long ago, when I was twenty, I was severely sick for several days. We didn’t see doctors back then for things like that. Basically vomiting, not eating, listless, sweating a lot, lot of pain. That pain resulted in some moaning and groaning.

Yeah, I got over it and lived. But about a year later, my wife was speaking to others and talked about what a baby I was when I was sick and hurt. That insulted and angered me. I told her so when we were alone. It since became a theme for her to talk about how often men complain about being sick or hurt when women are so much hardier, and more willing to endure. I finally mentioned to my wife that I disliked this reductivism about men and pain. She’s done it off and on since, and once, after seeing me give her a look when she made such a statement, apologized and claimed that she wasn’t including me. Since then, she’s slowly drifted out of the habit.

But this is how we evolve. We have our basic attitudes and tendencies, and then we react to our environment. Part of that is how we react to what we hear. What is said about us, especially by those we love, admire, and trust. Maybe I’m being thin-skinned, but words matter. Part of my problem, too, is that I seem to have a very strong memory. I don’t easily forget or forgive.

I guess that’s my bottom line.

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Fun Dream

There I was, trapped like a hunted animal, weapon in hand, growling in my throat as I firmed my spirit and mind to fight back.

Naw, it wasn’t anything like that. I was there to play a game. Don’t ask me what the game was; the dream assumed I knew that. There were four to a side. A female teammate and I were waiting to take the field. We were on a platform overlooking the game space. That space wasn’t large.

Besides us on that platform was a younger person, a black-haired white woman. She was part of the team we were playing next. She wordlessly walked between my teammate and me and moved to a corner where she stopped, leaning back against the railing. I knew of her but I didn’t know her. We’d previously played.

Crossing to her, I said, “Listen, I hope I didn’t hurt you before.” Yes, apparently during a previous game, I’d blocked her pretty roughly. “The move went awry and wasn’t executed as well as it could have been.”

Suddenly brightening, she answered, “Oh, no, it’s all good. That was pretty bang, bang. There’s not much we can do when the game is on, and you were in a zone. You played fantastic. I can’t fault you for anything.”

Her response surprised me. We chatted. My teammate joined in. We all became friendlier. Then we were called to play.

I was guarding my new friend, aggressively tracking her. She had the ball, which was round and brown like a basketball. She could bounce or carry it but could only be the one with the ball for a limited time, which a red-numbered timer tracked. As I harried her, blocking her moves, she threw the ball right to me.

This excited fans and the announcer. I hadn’t noticed either before this. A roar went up. The announcer shouted, “She threw the ball right to him! She threw the ball right to him!” My opponent was upset but regained her poise to come after me.

Seeing an opening, I passed the ball to a of teammates who were in scoring position. Incredibly, the guy who was supposed to catch it and pass it on bobbled the ball. Now it was my turn for disappointment and frustration.

Unfortunately, that’s where the dream ended.

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Sattida’s Theme Music

Welcome, welcome, welcome. It’s Sattida, March 8, 2025. The spelling for today is inspired by memory of how one of my younger sisters used to pronounce the day. She was a sunny child. When I laughed and teased her about the way she said it, she glowered with thunder cloud intensity. That put an end to that.

Right now, we’re a 39 F but it’s climbing fast as the big swirling ball of energy breaches the blue sky. An upper limit of 64 F is expected, the weather ‘they’ tell us.

Happy International Women’s Day. International Women’s Day (IWD), marked annually on March 8, is a global day of recognition celebrating the social, economic, cultural and political achievements of women while also calling for increased gender equality.

This day has evolved from its early 20th-century socialist roots to a worldwide observance embraced by the United Nations and countless organizations globally.

The observance dates back to the first International Women’s Day in 1911 when over one million people across Europe protested for women’s suffrage and labor rights, according to UN Women.

Women are still protesting for women’s suffrage and labor rights, over 114 years later. As others note, as we witness it, the progress they’ve made is reversible. Many men will state things like, “I think it was a mistake to give women the right to vote.” So, apparently men are born with that right, but men gave it to women. What a crock of maladjusted, egotistical thinking.

The Neurons invited an Elton John song into the morning mental music stream. “Your Song” has lyrics written by Bernie Taupin. Released in 1970, I was fourteen. I found the song to be introspective, a person thinking about who they are, what they want, and where they’re going. That felt perfect for me in that age and era. Bernie wrote the song but Elton John found the inflections and tone to sharpen the focus and enrich the words’ sensibilities.

