Dream - I am in a TV reality show

On Saturday morning, January 17, 2009, I had a dream about being in a contest. It was part of a game for TV, some kind of reality thing. A total of at least three people, and maybe four or even five, were in it.

At first we were staying at a place in a neighborhood, at some house, apparently between McDowell and Thomas Roads, maybe between Oak Street and Thomas. We were going through the streets completing the first part of the game, trying to find or do something and get to the goal first, which was some house in the neighborhood. I think we had to bring what was found there, though identifying which house may have been part of the goal. Cameramen were around, recording everything.

Then it was the next day I think, at night, We were doing the third and last part, going through rooms in a big, low building. It was being filmed live. We occasionally went past the host, to at least within a few feet of him. He was standing watching in a hallway or something like that, turning as necessary to keep track of us, though we were not aways together.

We found some small things with wax paper wrappers around them. They were fairly flat and around an inch by an inch and a half, and seemed to be some kind of chewing or bubble gum. The wrappers had printing on them and we thought part of it was a clue to how to complete the game. Somewhere in the jostling and running back and forth I had lost my glasses, and was holding the wrapper and looking at it in different directions in different lights, trying to read it. Though I could read the letters, the light never seemed to be bright enough to easily do so.

Then I was told that the game was over. I had to be told it, I didn't realize it had happened. I thought, "Well, it's over, then, and I didn't win, that's that." I left without my glasses.

I was picked up by my mother and her sister, my aunt. My aunt was in the car in the parking lot, waiting. We were apparently around McKellips and Scottsdale Roads, maybe a little farther south.

I went back the next day and had them look for my glasses. It was not where the game was held, but in a different place on the northeast side of McKellips and Scottsdale Roads. It seemed I was supposed to be there anyway. They were filming a kind of postscript follow-up to the show, and the host was going to have a short interview with me. I'm not sure I actually knew about that part before I got there, but they were expecting me. I think they had already done some of the other contestants.

The room was relatively small, living room size, and the host was sitting on a tall stool in the middle of it, with a cameraman or two around him. When I mentioned my glasses, he sent some people to check to see if someone had found them, and to look for them if they hadn't been.

When he was done with the interview, he referred me to a woman standing on the other side of a counter back toward the door. I went to her and she sent someone off to look. I guess they were basically asking around or maybe going through a lost and found section. The person came back then, and I think they might have found the glasses and given them to me but they needed to be fixed, I think something was wrong with an earpiece, or maybe something other than the glasses needed to be fixed. Could it have been my watch? My billfold? Maybe two things? Whatever it was, it had to be dropped off at a place near McKellips and then I had to go back to get it, and I think something else at a nearby place.


Somewhere in there, maybe earlier, I was going through a big department store at the northeast corner of McKellips and Scottsdale Roads, through door after door, starting from the east side. I eventually got to a big center section with rows of seats and some vending machines, where I couldn't find a door that went forward.

At the southwest corner of the room was a window opening with a woman behind a small counter, apparently both selling tickets and acting as a monitor to keep people out. Apparently the section where she was also opened as a door.

On the north side the room opened up into a big viewing section, like for movies or theater, with lots of more rows of seats, some of them in elevated roundish platforms, vaguely lima bean shaped, suspended above the floor at different heights. The seats were pointed toward the north, and the floor in that section had a gradual downward slant. I think the rows of seats in the room itself might have pointed in a different direction, maybe toward the west.

None of the doors I could find led forward, or if they did were blocked to me in some way. Sometimes when I opened one it was filled in on the other side with wood, other times access was restricted and I was either forbidden or the door had a lock, possibly a combination one, and though I saw other people able to go through it, I couldn't. I had to go back through the door I came through and go around. I finally got to the front. I think maybe that's where I met the TV people again for the interview and where I asked about my glasses.

Wordzzle 80 - The alligator people

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 24, for Wordzzle week 80.


Ten Word Challenge:

Charitable,
alligator,
tribute,
drunk,
slave,
preparation,
carrots,
mountainside,
propeller,
lark

He looked at his meal of alligator and carrots, and wondered again about the recipe. He normally wasn't a slave to such things, or for cooking in general, but he had felt a special affinity for this cookbook. It was a tribute to his will that he had gotten this far, though. He lived on a mountainside, and had gone through a great deal of trouble to get the alligator. That part about killing it with a propeller had been the most awkward, and the hardest. He didn't understand it at all, but it was what the recipe called for.

It had to have its mouth propped open and a lark in it, too. Feathers and all. He hoped it was just a decoration. He supposed he should have gotten the lark first. He had had to buy a large freezer to store the alligator in until he could get the lark. Then he had to dig a huge pit to cook the alligator in.

He had never been able to find a place that sold dead larks, so he had to buy a live one, then kill it himself. He hated to do that. It was harder in a way than killing the alligator. He finally drove out to a chicken farm and paid one of the workers to do it. He had boiled the lark, then, as called for in the recipe, trying not to damage the feathers too much.

He found in the end that he had eaten most of the carrots, waiting for the rest of the meal to be done, and had to go buy more. He was getting a little drunk, too, taking increasing sips of the wine that was supposed to go with it, as the project just kept getting longer and longer.

It was finally done, though. The alligator was laid out on the long table, specially purchased for this occasion, with the lark in its mouth and the carrots around it. To say that it had taken an awful lot of preparation was being charitable, but at least it was done. All done. Finally. Or was it?

He checked in the cookbook again to be sure. Hmmm. It said continued on the next page. He turned the page and read: "For those who have gotten this far, and completed everything according to the directions, congratulations! Dig in. For those who have simply read this far without doing anything, relax. It was just a joke. The real recipe is below..."


Mini Challenge:

chisel,
worship,
suicide,
organic,
plus

The chisel slowly committed suicide as he beat on it, trying to carve the stone. He finally had to stop again and grind a new edge on it. He had gotten a whole box of them very cheaply, from a man who was selling them from his trunk. Too bad the steel was so soft, but he guessed they had to cut corners somewhere for a price like that.

He had gotten some surprisingly inexpensive organic food from the man, too, a bunch of cans and microwave dinners. Too bad it turned out to have a lot of organic bugs in it, plus the occasional twig, but the price made it worth it. Art sales were slow now, and he really had to keep costs down.

Well, it looked like the chisel was sharp enough now. Time to get back to work. He paused and stared at the mostly completed statue with something akin to worship. This was going to be one of his better ones. He hadn't been able to afford a model, but things were turning out nicely anyway.

He was about to start again when he heard a groan. He quickly stepped forward and bopped the man again with the hammer, then carefully propped him back in position. Then he returned to the statue, and began to work again.


Mega challenge:

Charitable,
alligator,
tribute,
drunk,
slave,
preparation,
carrots,
mountainside,
propeller,
lark

chisel,
worship,
suicide,
organic,
plus

The excavation of the site of the alligator cult had been going on for years before they found the well with the fire pit at the bottom. It was covered with a heavy layer of decaying organic matter, and under that dirt. At the bottom of the pit they found a layer of ash several feet thick, mixed with human bones, the remains of the sacrifices.

An argument went on as to whether they were forced to jump into the fire, perhaps even being pushed, maybe even bound and thrown in, and whether they had been slaves, perhaps captured in a war, or, in a slightly more charitable interpretation, whether they had gone willingly, committing suicide. A large number of wine vessels were in the area, and perhaps they had fortified themselves with that, maybe even being thoroughly drunk. No one remained who knew of the cult, so it was hard to tell for sure what went on in it.

It was a difficult place to get to, high on a mountainside, and no one had even known it existed until ten years ago. It was not some place one went to on a lark, and it had been found purely by accident. A survey was being done back then of the plants in the area, and one of the people had tripped over a paving stone. Archeologists had eventually been brought out, but they didn't immediately realize the immensity of the find. Too much was hidden by the jungle. Even now, they just knew the outlines of it.

The discovery of the alligator statues and then the fire pit had been great finds, and had really stimulated interest in the area. They had also eventually found tunnels leading down to the fire pit, at the bottom of the well. They were probably for tending the fire and bringing in air to it, as well as cleaning it out afterwards. The cult-people had apparently been a little behind in their cleaning, which was good for the archeologists.

Whatever other rites and tributes might have occurred in the worship of the gods was largely unknown, though carrots were featured prominently in the stone carvings in the area, plus a few instances of a strange propeller-like design. Perhaps the ceremonies had something to do with the harvest, bloodthirsty alligator gods that had to be appeased for everything to turn out right.

A lot of research was being done now in preparation for a book on it, and eventually a TV special. A whole team of people were out there, not only archeologists but photographers and cameramen.

The head archeologist, who was also the writer of the upcoming book and an executive producer of the TV special, was sweeping away the dirt over a nearby stone walk, when he found that an inscription had been chiseled into it. The language was close enough to an ancient language that he knew that he could read most of it.

It said that the place was used for funerals, and cremations, and that the alligator statues were there because of memories of a time when the people used to live in a different area, near the ocean. The people actually worshipped carrots, instead. The propeller-like design was simply a representation of the odd furrows they used for the ceremonial plantings.

