Tag: work

The Corporate Merger Dream

I was working –

Though I can’t say where or for who, nor anything like that. Wasn’t anything out of real life.

I was a mid-level manager, mostly working alone. Our corporation was merging with another, a larger one. Although it was labeled a merger, the partner would subsume our company.

I’d ended up providing some important information to make it happen, things which were requested at the last minute. I’d worked fast, long, hard, alone, to make that happen.

Now the merger was taking place.

I went outside. Early dusk was falling over a spare, sort of rocky desert landscape with spiky green plants, along with some thick, squat bushes. Meandering out there, I spotted a wolf.

It saw me.

I cautiously moved back. The wolf closed on me. I moved slowly. As the wolf came closer, I saw it was a husky.

The husky and I regarded each other around bushes, wary and curious. I drifted back into work.

Celebrations about the merger were beginning. Cake was being serves, which was fashioned after NFL teams. My cake was based on the Steelers and had black frosting.

I ate my cake and enjoyed it, then wandered. Speeches were being made. The CEO walked by to make a speech, pausing to slap me on the shoulder and say hello to me.

I moved on, encountering a pair of young men. They were by a pipe. Light lime green water gushed out of the pipe into a large square bright metal pan. The two men sat by it watching. One said to me, “They were asking who you were.”

“Do you mean me?” I responded.

“Yes, they were asking, who are you?”

“Did they mean me or you? I think the know who I am.”

“The new people wanted to know who you were because you were mentioned a few times. They wondered why.”

Shrugging that off, I went back outside to the same landscape. As I walked, I saw orange stripped cats doing different things. A clowder of dark gray kittens were playing at another place. I wondered where the husky was and if the cats were safe.

Dream end.

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Fired At Work Dream

I was working for a small startup. Don’t know what the business was supposed to be but the dream featured many real-life co-workers. Among these was a person I worked for, LD; LD fired in my dream.

The firing shocked me. But I had made a stand against not doing something which LD advocated that I found shady. (That, BTW, is completely contrary to LD’s real-world ethics.) Telling me that I was fired, LD added that I was being given $28,000 in severance, along with $6K to $8K in other expenses. Not a bad package but I still brooded over being fired. Given till the day’s end to clear out my desk, coworkers, the CEO, and several of the directors from other departments, came by, expressing support for me.

I then had to feed the cat. That was my real-life cat, Jade, who passed away twenty years ago. Not feeding her right was apparently part of the complaint against me, which I found laughable as she gobbled up the food I gave her.

Then I left. I ended up hitching a ride with four co-workers in a red VW Beetle. Two of them were female. A friend of mine from current real-life, Bob, was present. Bob was very drunk and angry about me being fired. He was playing something called ‘the dictionary game’. I couldn’t figure it out. Bob, having won, got out of the car to go home. He beat on the car’s window then, telling me that they were wrong to fire me. Then he walked off.

Dream end

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Friday’s Theme Music – Golden Years

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 20, 2026.

It’s 70 F under bright sunshine this morning. A high of 90 is expected. Papi has already out to sleep through the heat in a comfortable space.

The Mitch McConnell pool remains open. Is he or isn’t he alive? He hasn’t been seen in public since June 14. People kept insisting they spoke with him but never offer proof. I suspect some mad scientist is probably trying to reanimate McConnell, or tech bros developing an AI version of him.

I can see the new Roberts Court ruling: “AI are people, too.”

Reminds me of an old nursery rhyme. “Fe fi fo fum, I smell the blood of a Republican. Be he live or be he dead, there’s not enough there to fit between my bread.”

My wife and I were talking last night about how things were before. It was mostly about our lives and bodies and their changes, but the conservation expanded in multiple directions.

One question that arose was, did we ever live in a golden age? Neither of us thought so. We used to work hard, budget money carefully, save. We were not extravagant people. Still aren’t. That kept us secure and safe. But we were young and healthy, with that glow that anything was possible.

We believed our society would keep moving forward and work closer together to solve what seems like insurmountable problems. Now, with Trump in the White House and most Republicans with their heads planted where the sun doesn’t shine, we have no faith that all the progress we thought had been made would continue.

For laughs, I reminded my wife that Trump said that we’re living in a golden age.

She mimed gagging, choking, and puking in response. Her follow up was, “Only if you’re wealthy. But every era is a golden age if you have enough money.”

No matter how well some might be doing now, as Trump attacks programs that aid the impoverished and needy, I can’t ever think of this period as a golden age or golden years. Since Trump began his second term, overall prices have not fallen. Real wages have declined and economic growth has not accelerated. Manufacturing employment continues to decline and the national debt keeps growing.

To distract us from noticing this, Trump attacks others. Right now, Trump is attacking Iran — again — after declaring that conflict over.

With his history — three marriages, cheating on his wives, numerous affairs, multiple business bankruptcies, the Epstein files, and a campaign strewn with broken promises — Trump can’t be trusted. How can I ever believe him when he says we’re in a golden age?

I don’t see the evidence for a golden age. My wife and I are in a golden age in the sense that we don’t organize our lives around our employment schedules. That sort of freedom is golden, if you’re financially secure. That’s a big caveat in the US. As for the rest of life, this is not a golden age.