It’s in me this morning because of dreams. Not a specific dream but the way my dreams lifted me up. I admittedly view the world through a lens of disappointment. We we do not live up to our potential to be so much more. We seem to be regressing, perhaps even devolving. It could be true that we’re doing both of those things, and pondering the mechanics and influences which might make them true is a challenging bit of logic work on its own. Despite my outward anger and disappointment, I constantly experience uplifting and reassuring dreams these days. Like our state of the world, the why behind these dreams are worthy of their own thinking and writing time. We’re still explaining dreams as a species, trying to understand what creates them. Either way, my dreams’ uplifting nature feels like a gift. I’m just not sure who is sending it to me.

“Your Song” wasn’t featured in a dream, though, no. It came about from my thinking, “It’s funny how I feel inside despite my pessimism and disappointment.” It was a short flea jump from that bridge to Elton John’s opening vocals, “It’s a little bit funny, this feeling inside.”

Hope your Sattida lives up to your needs and hopes. Coffee has been welcomed into my gullet once again. Time to rock another day. Cheers

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Thurzda’s Wandering Political Thoughts

Many of us who oppose Trump, whether he’s running for office, in office, or just breathing, have consistently pointed out that he uses others. Yet people voted for him by remarking that he speaks for them. And we replied, “Then you’re racist. Sexist. Anti-knowledge. Anti-history. Anti-fact. Anti-science.”

PINO Trusk is proving us right. His supporters and the low-information voters may never realize it. Okay, one to three percent might. (Isn’t that two percent? Yes, and that’s based on some marketing knowledge I acquired years ago.) But what’s that about action speaking louder than words?

‘Equity,’ ‘trauma’, ‘women’, and ‘female’ are among the words that could bring research grants under scrutiny in the US. The National Science Foundation (NSF) is reviewing thousands of ongoing grants to ensure compliance with executive orders issued by former President Donald Trump during his first week in office. These orders mandate the recognition of only two genders, scale back diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) initiatives, and have led to the creation of a list of words whose use may trigger a review of funding, according to internal documents reviewed by The Washington Post.

Can it be more clearly stated that you’re sexist if you don’t allow the word ‘women’ to be written? Over half of the population of the United States are women. A vibrant and critical part of how we arrived here as a species and civilizaton, and women can’t be mentioned in National Science Foundation reports in the new Trusk administration.

How fucking backward is that? I thought Trusk, the GOTP, and Project 2025 wanted to drive us back into the 1800s. Wrong; they’re going further than that. Women as a word has been in use since the 12th century. That’s how far back the Trusk administration and the rignions — right-wing minions — are trying to take us.

“He speaks for us, he’s one of us.” And that’s why Alabama went big for Trump in 2024.

They’re probably pretty happy about their pretty situation now.

Here’s how much NIH cuts could cost UA, Tuscaloosa

President Trump’s tariffs: Why Alabama’s thriving car industry will see biggest impact

Trump’s job reduction order could hit most at this major Huntsville employer

Trump executive order leads to $100 energy bill hike for hundreds in Alabama

Alabama Arise: Federal funding cuts could undermine healthcare, education, vital services

Yep, less than a month in, and it’s all going great for Alabama!

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A Hybrid Dream

I called this one a hybrid dream. My ‘anxiety dreams’ often circle around my long-ago military career. Now my psyche has folded some of my civilian occupations into the mix.

This one began with me working with programmers. While they were busy on the daily stuff required for the present, I was focused on a transition planned for several years down the road. We were installing a new ‘smart’ support system. I was creating test scenarios. At one point, I stopped for a break and overheard someone say that the implementation date would be 2032.

2032. My spirit sagged. I’m going to be forced to wait that long for results?

The dream shifted. Now I’m at work in a military command post as I did for years. I’m working alone in the facility, monitoring different systems. While going back to get supplies, I notice a light blue telephone frame room door ajar. After another second, gathering someone is in there, I head back to the console area to call the security police.

The console is a mess. Phones aren’t where I expected them to be. I can’t find a hotline to the SPs. What the hell, there aren’t any hotlines to anywhere. What kind of command post is this? A dream twist causes me to get distracted. I begin cleaning and organizing the command post, cursing it as I do. What the hell is wrong with this organization that they let it get like this?