This was going to be a much less interesting book, and TV special. He looked around. No one had seen him. He quickly swept some dirt back over it. He would put something heavier over it later, maybe some of the paving stones. Maybe he would reveal it in another ten years, after he had gotten all the money he could out of the first story. Or maybe he would leave it to be found by later generations. Who knows, he might be able to work out some movie deals for a fictional adventurer/archeologist finding some of the alligator-cult people still living hidden in the forest, and the money might never end.

The truth was only what people thought it was anyway, at any given moment, and for many moments to come this truth would be only his.

My Word Imperfect entries, Part III

In June of 2007, I came across a blog called Word Imperfect, which is run by a person known as the Word Imp. At that time, the blog was normally updated every day, but for quite a while now new posts have been rare, due to the blog owner being busy with other things.

Originally, each day the Word Imp put up a new word and a made-up definition, and readers submitted comments with their own made-up, "wacky" definitions of that word. The next day, the Word Imp revealed the real definition and chose three finalists from the entries submitted. Readers voted (in a poll) for what they thought was the best one, and the next day the Word Imp announced the winner. The only prize was the glory of being chosen.

This is the third group of my Word Imperfect entries. The times given are the approximate times of my posts, in Arizona time(MST), from the clock on my computer.


Jargonelle:

12:47 PM 7/3/2007

A jargonelle is a machine used in the food industry to fill and seal jars.


Musette:

2:34 PM 7/3/2007

A musette is a short musical composition, frequently less than a minute long and seldom over two. Popular during the 17th and 18th centuries, it appears today primarily in plays, movies, and advertisements.


Tintinnabulate:

I missed adding a definition.


Lentitude:

9:57 PM 7/5/2007

Lentitude is a combination of length and attitude, and refers to the smug, superior attitude sometimes adopted by people driving cars with extremely long hoods. Lentitude is found less often today than in the past, and has been partially replaced with tankitude, the attitude of some people driving SUV's.


Rotifer:

10:20 AM 7/6/2007

A rotifer was originally a person who was employed at or frequently attended the Rotifington Theatre in London, a place once known for its bizarre and humorous plays. Eventually the term came to be applied to any person who liked that type of humor, or even to any practical joker.

Example: "Well, the kitchen sink is full of frogs again, I wish I could find the rotifer who keeps doing this."


I don't know whether my definition of rotifer was a finalist or not.


Timocracy:

4:37 AM 7/8/2007

Timocracy is the complete takeover of an ecosystem by any one species of plant or animal. The name is a combination of the first letters of "Tyranny In Major" (TIM) and cracy (meaning rule by).


Mutograph:

11:57 PM 7/9/2007

A mutograph is any graph in which the middle and higher values are suppressed in favor of the lower values, making whatever is shown to appear to be less than it is. An example of this would be using only the lower cost projections in figuring future expenses for a project, thus making the project appear less costly.


Vambrace:

12:36 PM 7/10/2007

A vambrace is a device to firmly hold the mouth of a vampire open while dental work is being performed. Like other people, vampires do sometimes need dental work, although they would prefer that this not be known. Unlike other people (well, most other people), vampires cannot resist the temptation to bite the dentist's fingers, and so the vambrace is absolutely required.


I don't know whether my definition of vambrace was a finalist or not.


Couvade:

I missed adding a definition.


Muniment:

4:03 AM 7/12/2007

A muniment is when a person forgets what he or she had been talking about, and unable to regain the memory, finally begins talking again about some other, often unrelated, subject. Muniment takes its name from Mrs. Muni, a teacher who sometimes became lost in thought during her lectures, and when she again came to realize where she was she usually could not remember what it was she had been talking about. She always plunged ahead gamely, though, often sending the lecture into new and unexpected directions. Her students invented the term "Mrs. Muni moment" for this, eventually shortening it to "muniment". In time, muniment came to be applied to any similar moment of confusion suffered by anyone.


I don't know whether my definition of muniment was a finalist or not.


Cloop

7:13 PM 7/15/2007

A cloop is a collection of chicken coops. You might wonder why people would want to collect chicken coops, but that just means you're not a chicken farmer.


I don't know whether my definition of cloop was a finalist or not.


Velleity:

I missed adding a definition.


Teknonymy:

7:57 PM 7/17/2007

Teknonymy is the use of technology for evil purposes. The technology itself may or may not be evil. In the Star Wars movies, for example, light sabers can be wielded by both the forces of good and the forces of darkness.

Dream - Gangsters, and a red blotch in the air

On Sunday morning, March 29, 2009, I had a dream involving gangsters, and later a strange red blotch in the air.

The earlier part of the dream is forgotten, but at some point I incurred the wrath of gangsters. I was in the back lot behind a business, perhaps the radiator shop. Most of the lot was dirt, but I was on a concrete portion. One or two of the gangsters left, leaving one behind with a gun pointed at me.

I was told to get in my car, which was parked at an angle on the concrete, with the front pointed to the southwest, partly toward the alley. The car was an old Cadillac, I think. It was a little small for a Cadillac, and was probably built after they started downsizing them. It was not a car I ever owned in real life.

Before I got in, I had to put the driver's side front inner fender back on the car. I had removed it or loosened it earlier for theft protection. It was falling down now as I tried to get it secured, including some black plastic panels and pieces along part of the front.

I was somewhat bemused, but the gangster person was a little impatient. I think someone dangerous was on the way and he wanted me gone before he got here. He sent someone into the shop to get the keys, a shop employee, I think. A couple of them came back out, looking uncertain and a little scared, holding a bunch of keys on a ring. Someone was going to start the car, then, but looking through the keys found ones that looked like Chrysler ones. The person was going to try them anyway.

I was in the back seat of the car, having been told to get in, then suddenly I was holding the keys, startled. The other person was going swiftly out the passenger door, leaving the place by a different car I guess. I was still in back, but was going to drive in that position anyway. I reached forward and put the key in the ignition. It seemed to go in anyway, despite being apparently the wrong key. I seemed not to be myself now, and was someone younger and smaller instead.

I drove to a counter somewhere, somehow drifting to the driver's seat along the way. I seemed to be a different person, with a different history, though I felt much like myself. Still in the car, I talked to someone behind the counter, and then the car faded away and I was standing there, still talking to the person. The person warned in a mild way that when such things are done they don't forget, talking about the gangsters. I'm not sure what things the person was referring to, though I seemed to have an inkling in the dream.

I went through some large rooms, then, and came to a smaller one off to the side. The room was still of reasonable size, perhaps twelve by eight feet, but was small in comparison to the others. Some other people were in the room, also.

While in the room, at some point, I saw a red area in the air against the light gray of the walls, hanging in the air like a vision. It was perhaps a couple of feet or so wide and twelve or fifteen inches high, and was about five feet above the floor and a similar distance from me, and a little to my right. I worried at first that some problem had happened with my eyes, since it looked something like blood, though a little lighter, some type of crimson. An area thinned out in the middle of it and whirling and turning thin lines formed in various patterns, sometimes like something a toy Spirograph would make, other times more like a turning horizontal wire spring.

It was beautiful and enjoyable to watch, though at the same time I was listening to other people in the room talk, or trying to, which was very distracting. It was a slow conversation and my eyes kept going back to the patterns, looking mostly at them, but it was ending now, slowing down, tending to fade some into indistinctness. I couldn't seem to bring it back, though the red remained, though a little duller and smaller.

I was looking back and forth from the red area to the people. I found I was reluctantly paying more attention to them, and a feeling of greater reality was settling in. I had to leave soon. There was a doorway to my right that sunlight was pouring through, a doorway that led out into the day, and I started to turn toward it and woke up.

Dream - The mobster restaurant and the Cadillac

On Friday morning, May 22, 2009, I had a dream where I drove my 1970 Cadillac down an alley and eventually came to a mob restaurant, a place where there had been some trouble in the recent past.

In the earliest part of the dream that I can remember, I was with some other people. We were outside and one of them was giving a talk on something. There were maybe six people or so, including me. We were behind some business, maybe near the radiator shop, maybe slightly south of it. It seemed to be sometime during the day.

Then the leader wanted to show us something. I didn't really like the idea, but went with them anyway. I had the 1970 Cadillac, and apparently some of them went with me in it. The remaining ones, if any, either walked or took another car. We went south past several businesses, going along near the alley. We stopped some place that sometimes seemed to be still in Scottsdale, perhaps somewhere between McDowell Rd. and Oak St., though sometimes it seemed to be around University Dr. in Tempe.

The alley had changed to a broad sandy area. The sand was deep and rose slightly as it headed away from the alley area. At the other side, on the west, was a long block wall. Perhaps homes were on the other side, but I'm not sure. It was evening now.

We got out of the car and I went to get something out of the trunk, or perhaps put something in it, I'm not sure. This was just a temporary stop before continuing on, a break for refreshments. For some reason I took off my shoes. I then walked over toward the block wall. It had some trash cans in various places along it. There were two or three of them where we were, and some dark things were piled by them. The leader continued talking.

