What do we do with our dreams?

Things of our dreams.  An Image I made some years ago. 

I had two very vivid dreams last night...  That is not out of the ordinary for me... but they were different than usual...   I woke up after the first one about 4 am...   it was about me making one of my goals, the second one was about making something mine.
I was on the mountain, standing there looking at all the flags going up and down the cliffs, in bright reds, whites and blues. Its an unfamiliar, foreboding place.  I was surrounded by strange people, speaking languages I can’t recognize. I could see how dark the edges of the rocks were all around me, and i could see it go on up above me, past the clouds.  I felt like I was nowhere. I was at Everest, at base camp on the Tibet / China side.  I can recognize it from pictures and documentaries, but in all the earth, this is its peak...  this is the hardest thing...  while I felt that I have come farther than I ever expected, I felt that l will never climb that mountain.  I stood at its foot and stared deeply into it.   Nothing I've ever felt in my waking life, felt like that... to stare into the abyss, to look upon it with favor, not disdain.  To be there with strangers and yet all alone before the summit of the highest point of the world.  The wind whipped so hard around me I couldn't hear anything but it and the banners snapping up the hills.  It was so surreal.  Even the smell of it was distinct.  I felt cold.  I felt weak.  I felt like my heart was giving out.  But I was there.  I remember that I walked to the edge of some bluff and looked out over nothing almost as far as I could see, and practically fell down on both knees before it.  Lost in thought, watching the flags and banners... the prayer cloths in the wind... the smoke going sideways from small fires... small little makeshift houses and buildings among the rocks and grass.  It was just open, nothing.  It was beautiful. It was beautiful because there was nothing, but there before me was the most majestic crag on this earth.  There was nothing stopping me from it except myself.   Somewhere a few minutes into being kneeled before it, is when I woke up.
A little miffed about waking up from that, I slowly drifted back to sleep.  I stopped to look at my phone, and noted it was 3:50am.
It became a little less typical of me to have a dream about everyday life.  I've definitely suffered from deja vu throughout my life.  I see small little pictures of things that I’ve come to realize weeks or months later are unfolding right before me.   As I grow older, I am experiencing longer bouts of it, but with less frequency.  As a kid, I saw a silver door knob, at a crooked angle: a month later in gym glass I fell, ramming my head into the wall, and sitting up I looked up to see that door knob. Other times I have seen road signs with sunsets behind them, or people walking and talking around me; all to find it all come true.  This time, it was a normal feeling.
I'm laying lengthwise on a brown leather couch [that I don't own], in a place that I don’t recognize [ie I don't own], but its clearly mine. My art is on the wall facing me. The walls are painted in colors I’d choose. Everything about this place feels comfortable to me. Its warm there. There is some sun light coming from behind me. And I feel that I belong. I hear a voice, softly, but don’t understand the words. I look down to realize I have someone laying in my lap covered in a blanket and she's staring up at me into my eyes.  I look at her and see she's biting her bottom lip.  She looks timid, but happy, and like she just woke up suddenly and was surprised to see me.  About as surprised as I was to see her like that.  The only thing I remember was reaching down, grabbing her with my left hand and squeezing her right where her but meets the back of her leg, as she rolls over. I begin brushing her hair out of her face with my right hand as she keeps looking at me with her big eyes. I keep my hand on the right side of her face, as I feel her rush in to kiss me.  I see her eyes close as our noses and foreheads touch and I kiss her.  It feels like the most romantic thing I have ever done in my life, and I feel her tears with my right hand, even though I know she is completely happy. That's when I wake up.   I don't have romantic dreams.  I just don't.  And so much of what was in this makes me wonder why I had it.  I wonder if that's a dream, or that's something that's going to come true.
Today, as I'm talking to my lawyer, I get an email with pictures of the inside of this condo I'm looking at buying sent from my realtor.  When I saw the layout, I realized where I've seen it.  Change the couch, change the pictures, change the paint... its that place.  After I left the office, I sat at lunch, looking through my email today, finding myself staring at the pictures. I wanted to cry.  Because there is so much in that dream I want to make real.
What do we do with our dreams?
Can you recycle dreams?  Can you save them? How do we even remember them… most times they fade so fast from us as we wake, we never can hold on to them.    When we are taken places we’ve never been and end up there in our dreams, how do remember that later in life if we get there?  How do we ever convince someone else what our dreams are, and how you know things from dreams? How do we transform our dreams into our memories?  That’s the secret to life.  How do you make that real, when you see it, when you feel it, when you know it, and its right there and you can do it… even when you cant, you dreams take you there. 