Which takes me to the music. Today we have David Bowie singing “Golden Years” in the morning mental music stream. Came out in 1975.

For me the lines which matter from this song are,

“Run for the shadows, run for the shadows

“Run for the shadows in these golden years.”

Yes, run for the shadows.

Golden years are supposed to be a time of prosperity, happiness, and satisfaction. We seem to have some distance to that goal right now.

My hope for you is you have a golden day — one of prosperity, happiness, and satisfaction.

Cheers

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Friday’s Theme Music – Pretending

Ashland, southern Oregon — Friday, July 3, 2026.

Hot is the word for today. 90 is our expected high. It’s sunny but windy, with a blue sky coping with several blue clouds.

It’s funny to me how Papi awakens me every morning at about 5:50. Today was a little later, 5:57. I wonder about the little clock in his head. More correctly, it seems to be a stomach alarm. “More food, please, hurry.” Which I do. Which he probably wouldn’t ask for if this habit hadn’t been established. Which came about with previous cats and my work schedule. Some things endure change. *smile*

I was looking at the area weather statistics for June. Although we ended on a cool streak, we were 2.5 degrees above average for the month. There were no days when we exactly hit the average.

My body, mind, and spirit feel very strong today. Thank you to everyone who took time to send me positive energy. Send it to others now more in need, please, as I’m doing good.

There’s no escaping Trump today. He’s encountered most days in this era, lying, gloating, boasting, mocking, demeaning. Too often, there’s an announcement accompanied by his smirking visage, and I just respond, ugh.

We have the terrible circumstances that a wealthy man interested only in himself ‘leading’ the government as we celebrate our nation’s beginnings. It feels like a low point. Yes, we’ve been polarized and demoralized before as a country. There have been scandals like Watergate, Contragate, Teapot Dome. There’s been crises like the Cuba Missiles Crises, and so many, many wars. Disasters were endured; pandemics. Assassinations. I didn’t live through many of these and rely on reports others made. I’m living through this, though, and I don’t like it.

What is funny is how fast and consistently MAGA pivots to cover Trump. They embrace his explanations and excuses, ignore his broken promises, and dismiss his lies and convictions in court as meaningless. As they depress me, I turn further and further away from their concerns…

In many ways, I think MAGAts are pretending that Trump speaks for them. They’re pretending that life under him is what they voted for and wanted. They pretend that he’s not misleading them, dismissing them, forgetting them as he grows wealthier and they often grow poorer. Weaker. Sicker.

The real question is, how will they feel when Trump is gone and their situation is not better for any of them except the wealthy? Who will they blame? Where will they turn?

As Trump is already ranked at or near the bottom of historic ratings, I believe that the Trump Era will gain a place in our nation’s history as a dark, low time.

With those of pretending populating my thoughts, The Neurons cranked up “Pretending” in the morning mental music stream. Eric Clapton wrote and recorded it but Jerry Lynn Williams wrote it. With lines like these, it feels right for this Trumpishly diminished day:

“How many times must we tell the tale? How many times must we fall? Living in lost memory you just recall.”

“That’s when I knew she was pretending. Pretending to understand.”

May you find joy and peace in your hours today, happiness in your night, and love in your heart.

Coffee is at hand again. Time to write. Cheers

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A Camaro Dream

I’d just signed a contract. Half of the money due me was paid and the other half would come later.

I was going next to visit my family. I decided I would surprise them. I bought four condos which were exactly the same, along with four 1968 Chevy Camaros, also exactly the same. Everything was in excellent condition. I can’t tell you what color the cars were, except they were immaculately polished and gleamed in the light.

I would be staying in one condo but I expected my sisters and Mom to stay in the other condos with their families. I would drive one Camaro; they would drive the rest.

Here it gets a little hazy. It’s about the keys. Whenever I got the keys for the cars or condos, there would be a green light.

I went to leave to meet with my sister, driving the Camaro I was giving her. First, I had to stop. There was unfinished business, leaves which needed to be moved away for Dad. I did most of those very fast, with the car door open and the engine running, then went off and picked up my sister and her son.

I told my sister to drive and told her the car was hers. She didn’t fully understand. I took her to the condos. Oddly, the three condos for the family were on one floor; my condo was alone, stacked on top of them.

I told my sister and nephew that this is where I’m staying and that it’s where I wanted them to stay as well. My sister worried about the expense. I kept telling her that I’d bought it and already paid for it.

Another sister arrived with her husband. I gave them the keys to their Camaro and showed them the four cars. They responded, “That’s nice.” I explained a few times that I was giving them the car. They finally got it and were shocked. My brother-in-law kept talking about the cars’ “mint condition”.

Other family arrived. Some young man from the condos came to help people with baggage. He asked, “Which condo is yours?” He seemed concerned about so many people staying in one condo.

I explained to him that I owned four of them but that I was giving three of them to my sisters and mother. I gave him the keys to their three condos. Catching on, he responded, “That cost a fortune.”

Mom was there, in her nurse’s uniform. She worried that she had to go to work. I kept telling her that she didn’t, but she was insistent.