I walked in the deep sand by the trash cans, looking at things. Something had run out of something there, making dark, dirty green pools, like old thick antifreeze, and I walked in it before I realized it was there. I was just wearing socks, and quickly walked in the sand afterwards trying to clean some of it off. The sand soaked some of it up, but there was still quite a bit left, and I didn't want to put my shoes back on while my socks, especially one of them, had a big soaked area with whatever the chemical was, plus the sand caked on it.

We went away from the alley and toward the road that ran parallel to it, toward where a restaurant was. Between the restaurant and the broad sandy area was a concrete wall that began about where we were, and between it and the sandy area may have been a long trash bin, then between the concrete wall and the business was a long parking area that was partially paved with old thin sandy asphalt.

The restaurant was kind of a fast food place, with ice cream. It appeared to be owned by some short Italian people with mob connections. Toward the front, it had a fairly large area to eat inside. It had some hamburgers that looked good, but I didn't have much money with me and decided to just get a blocky rectangular ice cream bar, chocolate covered with a few colored sprinkles. I also asked for some water, and they gave me a big paper cup of it with a little bit of ice in it.

The eating place was divided for some reason, like for smoking and non-smoking, but I'm not sure that was the reason. The other area seemed more for people who ate more expensive dinners and/or for more favored patrons, and was fairly full. It seemed to occupy most of the restaurant, leaving a relatively small area along the side and some toward the cashier.

I walked about two thirds of the length of the restaurant, going away from the cashier and toward the road, and sat down at a table, facing away from the road, with the area for favored patrons to my left. I ate my ice cream bar and looked at the menu, back at the counter where the cashier was, and watched the people around me.

I wasn't sure if I should be this close to the other section, or even near it at all. I could see some of the people there looking at me. One or two of the people I was with were nearby, but the others went somewhere, out to the back I think, probably looking for a restroom. There was a bit of tenseness. I was told by someone about some kind of mob trouble that had happened recently. I worried some that we might be associated with it in the minds of the people there. We were strangers and seemed to be looked at by some of the people with suspicion.

I finally left, and as I was going out the door in the side, near where people ordered the food, I met one of the owners, a short skinny guy, who was coming in. He looked up at me solemnly and slightly irritated, though his expression became more neutral. I think someone told him that we didn't have anything to do with the earlier trouble.

I went out toward the broad sandy area. I was worried about leaving my car out there for so long. I hadn't intended for it to be this long, I thought it was just going to be a quick stop.

I discovered that someone had covered the car in a coating of an oily substance and then set it on fire. I was afraid it had been destroyed. It seemed it had burned off quickly, though. The outside of the car was kind of sooty and still a little oily. Evidently it had been done when they still thought we might be some kind of enemy, or have some kind of connections to one, or maybe they just didn't like it parked there. The police were there and a big flatbed tow truck, ready to take my car away, apparently to the junkyard. The interior seemed to be okay and it would probably still work alright, but I accepted that they were going to take it. I hoped that I could get it back later.

I went back north, on foot. It changed to daylight again as I went. I began to glide in the air in short bits, going from object to object, going along down the alley.

As I got close to Thomas Rd., I met up with the others. We crossed Thomas and went to an area a ways on the other side. There were rows of long pale buildings containing businesses and shops, with old broken concrete parking lots, with some areas dirt and some areas asphalt.

The leader took us to a small doctor's office in the middle of one of the buildings at the northern edge of the area, talking about how we should stop in quick and get some particular thing checked, that it was a good idea to have it done. He seemed to be using it as a teaching exercise, showing us that this particular test, or it might have even been a couple of them, was something that was important to be done, and something important to have done after exercising, as we had been doing walking around.

The waiting area was very small. A few people sat in it, waiting. At least one looked up at us. There was a short, slightly curved line of people that led to a door and through it. Apparently the doctor was somewhere on the other side. We got in the line. A few other people were ahead of us, but I didn't know how far the line extended on the other side. Presumably the tests were something that could be done quickly. This was just a brief stop and then the leader was going to continue on, showing us things.

He kept happily talking while we waited in line, but I became increasing disturbed. I hadn't intended to see a doctor. We had been out all this time, and I was kind of sweaty and had been wearing the same clothes for a while, and didn't really feel presentable. I finally asked if we were really going to see the doctor. The leader happily said that we were. I said that I didn't want to and started to leave. The leader looked disappointed, and said "Awwww" and tried to talk me out of it. One or two of the others also briefly tried to, but I left anyway.

I went back to an earlier row of the buildings and stopped in a little shop of some kind, run by an older woman, then went toward Scottsdale Rd. I started flying and gliding from object to object, heading south. Sometimes I got fairly high. Some of the people along the way looked at me funny. I got across Thomas Rd., sailing high above the pavement. It was late afternoon, and the light was somewhat dim. It was cloudy, sometimes raining.

I eventually made it to the edge of the neighborhood where I lived. I met my mother there. She had walked out there, to one of the neighborhood streets, and was near Scottsdale Rd. She was having some kind of trouble with her health, and the medication or the device she had been given had not been working right. She was having some kind of odd breathing problem, and was taking long, not very forceful breaths, almost constantly. Someone from a nearby business had noticed her problem and had helped her with it. I think maybe two or three people had come to help, maybe from more than one place. A doctor or ambulance had apparently been called, but nothing had shown up, and it had been going on for hours.

I took her back home, which seemed to be the place we normally lived, though the appearance was quite a bit different, and the house was quite a bit bigger in the north-south direction. I finally got the device or medication to work better, I figured it out somehow, though it was just temporary and her doctor still had to look at it, if for no other reason than to confirm that it was doing all it could.

Wordzzle 79 - Shadows and smoke

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 23, for Wordzzle week 79.


Ten Word Challenge:

Spam,
perpetual motion,
sprinkle,
telephone pole,
stains,
alphabetical,
surgery,
flattery,
liberty,
preservation

I performed careful surgery on the Spam, cutting it in very thin, narrow slices, each one as identical as I could make it. I worked steadily, like a perpetual motion machine. When I had it finished I opened another can and began slicing that, and then another and another. Finally, I had done six cans. That should be enough. The thin slices were piled high on the cheap paper plate, the grease seeping out into it, making a widening stain. I would have to carry the plate with both hands under it, and then it would be iffy. I carefully carried it outside, and put it by the fire pit. I looked up and studied the sky, then looked in all directions. The line of telephone poles was still there, as before. It was not like the old days. I had never known the old days, but I could still say that.

I built up the fire, and when it was burning nicely, I took a slice of Spam and sprinkled it with powder that I had made according to the old ways, then tossed it into the fire. A puff of smoke exploded from the fire and went boiling upward, assuming strange shapes. I took another slice and did the same, and then another, watching the strange shapes the smoke assumed, in a language that was symbolic instead of alphabetical. I saw images of liberty and of proudness, of standing firm, and of preservation of the old ways. I threw in more slices and more powder. It spoke in flattery now. Perhaps I had used too much powder. Some flattery is good, only a little. I threw in some more slices and powder, and more and more, watching the visions in the smoke, becoming transfixed by them.

On a hill a few miles away, two workers paused in what they were doing. "Look at all that smoke! What's that crazy old man doing now?"

The other man studied it for a moment, then turned away. "Forget it, it's just more Spam."


Mini Challenge:

shadows,
singularity,
Florida,
caterpillars,
copy

The shadows slowly swirled against the darkness of the sky, black on black, blacker than black, looking like a caterpillar slowly rotating around a central point. I felt like I was looking into the naked singularity at the heart of a black hole, but of course such things can't actually be seen, light ends at the event horizon.

It came closer, seeming to spread out in the sky while at the same time reaching toward me. Eventually I became enveloped in its blackness. All was black for a time, if it could actually be called black when nothing exists to compare it to.

I became aware, then, that I was standing on something, and the dim shapes of walls were beginning to appear. It never got very bright, though, and I could barely see.

I was in a small room, possibly gray, though it may have looked different fully lit. It didn't seem to have any furniture. A few feet in front of me was a doorway, leading to a narrow hallway, across which I could see the doorway of another room, and through the doorway another doorway beyond that, and one beyond that. I turned around and looked at the other side of the room and found it also had another doorway, and doorways beyond that. I turned back and faced the direction I had originally been facing. It seemed important somehow. Time seemed to pass, but I had no frame of reference for it. It could have been a long time, or it could have been fairly short.

Eventually I saw, in the dimness, two figures approaching, coming through the series of doorways. They moved slowly and solemnly, or so it seemed, though I had no way of knowing if they were actually solemn or not. After a while, they stood before me. One was about my height, which is tall, and the other was several inches taller. They wore dark robes with hoods, and their faces were hidden in shadow. I still could not see who they were. One of them spoke then, I'm not sure which. "Why did you come?"

I stared at them, not understanding for a moment, then finally said, "I did not come. Something like a shadow came out of the sky and put me here."

"That is incorrect. You summoned it."

"I didn't summon it. I have no idea how to do that, and I don't even know what it is."

"And yet, you are here."

"I am here."

There was a pause as the shadowed figures stood there, facing me, apparently watching me. After a time, one of them said, "We are waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for you to tell us why we were summoned."

This didn't seem to be getting anywhere. "Could you at least tell me where we are?"

"We are here and you are there."

"Where is there?"