Conrad said,

"There were moments when one's past came back to one, as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare to yourself; but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of plants, and water, and silence. And this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a peace. It was the stillness of an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention. It looked at you with a vengeful aspect. I got used to it afterwards; I did not see it any more; I had no time. "

/// S

Dad chained car bumper to teen son, police say

article by: Ann Mcglynn [available online via QCTimes.net] Oct. 5th 2009

A Davenport father who allegedly chained a detached bumper from a 1979 Camaro to his son's ankle is facing a criminal charge after police say he admitted to doing so in an attempt to keep the 14-year-old from running away.

Richard Allen Collins, 37, of 1516 W. 7th St., is accused of child endangerment with bodily injury. His brother, James Harry Collins, 43, of the same address, is accused of assault with injury.

Authorities became involved late Sunday afternoon when Richard Collins called the police reporting his 14-year-old son was out of control.

According to reports:

The teen ran away from his father's house on Wednesday because "his father routinely beats and hits him," the police report states. The teen had visible signs of injury to his face.

He found a ride to Wilton, Iowa, where he was picked up by the police for jaywalking. The police called Richard Collins to pick up his son Sunday, but the teen said he did not want to go home with his father because he was afraid of being beaten.

The teen did eventually leave the police department with his dad, who arrived with James Collins to pick him up.

In the car on the way back to Davenport, there was a physical altercation between Richard Collins and his son. It is disputed as to whether it was just Richard Collins hitting his son, or if both participated, police reports indicate.

Once at the house, the physical altercation continued. Richard Collins told his son to go to his room. Reports indicate the 14-year-old damaged items in his room and threatened to run away again.

Richard and James Collins then wrapped a log chain around the teen's ankle and padlocked it. The opposite end of the chain was attached to what was later described as a heavy car bumper retrieved from the garage.

The windows in the teen's bedroom are screwed shut, the police report noted, also to prevent the teen from running away.

The car bumper was left chained to the teen's ankle for up to 30 minutes. After it was unhooked, Richard Collins called the police.

The Iowa Department of Human Services is involved. The teen was released to his mother.

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Man jumps from I-74 bridge, captured by police

by Tory Brecht, and Dustin Lemmon [available online via QCTimes.net September 14 2009]

A man who jumped off the Interstate 74 bridge tonight was captured by a Bettendorf police officer who commandeered a recreational boat as part of a Mississippi River search for the suspect.

Lt. Warren Beine of the Bettendorf Police Department identified the man who was arrested less than an hour after the incident began as Brian Moore, 27, of Moline. He is being held at the Scott County Jail and is expected to be charged with theft and interference with official acts. Other charges may be pending.

Beine said the arrest, stemming from an incident that began about 6:30 p.m. was a case of strong cooperation and coordination between Bettendorf and Moline police and firefighters.

Beine gave this account of the incident:

Bettendorf police received a call from a convenience store near the bridge that a suspect had attempted to steal liquor and took off on foot.

A witness told police the suspect got in a car headed toward the bridge and gave police the auto's license plate number.

A Bettendorf officer was already on the bridge, attending to a minor auto accident that had slowed traffic to a crawl on the Illinois-bound span when the call came in, so the officer approached the car in question.

The suspect got out of his car and the officer attempted to make an arrest only to have the man refuse to comply and walk away from him while they were in the middle of the bridge where there is an area that is used by official vehicles as a turnaround spot.

Although the officer did not feel he was in danger, he attempted to use a taser to prevent the man from escaping. However, only one of the device's two barbs went in the man's skin, so it failed to incapacitate him.

"Then the guy turned and jumped off the bridge," Beine said.