Going past the blue frame room door, I realized that I’d forgotten about the person in there. Now I see a woman leave that room. Past her is a cot, chair, clothing, and a small camping table. She’s living in there! Now, using a radio, I notify the security police.

They immediately arrive and take her into custody. Then I realize, I’m out of the console area, and I’m locked out. The console area is never supposed to be unmanned. What is wrong with me?

I hasten to get myself back inside. A person who works for me, a female, is just entering, so she let’s me in I hurry to the console. She accompanies me. We’re chatting, and then I remember and tell her, “I’m behind. I didn’t do my shift checklist, inventory the communications security gear, update the log.”

She says, “Wow, you are behind.”

I begin doing those things. Unlocking and opening the communications security safe, house to all the code books and crypto, I find food inside. “What the hell?”

Taking the food out, I stack it neatly. It comes to me that someone else stored the food there but I don’t know their intention. It looks like candy for Halloween, Valentine’s Day, Christmas, Easter. I organize it and start giving it away.

Dream end.

1

Three Pieces of Dream

A long and chaotic dream won the morning memory. There was another dream about having sex with a French woman in a desert after being accused of some crime, but it’s not a sharply recalled.

First I was with a group of friends, all males. We’d been out having a good time in the outdoors and were now filthy. Many of these people were real life familiars from across my stretch of existence and life stages. I was young and it was sunny. Many more groups of similiar people were out there on a large, dusty, gold-sun plain, like knots of bison congregating around a larger herd.

A sudden call to go get a beer put us in motion. We ran along, laughing and eager. We were going to have a beer! “Don’t worry, I have chits from last night,” I shouted, holding up discolored pieces of white paper. I reached a table and sat, still outside, but now on a plateau. My friends were coming but were behind. I pulled out the chits and discovered, they were chits; they were just torn pieces of paper. Some fluttered out of my hand and dropped into the mud as my friends arrived and I explained, “I don’t have chits after all.”

We all set out to go somewhere and were now downtown in what looked like a small city. Without preamble, I decided that I’d had enough and started in another direction. I was soon running in the streets alone but as I turned a corner, I saw ‘my crowd’ running in parallel in the other direction. They saw and recognized me and called out, but I’d kept going in the other direction, alone.

I arrived at my wife’s mother’s house. I knew that’s what it was even though it was nothing like any of her places in real life. My wife was there, along with my sister-in-law. She was sitting crossed-legged on the ground. As I see her in that scene after awakening, she looks as she did as a young pregnant woman in a photo taken of her when she lived in New Mexico. Giving no warning, she pulled her breast to feed an infant. I was a little surprised but then went, okay, she’s comfortable with it, and my wife, beside me, showed no reaction, so I should be okay, too.

I went off because I noticed my mother-in-law was busy digging. In real life, she passed away about six years ago. She was about the age she was when I first met her, mid-forties, in my dream. I spoke with her briefly but don’t remember what we said, and then wandered around the yard to see what she was doing. She’d dug a moat around her house. Then, I thought, she expanded an existing moat. It wasn’t large as moats go, about a yard wide, and didn’t seem deep. Water lilies floated in places. I discovered little tiles. Two inches square, I realized that she was going to ourline her moat with them.

The first one I turned over was scarlet. I put it in place on the moat to see what it looked like. Next, I found one that was yellow. I took out the red one and put the the yellow one in. It was a soft yellow, not as bright as a lemon. Next, I found a sage green tile. As I was going to put it in, I heard a man calling. A tall male stranger, dressed in a tie with a rust colored corduroy and tan pants and large, handlebar mustache was walking up, telling me how much he liked the yellow tile because it was a bold and striking color, and he approved my choice. I was just beginning to explain to him what was going on when another man in a charcoal business suit came up, urging me to go with the first color, the red, because it looked sharp against the water and grass. As these two began talking about the tiles, I turned over a third one, which was sage green. That was my preference, but I also thought that a pattern using all three colors could be made.

I went back to tell my MIL that, which is where the dream ended.

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Wezda’s Theme Music

Mood: sunshiny

Man, it’s a gorgeous day outside my windows. My first look was south and west. Blue sky. A few clouds and contrails. Sunshine. Appeared to be a late fall day. A litle deceiving as further gazing brought out frost speckling the bare earth and laying on roofs. Temp was 30 F. High of 51 could be. After looking out that side and inhaling sunshine, I headed for the back windows and a view to the east and south. Still sunny. Woo hoo.