An image of the earth appeared, floating in the darkness.

"We're on earth?"

"No. You are."

"But where are you, then?" This was getting confusing.

"We are on the ship. You are not. What seems to be your body is just a pale copy of it, barely physical, to be used while your attention is here. It will fade away when your attention departs."

"It seems real."

"They always do, to those that are in them."

"Why am I here, though?"

"We are waiting for you to tell us."

"But I don't know why I'm here! I've never been here before! I don't know anything about it."

"You have been here many times. You were here before you were there."

"I don't remember any of it."

There was another pause, possibly long, but I didn't really know. I was getting afraid that we were going to be locked here forever in a circular discussion when one of them spoke. "If you do not remember, then it may not be time after all. But then, why did you summon us?"

"I didn't summon you! I didn't do anything! You came to me!"

"We obviously did not. We are here and you are there."

"This is getting nowhere! Look, couldn't you just take me home?"

"Your attention is already home. Do you wish your body to be home as well?"

I stared at him blankly, then finally said, "This ship or whatever it is is not my home. My home is on earth."

"Your home is not on earth."

"It is too! It's on earth in a place called Florida!"

Something seemed to shift. Something in reality itself. The surroundings became blurred, then fell into focus again, more clear than before.

"You have said Florida, the word that was agreed upon. The signal. The plan will be executed. Has been executed." They turned away and started to go.

"Wait! What about me?"

They turned partly back around, hooded heads pointed at me. "It is not necessary for you to come with us."

"No! I want to go to, to earth, back to where I was."

"The plan has been executed. You are no longer there."

"I know I'm not there! I'm here!"

"Only your attention is on the ship. Your body is on earth, but not where it was."

"Why? What happened to it?"

"The plan was executed."

"But what does that mean?"

"Your body was moved to a place of safety, most likely to a specially fortified room, perhaps underground. We do not know where."

"But why would it need to be moved to a safe place?"

"Because the plan was executed."

"But what was the plan!"

"The timeline was adjusted. Earth now had an atomic war in 1983, caused by malfunctioning Russian equipment. Most of the northern hemisphere is destroyed, with large areas still radioactive. Without support from the north, the southern hemisphere is in chaos, with mass starvation, made worse by refugees streaming in from the north. A third of the population was killed in the war, and the population is still dropping rapidly. We expect it to stabilize at around 100 million."

I couldn't think of anything to say for a minute. Could it be real? "Why? Why was it done?"

"It was the plan chosen by you. You must look within yourself for the reason."

"But, but, I didn't..." Something hit me then. "You mean there are other plans?"

"There are many plans, but none of them can be executed without invalidating the current plan."

"That's okay! I'm don't want the current plan! Get rid of it!"

"What plan would you like instead?"

"I don't know! I don't have a name! I don't know any of their names!"

"We must have a name. We cannot proceed without it."

"I don't have one! Isn't there anything you can do? I feel like I'm talking to a robot! Can't you please just undo what was done? Just dump it?"

"Very well. We will execute plan Dum-Pit, as requested."

"What? Wait, I don't know what that plan is..." They were fading into blackness. "What's happening?"

"Your attention is returning to there," I heard faintly out of the darkness, almost a fading memory of words.

I opened my eyes and saw a swirling blackness in the sky, rapidly receding. I looked around. I was on a hillside somewhere, with a large city below, several miles away. I wasn't where I was before, but everything else felt normal. Even more normal, somehow, than it had before I left. It felt like it was for the better, though I didn't know what had changed and wouldn't know for some time.

I paused. Why did I think that? I couldn't be sure now. Oh well, plenty of time to think about it later.

I made my way down the hill toward the city.


Mega challenge:

Spam,
perpetual motion,
sprinkle,
telephone pole,
stains,
alphabetical,
surgery,
flattery,
liberty,
preservation

shadows,
singularity,
Florida,
caterpillars,
copy

I took another bite of the Spam sandwich, and watched the shadows lengthen. This was taking a lot longer than expected. I had already been here a week. Spam was good once in a while, but I was getting real tired of it. The cans were handy to take on trips, but once opened they were no longer in a state of preservation, and had to be eaten fairly quickly. I had already gained ten pounds, or at least it felt like it. I would have gained more, but I found myself eating less often. Which might not be a bad thing, as the food wouldn't last forever. I would be out of the bread soon, and then I would have to start on the crackers. I would be out of the real Spam tomorrow, and then I would start on the store-brand copy. I doubted it would taste any better.

I took another bite. In desperation, I opened one of the small boxes of raisins and opened up the sandwich and sprinkled some on the meat. I closed up the sandwich and took another bite. It did seem to be better. At least it changed the taste. I finished the sandwich and wiped my hands on my already stained shirt.

I looked up. The buzzards were still circling, seemingly in perpetual motion. There was a time when I had tried to name them alphabetically, like hurricanes, but I couldn't tell them apart, and it no longer seemed important.

I had been on vacation, hiking, when a pack of wolves had started following me, then chasing me. I was running across a meadow, heading for the lone tree in it. It went straight up, like a telephone pole, with the first real branches about twelve feet above the ground. I don't know how I climbed it, but I did.

The wolves left after a few days, but I found I couldn't get down. I had gone pretty high to find some good, comfortable branches, and to be well away from the wolves, but I found I couldn't climb down much without getting stumped. I had tried several times, but I just couldn't do it. Below a certain point, I couldn't find any proper place to put my feet, and there was little to hang onto. If I fell, I would probably need major surgery, assuming I didn't die right away. I wasn't going to get any surgery out here, though. Just the buzzards, unless the wolves came back and fought them off.

I had tried my cell phone over and over, but there was never any signal. I was trapped here on the tree, in the middle of the meadow. It felt like I was on the singularity in the center of a black hole, a place from which nothing can escape.

I had packed a lot of supplies, but the food would be gone in a few days. I didn't know what I'd do then. Lose the ten pounds, probably. That and a lot more.

I had run out of water long ago, and would be in big trouble now if it hadn't been raining so much. I used a small frying pan and a cup to catch the rain, and then refill the water bottles. The rain probably wasn't too clean, coming down off the leaves like it was, and sometimes it included a few caterpillars, which I fished out. I was starting to think I should have stayed in Florida.

It was getting late, and soon I would have to tie myself to the tree again, to make sure I didn't fall off while I slept. I didn't have any rope, but I had managed to use the straps from the backpack instead. I used one strap to secure the backpack to the tree, and then put the other one around my waist. It was uncomfortable when I ended up hanging from it, but it beat the alternative.

I watched the caterpillars crawl along the leaves and branches for a while. I wasn't ready to eat them yet, but there might come a time.

I looked up. The buzzards were still there. I had yelled at them, trying to scare them away, but it didn't work. Flattery didn't either. I had even asked them what it would take to get them to leave, but none of them seemed at liberty to say. One of them landed, now, on a branch a few feet above me. I wondered how it would taste with raisins.

Yet more posts about posts

In 2007 and 2008, I posted collections of posts I made to a message board I visit frequently. This is the fourth collection of these posts.

On that message board, new threads crowd out old ones, old in this case meaning oldest last update. Threads can persist for a long time, however, if they are posted to frequently enough so that they stay comfortably away from the bottom of the list.

I help to keep some of the threads going, by posting to them when it seems that a new post might be needed. On threads about writing or poems, I have sometimes posted poems. Most of these poems refer to posts or posting in some manner, and most of them are short, sometimes very short, though a few are fairly long.

As originally posted they did not have titles, but I have given them titles here. The times shown are in Arizona time (MST), not the time on the message board, which uses Eastern time.


PLACE YOUR POEM
2:33 PM 3/25/2007

Place your poem
Within this place
So this thread
Won't be erased



POST YOUR POEMS
3:15 PM 5/15/2007

Post your poems
So that we may know 'ems



GIVE ME SOME WORDS
1:30 PM 9/6/2007

Give me some words
Sane or absurds
Short or long
Story or song
Prose or rhyme
Now's the time



A POST TO FILL
3:15 AM 9/22/2007

I write this down,
A post to fill,
So this thread
Won't be nil.



NOW'S THE TIME
3:35 AM 12/4/2007

Now's the time
To make a post
Whether it be
Least or most



A LITTLE NUDGE
3:36 PM 2/20/2008

There are days
When posts come fast
But those days
Don't seem to last

And so I give
A little nudge
To this thread
To make it budge

Other posts
Are welcome, too
Perhaps a post
will come from you

Make a post
If you can
And give this thread
A helping hand

Dream - The new timeline and the psychic lecturer

Tuesday, April 21, 2009, in the middle of the night or early morning, I had a strange dream about getting killed and then the timeline changing so that I was alive again.

In the dream, I was driving in Nevada. I had traveled there from Arizona. Earlier in the dream, there had been some time at home, and something about packing the suitcases, in my bedroom I think, and talking about the trip. In this trip, I went far to the north of where I usually go. This was intentional, and I had a specific place I was going to. I think it was something I had talked about with my father, some place he had business dealings. It was a little town in a relatively high area, probably 4000-5000 feet or more, with mountains around it. I had gotten in the general area, but still quite a ways from it.