The officer looked over the railing and saw that the man was swimming, trying to escape. The water below the bridge at that location is only seven-feet deep. At that point, the Bettendorf police and Moline Fire Department launched rescue boats while a Bettendorf officer at nearby Leach Park commandeered a privately owned boat.

The suspect briefly avoided capture by intermittently hiding under water and then coming up for air, but he soon was captured and pulled aboard the fire department boat.

Paramedics checked the man and said he was not injured by the taser attempt, his jump or the time spent in the water.

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Depends if you ever been over this bridge or not, but ... its not the tallest bridge in the area... but I'd guess its probably 30 feet from the deck to the water. Its not something I'd be jumping off. Welcome to Stupid.

Not that I'm anointing myself as such, but the Fashion Police should be out in force. Why? It's just something that I'm really starting to notice now, the longer I'm stuck in crowds of old people. It's.... Almost a ''holier than thou" approach to dress, but worse; its the method of attempting to be MORE poor/podunk/humble THAN THOU. After a wonderful night at the symphony, on Friday, I couldn't help but sit and laugh the more I saw of it. It was wide spread; consisting mainly of old men with nothing better to do that dress ridiculously and go out into public view for the evening. And so, ladies and gentlemen of the jury;








Exhibit A.



the ivy cap.

aka the driving cap.

aka the newsboy.



Its ugly. Its stupid. Even my dad has one, but I haven't seen him wear it in years. In some cases, the cap and the bill are stitched together, in others, ridiculous as it sounds, there is a snap to be done/undone. It is most popular in black, tan, black/white herringbone, or brown tweed colors, but the odd mint green, or navy blue model is apparently made as well. The functionality of the hat is unknown. The bill is really shaped too poorly to shade much sunlight, and it lacks an extended brim to ward off rain or snow. It exists purely as a status symbol. "Status of what," is my question! The most I can really come up with, as a historical relevance, comes from the era of the late 1800's through 1940's, where this particular head wear is seen on working class and tradesman as a dress approach [ie The Lennox Heating/Air Company logo] [or the host of PBS's The Woodwright's Shop]; and most dominantly on youth conscripted into hawking papers on the street corners. Today though, this is an extremely popular choice of men over 50. I lost count at 25 of these; on people in suit coats, windbreakers, flannel, and sweatshirts; but all over the age of 50 [or more], facial hair tended to be mustaches only. Even as a hat person; I can't fathom why this hat is popular. Even when worn by Samuel L. Jackson, I can't allow for it on my head! [and he only wears it backwards... possibly to deny wearing one!] The hat channels, I guess, the by-gone era that people never lived in. People my dad's age have no reason for it. Everyone that wore one with the times, was dead before they were born, or were old enough to know it was no longer fashionable. Proper men's hats in general were no longer popular after Kennedy was elected; whom I now blame for eliminating only the good hats from society; we are now stuck with beggars and hangers on: cowboy hat guy, beanie with propeller clown, ivy cap idiot, and baseball cap [both genus: cappus ball sporticus [or sports/team related hats], and cappus ball noveltitum [including stuipd slangs and logos, hats advertising vacation destinations, and various veterans hats filled with pins], with various styles of ass clownery still attempting to thrive [hippie hat, assorted holiday hats, special event hats, random souveinier hats.] Exempt from my rants are: military duty hats, protective head wear, and true historic hats serving living history needs, and I suppose... real cowboys. Sadly enough, this includes the Village People.








Exhibit B.



The suspenders:


Clip On variety,


and


Novelty variety.