It was raining, with light flooding. To go to work, Mom had to cross a muddy, swampy stream. I didn’t want her to cross because I didn’t think she would make it. But she went. As I watched, she fell into a hole and went underwater. I began rushing forward to help her but a large man showed up on the other side. Reaching down, he lifted Mom, drenched and covered with mud and weeds, and set her down on the other side.

Dream end.

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A Complex Dream of Instructions and Help

It was a complex dream, shifting as ocean waves with a brisk wind. As I thought about it, I distilled it into these general scenes, but it wasn’t quite this linear.

Younger, I was sometimes in the military, sometimes in some other work, seamlessly moving from one to the other from scene to scene. Most of the background was dark, but as if I was in office buildings.

At one point, a guy came by and gave me a silver computer. “Your instructions are on here,” he said. I nodded, understanding, ready to go to work, confident about how to proceed.

Opening the laptop, I brought up the guidance and sat back in surprise. These instructions were different. No worries; I’d figure it out. Probably just take longer.

I was called into another area. It was a small space, and dark. In there were two high-ranking Air Force general officers, small but slender and fit. I wasn’t there to see them. Passing behind the higher ranking one, I heard him describing someone.

I said without thinking, “Oh, you’re talking about – “

I stopped myself from finishing the sentence because I felt I’d overstepped. Then I apologized.  

The general gave me a sharp look and then nodded once. “You’re right. Good job.”

Leaving there, I went back to my dark office space and reclaimed my seat, reading to resume my work. Two other people came by. They’d received their instructions but weren’t sure how to do it.

Laughing, I gave them some insights about how to proceed. We chatted for a few more seconds before they left and I resumed work, pleased about what I was doing.

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A Meeting & A Wedding Dream

Dreamed I was at a fancy business dinner. Large, round white tables set across a ballroom, bar in the corner. I’d just arrived and set up was underway. Two of my previous bosses were there. The fete was due to begin in an hour or so.

Participants, including me, had been asked to create some entertainment. I’d created a word jumble. Then my former boss said, “And please provide an answer sheet.”

Uh oh. I hadn’t created that. I went to get the notebook where I’d made it, knowing that I used one of those black and white lab notebooks that I always favored. I’d thrown it away because the notebook was full. I went to a gray, wheeled, large garbage cans sitting there and began going through the trash. People asked me to explain. I reluctantly did, with a grin, and was met with sympathy.

One unfamiliar elderly woman came by and said, “I know what you’re going through. I’ve done that.”

Shrugging, I replied, “If I can’t find it, I’ll just have to solve the jumble.”

Dad was there, putting silverware on tables. He said, “Maybe you used one of these notebooks, Michael.”

I knew I hadn’t because the ones he showed me weren’t the right kind. But I said, “Good idea, I’ll check.” And made a show of checking a few.

That dream segment ended. Another began.

I went to a counter crowded with product and was a little confused. My wife was there, along with several others, including a man behind a counter. I learned they were talking about my hair! Some products had been ordered and had arrived.

I had my own things to do/try for my hair, here and back home, so I was a little puzzled and annoyed. My wife said, “Everyone wants you to look pretty for the wedding.” I think I dimly knew a sister was getting married but didn’t know who.

The man wanted me to try the products. I wanted him to back off but didn’t say anything. I suggested, “Let me brush my hair so we can see what it looks like first.”

I didn’t have a brush, mirror, or comb, so I used my hands, and then asked my wife, “How does this look?”

She hemmed and hawed, not able to decide, which vexed me.

Dream end.

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Another Michael Dream

I was at some resort/business conference, mixing business with pleasure. Younger, I was traveling alone but had met with a group, mostly male, but a few female acquaintances. No relatives were present.

Everything was going smoothly. Prizes were being given out, assignments made, directions planned. While off on my own to one side, sitting, I ran into a former female boss. She asked about my health. I told her about my tendon surgery, showing her where the incision had been made. Then I reminded her that she’d known about that. Agreeing, she wished me well and moved on.

I then moved to another place, a tall table with a chair, to wait for friends. A man passed. I knew of him – elderly, with silvery gray hair, dignified, and gay. I also knew his name was Michael, same as mine. We exchanged nods as greetings.

My name was called to pick up a package, I went to a counter cluttered with packages. One was given to me. As I looked at the name, I saw the first name was Michael but a Spanish surname followed. I knew it was the dignified man’s name and pointed out that this wasn’t my package. I was told that the other guy had turned it down, so it was being given to me, and that I should take it and like it because it was a better package than what I would get.

I went off with that and ran into friends, explaining the package thing with them. Then I returned to the tall table and chair.

The dignified Michael passed several more times. I chatted with him, flirting with him about his plans. He was amused but kept quiet.

I then went to be with another group. More prizes were being given out, and I was again given dignified Michael’s package. I then commented that I kept receiving his package instead of mine.

I stripped off my clothes and was in a neon orange speedo. I decided to walk a back over to where food was now being given out. Although I was almost naked and was drawing attention in my bright speedo, I was comfortable, and heard women whispering how good I looked, which made me grin inside. I then got to the counter where I was given a third, larger package for the other Michael.

Dream end.

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