It was late at night, approaching morning I think, and I was very tired and it was hard to drive. I was going along in an area where the road had been cut out from some little mountains, going fairly straight, with broad areas of loose dirt on each side for shoulders. There were places beyond the shoulder where the cutout area of the mountains could be seen, a sloping wall of hard dirt, and also some places between them where the dirt had been used to fill in gaps to make the shoulder. I was going west now, and had just turned off onto the road a little ways back. I had been going north. I was driving slower here, looking for a good place to pull off and sleep for a while. Traffic was very light.

Then I was waking up, sitting in the car, parked in the soft dirt, several feet from the road. It was very early morning, around sun up or maybe just before. I had the strangest feeling, that something had happened that night, and then things had been completely changed. It felt like I had actually been killed, hit by another car going the other way, either when I had been going slower, looking for a place to pull off or after I had pulled off and was slowly going along the shoulder for a ways, deciding where I wanted to stop, and that then it had been redone, and I was moved to a timeline where it didn't happen. I think it was partly done by myself, but a great deal of it, maybe most of it, was done by outside agencies, perhaps angels, though I'm not sure. It could have been UFO-type people, or people who were from alternate timelines or other universes, or even time travelers. It was the strangest feeling. I felt kind of airy and light-headed.

I continued on to where I had been going. I had actually been going, intentionally and temporarily, in the wrong direction earlier, looking for some place to pull off and sleep. It was an area I had been in a few times before, in dreams, so I knew generally what it was like.

Now I turned around and headed east. Traffic had picked up a bit. I think I went to a little town where some small businesses were, garages or service stations, to talk to some people there. I think my father joined up with me. He may have been driving a large white pickup truck.

Someone was visiting there, passing through, giving brief talks. I think it may have been a route he regularly traveled, but months passed before he returned to a particular place. He talked about psychic stuff and the paranormal. (In real life, the radio was playing and the Coast to Coast AM show was on. That night, Bruce Goldberg was a guest. I'm not sure if he was still on when the dream happened. It might have been when the show was replaying the first hour of his time, or the dream might have happened afterward. In any case, the person seems to have been based on him and sounded like him, and was a fast talker.)

I think I had been wanting to see him, and although I was already in the area for something else, I think I particularly went to this place at this time to try and catch up with him. I got to talk to him briefly as he was heading for the door after his talk, and continued to talk to him briefly outside. He seemed interested and agreed that what I thought happened could have happened, and even talked a little about such things, but seemed to be in a hurry and I didn't feel that what had happened to me was really properly sinking in to him. He left then and drove off to the next place in some other little town. I felt I had to try to catch up with him again, either in the next place or somewhere else in his tour.

I went off with my father to the next town he was going to be at, I think after finishing up our business where we were. It was a some place to the east, some distance away apparently. It was late at night when we got there, not far from morning. We parked outside of town and made our way forward on foot. I'm not sure why. I think we may have been worried for some reason about being trapped or caught there, like we felt it wasn't quite safe.

Going west, we made our way along on the south side of the road, going along by some businesses. For a while on this side of the road the area was elevated a bit, rising up maybe ten feet or more in places, with the road cut through it. The places on the other side of the road were more level, though sometimes were also elevated a little.

We came to a place, well above the road, that seemed to be used for storage for things that were delivered. The ceiling was fairly low and it was open all along the front, and we were on a raised up area in it, kind of almost like an open attic or loft. A bunch of little cans were there, most of them tuna cans I think, though a few cans held something else. We were talking about taking some with us to eat, not so much to eat now as when we got finished and left. At times it seemed the other person was more like my younger brother now instead of my father, and at times it seemed like a different person entirely.

It was getting lighter now as we made our way along. We soon crossed the street to the other side, cautiously going along, keeping close to businesses, away from the road, though the businesses went alongside next to the road. Hardly anyone was out now, and the road was practically empty. A lot of the businesses were elevated six to eight feet up, but it varied as we went, going up and down, and some were fairly close to the road in height. I didn't know if we were in time, or would have to catch him in one of the other towns. I was under the impression, though, that somehow this little town was a major base stop on his tour, that he had some kind of connections here.

We did manage to get to the place he was at. He was still there. We talked to some of the people there before we found him. We still had to search a bit. One of the people was a black woman, probably in her thirties, full-figured but not heavy, who was very attractive. She had a kind of easy-going, amused smile, and helped us some in our search. She was one of the people who worked in the place that he had kind of a base at, and I guess one of the places in town where he was going to be talking or had been talking. She didn't go with us, though we kept coming back in our search and running into her. Apparently the person we were looking for was moving around quite a bit and it was hard to catch him.

Finally, toward night, we managed to catch up with him. He was about to go someplace else again, another town on his tour. I got to talk to him for a little while. While we walked, the black woman went with us for a ways, and maybe another person or two, then we said goodbye to them, until next time, and continued on with the person I had been trying to find. As we talked, he remarked after a bit how nice looking the black woman was, in kind of an aside, a smile on his face. It was dark now. We were approaching the end of town again, the same end we had come in on. The person had to go on and we said goodbye to each other.

I went back to the place with the cans, along with the person I had come with, whoever it was now, and we were going through the cans, which were stacked up in a broad area along the edge of the loft, out toward the road. The stacks weren't very high and were just a few cans deep, and were partly turned over and scattered, especially after we had been through them. We were going through them again now. I was trying to collect a few cans of tuna. The other person wanted something else too, and said he really wanted to find some salmon. He was having trouble finding it, though. I said in kind of a loud sharp voice that he was looking at the wrong ones, that they were in these little tiny cans, showing him some that were really small, maybe half-size, like some gourmet cat food cans are.

The cans were just sitting out there, not locked up, and we had been considering just taking a bunch of them, but we started to wonder now whether we should make some effort about paying for them. The black woman had come back, still across the street and still maybe fifty feet away, and still with a big smile. She suggested that we could send the money to her and she would pass it along, so we decided that we would go through what we had gotten later, and either send her the money or send her a letter telling her what we had gotten, and she would tell us how much it was.

Later that morning, probably around 6:00-7:00, I had another dream about driving, in Arizona I think. I don't remember now what was happening in it, but I woke up with the same airy, light-headed feeling, somewhat a feeling of wonder, as I had in the dream after the timeline had been changed.

Wordzzle 78 - The wall

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 22, for Wordzzle week 78.

Ten Word Challenge:

records,
impulsive,
really cool,
bread crumbs,
angels,
Sponge Bob,
magical moment,
back and forth,
suffering,
good fences make good neighbors

I'd like to say it was a magical moment, and really cool, but all the suffering got in the way. I crawled along on my stomach, hugging the line in the road like it was a trail of bread crumbs left by angels. I could see the end, not far away now. It lay like an invisible fence, separating what was here from what was there. I've heard that good fences make good neighbors, but it didn't much matter in this case. I hoped to never be here again.

I tried to gather my strength, to stand, to somehow walk to the end, to go out like a man, but I swayed back and forth and then fell to my knees, and then on my face. Through a haze of pain I saw a little boy wearing a Sponge Bob T-shirt, looking down at me.

"Are you all right, mister?"

I tried to say something, but couldn't. I finally nodded, or I think I did, and began crawling on. Maybe I inspired the kid. I hoped not. Why would I want anyone to end up like this? Oh, what an impulsive thing I had done, that led me to end up here. If I could only take back that moment. But it was too late now. Too late for anything.

The end was close now. I could feel it more than see it, as the light seemed to be fading rapidly.

Then, almost as a surprise, I was somehow crossing it, slowly inching my way forward, a growing roar filling my ears, filling my head. And then it was done. It was over. I hadn't set any records, except maybe for slowest finisher, but the marathon race was done.


Mini Challenge:

side effects are generally mild,
clingy,
rooster,
samples,
curiosity

"'Side effects are generally mild,'" I said, reading from the package of samples the doctor had given me. "'Some people may experience goose bumps and reddening of the skin, and sticky sweat, occasionally heavy.'"

"Goose bumps, huh? You look more like a chicken than a goose. With that red face. more specifically a rooster. Does it say anything about the feathers?"

"No, it doesn't mention feathers. The feathers are from that truck full of chickens that passed us, I'm sure. They're just stuck to me because of my sweat. It makes my skin real clingy."

"Well don't come in the house like that. We'll have to wash you off with the hose."

"With the hose! But I've already got goose bumps!"

"Yeah, but they're meaningless. It's over 100 degrees out here. You'll be lucky if the water from the hose doesn't burn you. Now hold still."

"Ahhh! Ahhh! It burns! My goose bumps are getting worse! I'm sweating more! I'm got feathers in my mouth!"

"Well, spit them out. You don't know where they've been."

"Oh, this is just awful, I can still taste them!"

"Well, you won't be kissing me for a while."

"I'm here suffering, and all you can think about is yourself? Have you no pity?"

"I drove you home, didn't I? Drove you there, too."

"Yes, but you could be a little nicer about it. Especially with the shape I'm in."

"You look in better shape than your clothes. We're going to have a terrible time getting all the feathers off of them."

