The Cork Dream
I dreamed I was at my mother’s house. It wasn’t her real-life house but I knew what it was in my dream. Although everything was white, there was little light.
I was trying to open some kind of cistern. As it transpired, I knew that it was wine I tried opening, to see how it was. It was supposed to be red wine.
I was being very careful, meticulous, because I worried about the cork falling apart. But it wasn’t the ‘traditional’ cork stopper, but a round, flat circle.
My youngest sister joined me. She asked what I was doing and I softly explained it as she leaned over me and watched. I had just gotten the safely out when something fell into the wine.
I asked my sister, “Did you see that?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Was that a piece of the cork falling in?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.” I sat back. “All that work and I got it out and then it broke and fell in.”
I smiled at her. “Oh, well.”
Laughing, she replied, “I know.”
Sunday’s Theme Music
Ashland, southern Oregon — May 24, 2026.
Home again, home again…
Papi was as pleased as he ever shows himself to be when we opened the back door and called his name. Standing, stretching, he paused to wash, then began to trot towards us, then stopped to stretch, and finally walked over, sat down, washed, and looked up: “Oh. Hi. Didn’t see you there.”
Good to see him.
56 degrees F here, roaring power lawn equipment has replaced the sounds of surf. There’s no beach to ponder, no waves to assess and admire, no fresh ocean air to breath, no ‘sea breeze’ to battle as I walk.
Bummer. It’ll be 85 and dry here…
One thing that struck us yesterday coming home was how empty the roads were. Motor homes were especially absent, but in general, it was light traffic to moderate traffic. Long stretches of secondary roads were driven where we met no other cars, followed no vehicles, and had nothing in our mirrors. It did not seem like the holiday traffic — or even the coastal traffic — we’ve encountered in previous years.
Gina, my younger sister, makes progress selling Mom’s possessions: $530 has been realized. The dining room table, chairs, hutch and sideboard are gone. Gina is wheeling and dealing. Someone shows interest, she reaches out, negotiates, shows them what else is available. More prospective buyers are coming by tomorrow. Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, and polishing is underway. Our oldest sister is driving in from Georgia to help out this week.
Trump says the US is almost close to a peace deal with Iran. Let’s add it to the list of times he said the war was over, we won, or that a deal had been negotiated before.
Iran says that they’ll control the Strait of Hormuz and that their nuclear program isn’t being discussed. They’re proposing ‘fees’ instead of tolls or taxes to use the straits.
It’s the same kind of deals we often see on the local levels when our local government wants to raise money but knows that ‘taxes’ will cause a backlash. The answer: fees. We see it with airlines, too. Security fees, handling fees, administrative fees. Not charges, not taxes, not tolls — fees. I remember once reading that Texas had no taxes but they charged fees on everything.
Besides the Golden Age of Corruption, it’s the Golden Age of Fees.
The war costing our nation a small fortune, monetarily. We also killed many people, disrupted lives, and lost military members.
Economists note that the US has been adding to its national debt at the rate of $5,000,000,000 per day since October of 2025.
In an interest coincidence, October of 2025 is when Trump demolished the White House East Wing to begin building the Epstein ballroom under Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL!
Coincidentally, Trump’s disapproval ratings continue to rise to record levels in polls.
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Today’s music is by Night Ranger. The Neurons unlocked it when I was in bed this morning, remembering dreams and drifting in and out of sleep. During that fugue state, “When You Close Your Eyes” from the 1980s began playing in the morning mental music stream.
As I remembered the song, I also remembered this was one of the songs I heard while visiting Mom and family after returning from Japan on military duty. My youngest sister and I were together. The song came on the radio. She smiled wide and said, “I love this song.” *smile*
And I realized that’s why the song came into the morning mental music stream; that sister had been in my dream as a young person.
I hope this day is going well for you, and you enjoy a day of peace and grace. If you can’t have that, I hope you can at least have a good meal and some happy times.
Cheers
Black & White, Gardening & House: A Dream
I was working on a house. The house was a modern place, already completed, but I felt that changes were needed. I thought it was my house but sometimes as I worked on it, I thought it belonged to someone else. But I felt very sure that I had the right to change things
The house was white, a modern flat roof box. A breezeway separated the house from a spacious garage. The driveway was white, paved, and in excellent condition.
I decided to change the house’s material. I did so almost without thought – just done. As result, the house, which had been white, was now black or charcoal gray.
Family came by and asked why I did that. My father, who died last year, stopped by and asked why I’d changed it. Doing something else, I absently responded that it was a temporary move and that I would return it to white and could do so whenever I wanted.
Dad shrugged. “Well, whatever you want to do,” he said. “That’s your business. I’m sure you know what you’re doing.”
Those were words Dad often used. Sometimes he said, “I hope you know” rather than “I’m sure you know”.
Dad then took me to a garden section. Plants were growing there – tomatoes, onions, carrots, radishes, lettuce. He explained to me what to plant, where to plant it, how to fertilize and water it.
He left, expecting me to continue. I did so but was dissatisfied. He had a lot of starts which he wasn’t using. My sister came along. I was looking at the plants decided not to use. For example, a tomato plant already had several pieces of red fruit on it. I could see it visibly growing, so I decided I would add additional plants. I talked my sister into helping me. Although the plants weren’t as tidy as what Dad had done, I felt they had great potential.
He came by. I showed him what I’d done. Then, almost as an afterthought, I changed the house back to white.
Everyone could immediately see the difference in the house. They all then clamored for me to do that for their houses.
Dream end.
Logging In
I had to go ‘incognito mode’ and log into Gmail. Don’t ask.
I give it my identification. My password.
Okay, my computer tells me. “Go to you phone and click on the link texted to you so we know it’s you.”
I did so.
The computer showed me three numbers in circles. “Now,” it said, “click on the number that corresponds with the number shown on your phone.”
I did so.
“Now,” the computer said. “Hop up and down on your left foot three times and bow to your right.”
I did so.
“Now,” the computer said, “Say Rumpelstiltskin is my name.”
I did so.
I was finally able to log in.
Seriously, I did it all until the hopping part. But I don’t think that’s too far off in the future.
At the Goodwill
My wife and I are on the Oregon coast. We ate a wonderful fresh breakfast at the Fresh Harvest Cafe. Then we hit the local Goodwill.
My wife enjoys visiting Goodwill stores. She likes bargains and she likes re-using things. She did say today, “I’m not buying anything new. I’m death cleaning so whenever I see something I want, I just tell myself, ‘You’ll just have to throw it out.'” Books are the exceptions. We bought four, two for each of us.
Killing time, I wander the store and write a short story in my head. It’s about a future Goodwill. Dystopian situation. A guy ransacks an unused house. There’s a lot of them. Finding a cache of shot glasses, he brings them to the Goodwill. They give him a small bag of peanuts for them. He sits outside in the sunshine, savoring every nut as he eats them.
My sister texted me about her grandson’s birthday. He’s already fifteen, thoroughly discombobulating my brain, which still thinks of him as much younger. His mother is still a teenager in my thoughts. To see that he’s now a teenager is too much. I do the slow math; I was fifty-five when he was born. Time, you know?
Sis tells me that her grandson went to an Escape Room for his birthday. Muses gather in my head to conceptualize fiction about Escape Rooms.
Sis interrupts with a text abut Mom. She’s taken Mom to Urgent Care for another suspected UTI. Mom complains about dizziness as she Mom gets in and out of her wheelchair and the car.
Browsing Goodwill shelves, I see things which might be in my home. I go through an aisle of tools and imagine my tools in there.
I believe I have seen the future.
Leaving the building, I breath in fresh air and smile at the sunshine on my face.