Amazed and amused how the MSM addressed PINO-elect Trump’s Monday comments. These were regarding the possible invasion of other countries. Adding states like Panama, Canada, and Greenland. No doubt he (DJT) loves the attention he gets from saying such garbage. It also distracts from the real business taking place. Like he’s the Wizard of Trump, faking people out, insisting, pay no attention to the man behind the curtains. But a CNN article summarized Trump’s comments as — paraphrasing — different from presidents of both parties in the last few decades. Yeah, NS; you’d need to go back in history for a point where the POTUS was talking about taking land from other countries. I guess they felt a need to make a sober and unbiased statement about it.

Of course, if you’re talking about invading other countries, you know, just for the sake of that other country and, you know, freedom and democracy, or regime change, you don’t need to go so far. And just like true Republicans of the last few decades, they’re eager to look at other countries — say, the UK — and declare how that country needs to be changed while ignoring the shit conditions their policies build at home. Their vision is often shaped by greed, so it’s frequently myopic and narrow. They are very good at Orwell-speak though, and doubletalk, so they can’t be discounted. And, with a third of the country voting them in and a third not voting at all, well, hell, they feel a mandate to do whatever they want has been achieved.

Good news on the social media front. Women can now be called household objects on Meta platforms. I’m sure that will advance the causes of freedom of speech and democracy. Yep, that was snark.

The sunny weather has inspired today’s theme music. Live local, right? So looking out those windows and seeing sunshine, The Neurons adopted a cheerful attitude and put “On the Sunny Side of the Street” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark warming). Mom played versions of the song by several while I was a child. I became familiar with versions by L. Armstrong, T. Dorset, D. Day, and Nat King Cole, among others. I checked out several versions online and stayed with Satchmo on The Ed Sullivan Show. Hope you found it favorable as your day’s theme music. I find it a song that’s amenable to lyric variations. Fer instance, I used to sing, “Life can be so sweet with a cat sitting on your feet.” That was inspired by our cat, who liked to sit on our feet. Strange girl but ever so sweet.

Coffee and I ground out an agreement in the kitchen. Here’s the music, and away we go. Have a good Wezda, Jan 8, 2025. Cheers

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The Tigers Dream

A bit of a shambolic dream IMO.

There’d been some sort of apocalypse. Buildings and cities remained but the people were gone. Well, most. Handfuls of survivors roamed. I was one of them. We were extremely wary of one another. I somehow came to be with another man (no one known in real life). He and I had established a sort of fortress for ourselves. Large, well lit, mostly white with wooden accents, the hallways were broad and tall. Snug and comfortable, we were well-stocked and sure we’d survive. The big question hampering us was, but survive to what end? We halfheartedly spoke of it but reached no conclusions.

As I went through one section of our fortress, enjoying sunshine streaming through high windows, I discovered two deer in a room. That surprised me but turning, I realized that another room had two huge tigers. Bent on going after the deer, the tigers didn’t seem to notice me. Sneaking over, I closed the door on the tigers’ room. Then I closed the door on the deers’ room so they wouldn’t wander through our place. I was confused about how the animals had gotten in and also worried about how we were going to get them back out.

Going around to find my partner to warn him about the tigers and tell him about the deer, I found people trying to get into the front door. That was an all-glass area, and I could see them. Seeing me, they called out for me to let them in.

Scene shift.

Now we had like a little village going and were helping others. An enormous number of tigers were prowling. I figured they must have all escaped from zoos and then procreated. I kept encountering them but none ever threatened me. They didn’t even seem to notice I was there. But others were oblivious to the tigers, and I’d need to rush forward and give them warning. Most of them that I warned were children and women.

In parallel to this, I began collecting computers and testing them to see if they worked. When they didn’t, I’d take them apart to see what parts were needed and then go look for parts. I soon had a collection of many parts and had several computers going.

Then I was distracted from working on them by a leopard threatening a group of children. A leopard was a surprise; I’d not seen any before. Tail slashing back and forth, the leopard gazed at me as I approached. Yelling, “Shoo, shoo,” and making a shooing motion, I jumped toward it. Snarling a bit, the animal turned and left.

Dream end.

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