"They wouldn't be there if you hadn't washed them off my face and neck, and hands. Some of them have gone down my neck. I can feel them inside my clothes. It's awful. I think some things are crawling around on me, too."

"Maybe they were on the feathers. Or it could be all in your head."

"Let me check the box again. It's all wet! My glasses are, too. I can hardly see it. Let me see... It says something about possible mild hallucinations and delusions."

"Uh huh. You should have shown a little more curiosity before you took them."

"Well, they were essentially free, the doctor was giving them out, they were something the drug company gave him. If they worked he said he would write me a prescription for some more."

"You might not want to get that prescription," a strange voice said. "In fact, you might not want to take any more."

I turned and saw a woman on the sidewalk, looking at me funny. She had slowed to almost a stop, but she speeded up now and walked away quickly, sometimes looking back over her shoulder at me.

I looked down at the small poodle holding the hose. "That sure was odd, wasn't it?"

She nodded and hit me again with the water.


Mega challenge:

records,
impulsive,
really cool,
bread crumbs,
angels,
Sponge Bob,
magical moment,
back and forth,
suffering,
good fences make good neighbors

side effects are generally mild,
clingy,
rooster,
samples,
curiosity

"Good fences make good neighbors," the sign said, but there were no fences and no neighbors, just the barren land. I guess that was the point. No fences, therefor no neighbors. If I constructed a fence, would neighbors appear? I didn't know. I walked on. A little later I saw another sign. It said, "If you build it, they will come." It sounded like an answer to my question, though I couldn't be sure. In any case, there wasn't anything around to build anything with, and I didn't have the time to cart building materials out here.

After a while, I came to a solid wall, painted white, ten feet high, that ran from horizon to horizon. This looked like a pretty good fence, one for the record books. I still didn't see any neighbors. Maybe because it wasn't really a fence, just a wall. I guess that made sense.

I saw two doors in it. One said "Fools" and the other said "Angels." I wasn't sure what to expect on the other side, seeing that the other signs hadn't been too helpful.

I knew more about fools than I did about angels, so I finally decided to open the door marked "Fools" first. I didn't know how many might be inside, or how friendly they might be, so I opened the door slowly and carefully. Inside I saw a dilapidated wooden bridge crossing a deep canyon. The bridge was creaking and shifting, and seemed about to collapse. A sign beside it said, "Cross here." I decided I wasn't that big of a fool, so I backed out and went to the other door.

I opened it and saw the same canyon, only without the bridge. A sign said, "Cross here." I didn't have any angel wings with me, so I couldn't cross here, either. I went back out and closed the door, unsure what to do now.

Then I noticed that the signs on the doors had changed. The signs now said "Really cool" and "Impulsive." I opened the "Really cool" door and found a bridge of ice going across the canyon. It looked pretty slippery, so I closed the door and went to the other one.

When I opened it, I saw a path leading to a bridge, with giant toad statues lining and facing the path. I stared at the scene for a while. The bridge appeared to be sturdy, but something didn't feel right. I started to turn back, but then on impulse I started down the path. The toads jumped toward each other, slamming into each other with loud smacking sounds. I was almost hit, but leaped out of the way just in time. I could see now that they weren't statues at all, they had just seemed that way because of their size and stillness. They were now erratically jumping in all directions, seemingly on impulse. I couldn't tell which way any of them would jump, and some of them almost hit me again. I finally managed to get out and close the door.

I saw then that the signs on the doors had again changed. One said "Clingy" and the other said "Curiosity." I opened the "Clingy" door and saw the canyon again, with no bridge. A giant frog wearing a saddle crawled up over the edge, using its sticky feet to cling to the rock. It looked at me and its tongue shot out, hitting the wall five feet from me, then shot back into its mouth, holding some small animal. I backed out and shut the door.

I opened the other one and saw a long concrete pipe, about four feet wide, forming a tunnel over the canyon. The ground around it was littered with the bones of small animals. Over the end of the tunnel was a grate of heavy steel. On a pole beside it was a plaque with a large red button. I went over and read the plaque. It said "Push this." I peered into the tunnel, but couldn't see the other end. Something seemed to be blocking the way. I finally pushed the button, not knowing what else to do, and curious about what might happen. The grate started to lift, clearing the way into the tunnel, and from inside the tunnel I heard a rapid scurrying, coming this way. I ran for the door, got through it and slammed it closed, as I felt something heavy smack into the other side.

I spent quite a bit of time at the doors, going back and forth between them, opening them and going in, but no matter what the signs changed to, I couldn't find a way to get over the canyon. At least not one I felt safe using. Finally, the signs said "Suffering" and "Bread crumbs."

I decided to try the "Bread crumbs" first. When I opened the door, I saw a sturdy bridge heavily carpeted in bread crumbs. The path leading to it was the same way. I started to walk forward, and hordes of birds swooped down and started eating the bread crumbs. They were all around, and smacking against me. I put up my arms, trying to fend them off. With my head down and arms waving, I tried to slowly walk forward, but the birds were everywhere, and I could hardly find a place to put my feet. Eventually I stepped on one, whereupon the others all turned on me and started flying at me and pecking me. I turned and ran back out through the door, slamming it behind me, hearing a rain of thuds on it.

I went to the other door and stood in front of it for a while. "Suffering" did not sound too promising, but the signs wouldn't change until I tried both doors. I finally opened it and saw a sturdy bridge. Nothing unusual seemed to be around. I slowly walked toward it, expecting something to happen at any minute, but nothing did. I slowly and carefully walked across the bridge. I made it to the other side, and still nothing happened. I looked back at the bridge, and everything still looked normal. Where was the suffering? Then I remembered that one of the meanings of suffer was permit. So suffering could mean permitting. Perhaps that was it. At least I hoped so.

I turned away from the bridge and continued my journey. The path led into the hills. I saw no more signs. The way got rougher and steeper, and eventually I was going up the side of a mountain. Then the path led into an opening in the rock, into a cave. I paused outside it for a minute, considering what to do, and finally went in.

Inside was a huge room, dimly lit by widely spaced torches. Directly in front of me, wide steps were cut out of the rock, leading down to a broad flat floor, perhaps ten feet below. Overhead, far above, I could see a distant ceiling, littered with stalactites. The room stretched to vast distances on either side of me. Ahead, perhaps two hundred feet away, were more steps, leading up to another level area, beyond which was the far wall. A little ways in front of the far wall was a giant throne, made of rock. On the throne sat a giant rooster.

I walked down the steps and across the floor, and up the other steps, until I stood in front of the throne and the rooster. This close, I could see that he was enormous, probably seven or eight feet tall when standing.

The rooster looked down at me. "You have completed the tests. You have earned the prize. Now you must choose it."

It swept its left wing up in a majestic gesture, and I saw the wall now had narrow shelves lined with Sponge Bob lunchboxes. It was a magical moment.

I walked up to them. They all looked the same. "Does it matter which one I choose?"

"Yes, it does."

"What will happen if I choose the wrong one?"

"The side effects are generally mild, but the primary effects will gather all your attention."

That sounded pretty bad. I walked up and down in front of them, looking them over. I couldn't tell any difference in any of them. I finally turned to the rooster and said, "I choose the one you would choose."

"A wise decision."

It got up and walked over and picked up one with its beak. Holding it by its handle, it turned and held it out to me. I reached forward somewhat uneasily, suddenly acutely aware of the bird's size. I took the lunch box and held it lovingly in my hands, then opened it. Inside it was, of course, full of golden sponge cakes. I took one out. Another appeared in its place. It held an unending supply. I took a bite. It was delicious, heavenly.

"May I have a sample?"

I started to say yes, but then stopped, a wave of fear going through me. For all I knew, I might look even more tasty than what was in the lunchbox. "A sample of what?" I finally said.

"You have passed the test. I offer you my kingdom and everything in it, if you will accept it."

I thought for a minute. Normally an offer like that would be pretty attractive, but his kingdom seemed pretty forbidding, with its wall or fence that kept out almost everyone. I didn't think I would really like being cooped up in the cave all alone either, perhaps for all eternity, unless I could eventually trick some other person into taking my place. "You're very kind, but I'm afraid I can't accept it. I'll just stick with the lunchbox."

"Very well. The way out is over here," it said, indicating a large white door set into the wall.

I went over and opened it. Light poured out from it, then light was everywhere. I stood there blinking, then saw my wife over by the light switch. I was standing in front of the refrigerator, holding the door open with one hand, and eating something with the other.

"What are you doing? You know you're supposed to be on a diet! And what is the lunchbox doing open on the table?"

"Does it, er, have any sponge cake in it?"

"Not anymore, everything's gone, I'll have to repack it before he goes to school. And you're still eating! Put down that chicken leg."

I stared at it. "Don't worry," I said. "I only, er, took a sample."

The Wombat and the Pudding

This is a story that I did for a message board, on a thread normally concerned with comically constructing new words and definitions. They were at that time doing exercises where a user gave a short list of words and other users then wrote a story containing those words.

This is another of my stories from my post number 1000 for that message board. The list of words for this story: prickly, pudding, marbles, wombat, braids.

This story is dated 9:23 PM, December 1, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


THE WOMBAT AND THE PUDDING

The wombat, missing a few marbles, made braids out of the pudding and put the result on its head. "Blame it on the prickly heat, that's what I say," it exclaimed.

Dream - The auction of the lion-thing

On Sunday morning, April 19, 2009, I had a dream about being at a place where something partly hidden was being auctioned, something that looked something like a lion.

In the dream, I was in a place with long white tables or counters, that occasionally had computers on them. The main area was a very large room, but it had smaller offshoots. I wandered around, sometimes fiddling with the computers. Sometimes a few people were there, and sometimes not. Time passed. My mood was glum.

Then an auction started in the middle of the room, in the rows of white tables or counters. I went forward and looked at what was happening. The thing being bid on was mostly hidden behind a white curtain or sheet, but the curtain was pulled back a bit and a little of the object showed. It seemed to be something at least partly like a lion, very large and probably life-size, with its mane showing, but with a long narrow structure extending upward from the area of the neck. I'm not sure what the lion-thing was made of. It was colored a bright shiny reddish color, tending toward blue in some places, with the color looking like part of the material and almost translucent. It looked like it might be some type of fiberglass or plastic, but a fairly heavy kind. I wondered about its age. It didn't really seem like it could be too ancient if it was made out of that, though I supposed it could date from the early 1900s.

I wondered what the bidding would be, and if it would go fairly cheap. It started out, though, around 600 or 650 dollars I think. Then someone bid 1500, but the auctioneer didn't seem to be acting on it. He was still referring to the earlier bid when asking for a higher one, and someone bid 750, which he accepted and then started trying for more. I was getting really confused. Why wasn't the other bid being recognized? I heard, then, some people referring to it, but they treated it as less than the other bids, that it was somehow something like 150. But the man had said fifteen-hundred, could fifteen hundred be less than seven hundred and fifty? I was getting more and more confused and couldn't make it work.

Finally the curtain was pulled back and the whole thing was revealed. To my surprise it seemed to be some kind of ostrich, and instead of a mane it had the round body with its wings and feathers, and also a pale, faintly violet series of large drooping panels around its neck and over the top of its back, apparently for riders to sit on.


At the time I had the dream, the Wordzzle game for next week involved the term "auction block," and I had been working on the stories. That's probably where the auction concept came from. I didn't have any lions or ostriches in them, though, just polar bears.

Dream - My grandmother is voted president of a club

Sunday, February 1, 2009, I had a dream in which I was traveling with the rest of the family, and then I went to a place where a small election was held.

In the dream, in the first part I can remember, I was in a bathroom, with another, larger, room of some kind attached to the back. It was a white wooden structure with a concrete floor, outside away from things. It had a big dirt area around it with patches of short grass. No other building was close. I was trying to clean the toilet some. I think my father had left me or brought me there. The whole family was traveling, me with them. The rest of the family, and my father, were in another place right now, perhaps at least partly separately, some place in the town.

I went to a place in town, then, apparently where we were going to meet. It was composed mostly of a very large, open room, maybe around a hundred feet on a side, with a long room at the back with rows of people like a smallish movie theater, or like the inside of a large airplane. I think it was an eating place, though it may have sold some things, too. The attached big building was entirely open, with just pillars holding it up. It was white painted stucco, with low walls in various places, including along the edges, and some areas were different levels. It was landscaped inside and out, and had some eating areas inside and out.

We had to vote, then, in a place in the big room. It seemed mostly the people in the place who were voting, though perhaps some others also went in there to vote, too. A woman was taking the votes out of the ballot box and reading them. Other women were gathered around her, watching. The votes were just little pieces of paper, maybe three by five inches.

She was also happily saying something about a code that was used or was now being used. It was three or four letters long, the first part of a much longer word, which she also gave. I don't remember now what they were. I wasn't sure what importance it really had, it just seemed to be a handy word that was associated with their business or business goals in some way, and that they were now using the first part of the word as a code to put on a lot of things and communications, as a kind of reminder.

When she got to my votes, I had put in a few, this was evidently allowed, she looked up and starting kidding about my ballots. Evidently people had their own names on their ballots too, along with the person they had voted for, identifying themselves. She was saying something about how she knew these were mine, that the 3's had fancy curlicues.

I was standing about twenty feet away, and frowned as she was saying this. I didn't know exactly what she was talking about. I didn't remember writing a 3, and could only assume that she was referring to the letter E, my middle initial, which looks something like a backward 3 when written, though I don't make any fancy curlicues on it. I guessed she was trying in some way to kid me about it looking like a backward 3, which didn't make much sense to me since that was what it was supposed to look like.

When all the votes were counted, my grandmother was elected, apparently as president of a club, or something like that. I'm not sure exactly what it was. In real life, she died in late 1984.

Wordzzle 77 - The silent majority

This is my contribution to this week's Wordzzle. Wordzzle is a game in which each week word lists, used to create stories, are given on the blog Views from Raven's Nest. Participating users post their stories on their own blogs.

This is my entry number 21, for Wordzzle week 77.


Ten Word Challenge:

blind panic,
apartment,
fleas,
soap operas,
cajun cooking,
free and easy,
legal,
sangria,
public school,
new

It wasn't a public school, but it was a fenced-in institution. People were put there who had special problems. Very special problems. They were getting a lot of new residents, too. It was not free and easy to get in there, and in many cases not even entirely legal, but many people were put there by concerned family members, moved out of their house and apartments, sometimes with little or no warning.

It wasn't the usual problems or phobias, not fear of dirt or germs or fleas or even Cajun cooking or sangria. Still the people arrived, often in a blind panic. They were difficult cases, too, and some who came never left. Sometimes when a person's favorite soap opera went off the air, there just wasn't much you could do.


Mini Challenge:

class,
calendar,
keeping secrets,
boring,
fashion

I checked the calendar again, but it had no appointments for me. No classes either. I looked at the next week and the next month, and finally at the whole year, but nothing was there anywhere. Unless the calendar was keeping secrets from me (and they sometimes do, boy have I been surprised) it looked like it was going to be one boring year.

I finally started looking at the pictures on it. They were all of fashion models. Well, no wonder, what do they know. With disgust, I put the calendar back on the shelf and picked up another one. Hmm. This one had cats on it. Maybe it would be better. Cats seem to know everything.


Mega challenge:

blind panic,
apartment,
fleas,
soap operas,
cajun cooking,
free and easy,
legal,
sangria,
public school,
new

class,
calendar,
keeping secrets,
boring,
fashion

Walking along, I passed by what used to be a public school. There were no classes on the calendar today, though. The neighborhood had changed, and there weren't enough kids and it was shut down. It was going to be torn down and something new put up, but money had run out, and now it simply lay in ruins, partially demolished.

Some people were camping out in it, probably vagrants. The smells of Cajun cooking drifted toward me. As I got closer, I could see them roasting something over a fire, and they were drinking something that might have been sangria, though it was hard to tell for sure. It looked like they were getting pretty drunk already, though they remained strangely silent. I crossed the street to the other side and continued on.

As I passed some apartments, a dog came out, fleas jumping all over it. I was afraid it might want to transfer some of them to me, but it acted like it was behind an invisible wall, and didn't try to jump up on me.

I passed a store with TVs in the window, heavily discounted. Good luck with that. Everything was reruns now, even soap operas, and it had just gotten too boring for most people. Too depressing, too.

I came up to a supermarket. Its windows were boarded up, but it was still open. A long line of people stood in front of it. The owner was just letting in a few at a time, so he could keep a better eye on them. This was getting common, and I had seen it in other places. Things had gotten to the point that people no longer cared as much what was legal and what was not, and were doing more shoplifting than paying. What they regarded as free and easy, though, the shop owners did not, and so the present setup evolved.

I watched as the owner took in a few people, than put his hand up to indicate that the others had to wait. Some in the front assumed exaggerated pleading postures, but he shook his head. One of the people halfway back along the line leaned out and formed his hand into an imitation of a gun and pretended to shoot at the shop owner. The shop owner pretended to shoot back, and the man in line clutched his chest and went into an overly dramatic death that took several minutes. One of the other people pretended to go into a blind panic, running around and jumping up and down and pointing at the "dead" man. I had seen similar things before, far too many times, but it never seemed to go out of fashion.

A real policeman came by and saw the situation and got into the spirit of things, pointing at the body and looking accusingly at the crowd, finally going up to one person after another, glaring intimidatingly at them. But they were real good at keeping secrets, and no one said anything. I shook my head at what was happening and moved on.

I had hoped that things would get better, but they just kept sliding downhill. I saw this type of stuff over and over, day after day, and the whole structure of the city, and of life in it, was slowly falling apart. Presumably it was the same way elsewhere, too, but it was hard to know these days.

I continued to walk through the silent city, sometimes stepping around invisible walls, sometimes seeing other people do the same. It just seemed to never end. The epidemic itself had largely passed, but the effects remained. The epidemic that would in later generations be called the mime flu.

Nobody called it that now, though, or said anything at all.

The Inspirational Blog Award

On Monday, August 17, 2009, I was given the One Lovely Blog Award from Akelamalu on her blog Everything And Nothing. Thank you, Akelamalu!



This is the fourth blog award I have received.

The award came with several rules, including passing it on to ten other people, but I'm only going to be able to comply with the part about linking back to the blog where I received it. I have already given the link to the blog, in the first paragraph, but below is the link to the specific post:

Everything And Nothing: Partytime............

200th post

This is the 200th post on this blog. It came a lot faster than the 100th post.

Coincidentally, the four year anniversary of this blog falls on August 22, 2009. I managed to get 200 posts in time for it, but that wasn't a goal, they just happened to come together. For several months I've been posting a lot more than usual, at several times the previous rate in fact. A couple of months ago, it looked like I might hit 200 posts before the end of the year, but as I neared August it became apparent that it was going to be sometime in August. I thought that I had started the blog around that month, but I had to check to see what date it was. It looked for a while like the 200th post might come significantly earlier than August 22nd, but I had to devote more time to other things the last couple of weeks or so, and the number of blog posts dropped a bit. Originally I hadn't planned to mention the anniversary, then began to think I might make a post about it. They were now so close together, though, that I decided to put them both in the same post.

Besides the increased number of posts per month during this hundred posts, the addition of the Wordzzle posts is probably the biggest change. The other posts are generally of the type I've had on before, though dreams may be a slightly bigger proportion of them than previously.

I also started getting my first blog awards. So far, they are just in the posts where I mentioned them, but I'll have to get around to modifying the template, something I rarely do, and put them in along the side.

Another change is the addition of a Table of Contents for Stephen's Thoughts, in another blog linked to from this one. Though I suspect it's rarely used, I wanted to show what was available, and make it easy to get to any particular post. It's probably good that I did it, since the link at the bottom of the blog to older posts has recently disappeared. I've noticed that it's not on some other blogs either. Perhaps they still use the older format template, as I do, and for some reason some features are being dropped.

Comics art imitating life

Several times over the years I've had some cases of deja vu while seeing images on television. I was able to place them fairly quickly, though, in some cases instantly, as things I had seen in comic books long ago.

One time, several years ago, I saw an old clip of some disaster in some other country, with the announcer in the foreground talking into a microphone and dirt and debris behind him, and an old man kept coming into view a few feet back. The old man had his mouth open wide in an expression of despair, the mouth a tall rectangle with a few ragged teeth showing and a lot of them gone. He kept coming back on camera, evidently wanting to be part of the broadcast, always with the same expression, always looking the same. I was astonished. It was the same figure I had seen in the comics, drawn by Jack Kirby probably, probably in the 1960s or early '70s. I had thought it was terribly exaggerated when I saw it in the comic book, the mouth open far beyond anything in real life, with lots of artistic license, but here was the original for it, what must have been the original, and it looked just like it.

There was also a case where I saw, again several years ago, a scene in a movie in which some people were sitting down with their backs to each other, maybe tied up but I'm not sure now, with the tops of their legs seeming unusually long and sticking out too far. I had seen the same image, with Sgt. Fury and some of his commandos I think, tied up in a circle with their backs to something, back in the mid 1960s. I had thought at the time that the legs were much too long, that their length was terribly exaggerated, but they looked the same in real life.

Another time, several years ago but perhaps a little more recent than the others, I saw a replay of an Elvis Presley concert, from the late '60s probably, or maybe a little earlier. In one scene, his arms were stretching out in opposite directions, and his hand was reaching out toward the camera, fingers spread, his face turned and looking up toward the camera imploringly as he sang. The cloth of his sleeve was covered in wrinkles because of the arm stretching out and upward like that, and the fingers large and foreshortened, the fingertips looking square and seeming to form an arc with the thumb. I realized with wonder that I had seen the same thing years ago, in a comic where the Human Torch was having trouble with his powers and trying to light up without much success. It had seemed exaggerated again, the extreme foreshortening and the large hand with the squarish fingers in an arc, and the extreme wrinkling of the sleeve, an unusual thing for a superhero costume and it seemed a vastly overdone effect. Even the anguished face was there.

Then, a few years ago, I saw part of an outdoor concert from the mid '60s, with Peter, Paul and Mary among the performers there. The camera tended to stay on Mary as she sang, looking up at her face, which was in the sunlight. Her face had dark shadows in places, and because of the angle of viewing looked more squarish. The wind was blowing, blowing strands of blond hair across her face as she sang, the hair making more shadows, strands of shadows on her face. I realized, again with astonishment, that I had seen the same image in the comics, probably for Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman, another member of the Fantastic Four.

I'm not suggesting that there's anything wrong with doing this. It's common for artists to use models, and common for artists to take inspiration from real life and from what they see around them. It's just interesting to know what the artist(s) in these cases used, and that the extra effort was put forth, even when a comic was involved. And also that, though some of the drawings seemed exaggerated, they were in fact drawn from life.

Dream - The creatures in the basement

On April 7 or 8, 2009, I had a dream in which I apparently killed something that turned out to be a baby dragon, and when I tried to escape I went into a basement filled with strange creatures.

The first part of the dream, except for some vague impressions of driving back and forth doing pickup and delivery, is largely forgotten.

Then, at some point, I came to a place like the front parts counter of a local Chevrolet dealer, as it was back in the 1970s and '80s. There was someone behind the counter and also someone outside it. There were also a few other people nearby. It was sometime in the morning.

After a while, my mother showed up. I think she went there to tell me something, perhaps to remind me to come home for lunch, though I'm not sure. I talked to her for a while, and sometimes to a person or two in the area. We started slowly drawing away, then, preparing to leave, but though she took a step or two away, my mother kept on talking to someone at or near the counter, her body turned partly back toward them. I waited, not saying much myself, and getting a little impatient.

While waiting, I noticed a dark, roundish, hazy-looking thing, like a large bug, near the counter along where a small side wall was, where the floor met the wall. It looked like a small dustball, with a long, thin, neck-like structure sticking out of it. I threw something at it, breaking the neck-like structure off. It was brittle, like a thin piece of meat that had been burned almost to ashes. My mother objected, too late, saying, "Ohh!...," disappointed. It was going to grow up into a dragon. Well, too late now.

There was some question about the dragons getting mad, and something else was happening where the thing was, something growing out of the dustball, a small totally black dragon, looking two-dimensional, like a dark, impenetrable shadow, except for an eye, like a cutout in the shadow, looking mad.

Some things were coming, somewhere out there, somewhere to the west. Someone came and told us and some others. Looking out, you could sense them, feel them coming, though nothing was visible yet. The day seemed darker, as faint clouds partially obscured the sun, which seemed to be getting low in the sky. A faint, slightly cool wind blew in from the west, the direction from which they were coming. I'm not sure exactly what they were, but we were told that the dragons were notifying a lot of the other strange, fantastical (and generally large) animals, which had then notified others, etc. They were now headed our way, converging on us. We had to get away before they got here.

There was a narrow doorway beside the counter, with old chipped paint on the door frame and short hallway beyond, light blue paint showing though the white outer paint so much that it was mostly blue. It led down some old grimy short steps to a dark sunken room, maybe six to eight feet down. Some boxes and things were in the room, mostly near the walls. Strange things hid among the boxes, fantastic creatures.

I went a little down the stairs. A wizard, standing outside near the doorway, told us we needed to hide, to go to our secret places as planned, as we had rehearsed. A bunch of people, some outside and some inside, did as instructed, disappearing, going under the layers of reality, like burrowing under layers of cardboard, disappearing like bugs scurrying away from the light, and the place was suddenly almost empty. I went away too, going through layers that were like stacked cardboard, reaching a place beyond like a little niche.

The creatures were surprised, puzzled, not sure what to make of the sudden activity and then the emptiness. I came out, though, and went through the darkened sunken room, the things watching from the shadows, interested but still slow to move, slightly cautious after the strange happenings. They were generally not very large, probably mostly in the two to four foot high area, but they tended to be on the thick side, particularly their upper bodies and heads, and could be very dangerous. They started to get a bit more bold, slowly coming out of their hiding places.

I went up the stairs on the other side of the room and out to the back yard, which appeared to be the back yard of my grandmother's house in Arizona, although her house there didn't have a basement. There were more strange creatures out there, different from and not connected with the creatures inside, like they each had their own dimension or universe. There were various objects in the yard and back by the house. It was night now, out back, though when I had killed, or apparently killed, the bug creature it had been morning, perhaps near lunchtime. Now, out back, it was late at night, perhaps ten or eleven, and the creatures were sleeping, not expecting anything. Someone came up the stairs after me, perhaps my mother or maybe another relative, I'm not sure now. Some of the creatures from inside were starting to follow us, heading for the stairs to come up after us.

I went to the right around a corner, to where part of the house was set back a bit. There was a stack of the creatures there, sleeping. I woke them up. They were a little slow to wake, and puzzled at what was happening, surprised too. Some of the things from inside were getting in the yard now. There was an old round piece of cardboard, like an oversized plate, that I half tossed, half pushed toward a creature or two. There was also a largish crumpled ball of old cardboard that I rolled and tossed.

The creatures were slowly murmuring to each other and milling around, dim forms in the darkness. We all started playing with each other, like children, a kind of slow motion playing, and the mood became happier and lighter.