These are noted by extreme widths [often more than 1.5" wide], purely elastic, with gargantuan chromed clips. Several varieties exist; all related to the same family, but different due to number of yokes. Most would agree to have 4 yokes [two front, two back], but 3 yoke is popular in the elderly circuit [two front, one back]. Also noted are the extremely rediculous 2 yoke [one on each side, with a loop that encircles the shoulder; really... its a back-bra people!]. Suspenders [or braces], are a direct lineage to a time when belts were unknown to man, whom obviously emerged from caves with unibrows and swatches of red cloth clipped over each shoulder to hold up pants. Seriously? Suspenders are the modern descendent of bib overalls, which include the suspenders as functional necessity [yet curiously some still are made with belt loops!]. Suspender systems are popular [and very useful!] when utilized to distribute heavy loads across the body, in military and hiking situations, as well as construction. In the modern era, we define each man to use ONE, and only ONE article of pants restraint; to the elderly two are common at all times. For reasons unknown [See John Lithgow, as Exhibit B]. Belts are problematic for obese people, as well as men who deposit large weight at the midsection; when pants are pulled up to a point [think of the equator on a globe], they will slowly droop or settle lower and become far too loose; resulting in belt tightening to the point that it restricts bowel function. Now, personally, I love suspenders. I have 3 pairs that I never wear. Because I never have an excuse to wear them. Got it? But ALL of them are button in. Why? Clips are ridiculous. Clips look ugly. Clips ruin pants. Buttons are built in. Buttons are probably tailored. Buttons don't hop into your pants, like chinsey clip on suspenders from Kmart. Suspenders [aside from military, hiking and construction usages] reek of a boeme nature for most people. Think Amish. However, even they have the good sense not to use rainbows, or clips.



I reserve my last Exhibit, for later rebuttal.

.... Of course, there are other rediculous things out there I could talk about.

I suppose something that makes me just shudder in the thought of how stupid its become: Reunion Tours. Yes. I'm talking about the tendency of all things musical to turnaround 9 years after they break up and do a money grubbing reunion tour. Or, tours. See. Kiss thought they were doing something original when they did it... by it, I mean the endless parade of reunion, last of, no more coming back, cash grab tours. But now its not only popular, but its probably expected. I mean, on the one hand, I am stoked about possibly going to see Ronnie James Dio with Black Sabbath errrrrrr Heaven and Hell; something smells a tad bit funky about it all... since they did this once before you know. Then there is Immortal. A horridly humorous black metal band that decided to come back and tour... some more. Which Immortal is only of note because of THIS, the single greatest music video evvvvvver! [or this version, set to the Benny Hill theme song!] Or a how about Audioslave splitting up, so that Rage Against The Machine can have their reunion tour, and the rumored Soundgarden reunion can happen. sigh. Its all becoming so tired. Even the "Alice In Chains" reunion, which ofcourse is missing one important person... seems rediculous... almost to the point of Iowa State Fair Grand Stand Show embarrassament... soon there will be a tour of the Jackson 5, with Tito and a few puppets... and maybe some boy Jacko molested, will wear the Captain Crunch jacket. its just bad... rediculously bad..

So in the news.... [trying to avoid the point that shit like this does seem to happen outside of Florida],I ran across this gem. And really how could I avoid it? It involves the elderly, improvised weapons, and a new Thunderdome attitude thats been lacking among the Social Security Sect of late....

Linked from QCONLINE.com.

Police: 76-year-old beat 81-year-old with hammer

Comment on this story

Photo: Submitted Richard E. Johnson

Davenport police arrested a 76-year-old man today, alleging he hit an 81-year-old woman in the head with a hammer.

Richard Edison Johnson, 76, a resident of the Davenport Lend-a-Hand complex at 401 w. 3rd St., is charged with attempted murder. Police say he hit Elizabeth A. Alwine, 81, several times in the head with a hammer after an argument in the building's smoking area. She also is a resident of the complex.

The incident occurred about 11:30 a.m.

Ms. Alwine was taken to Genesis East Medical Center, where she was treated and released. .

Mr. Johnson is being held at the Scott County Jail on $32,500 bond.

[end]


and in a breath.... FUCK YES. Old people knocking the crap out of each other at the 'home! YESSS this really is my dream come true. And only one thing could possibly make it better; the MUGSHOT GOODNESS! Complete with the shit eating grin that just smears... "I Really Have No Idea Where I Parked" God dammit! All I have to do is let people be people, and they will relieve the tension in my life for me. Old people, cursing, bag of hammers.... instant Thunderdome! Golden.

Oh. I learned a new word the other day. Errrrr noun, I should say. "Turd Spoon" Figure it out? See, I'd have made the assumption it was some sort of sexual slang; its not. Aunt Jemima showed up at the store the other day; looking for a new toilet. She plugged hers up. Now, I dont know about you, but I've had some nasty poops, but never have they been candidates for Disposeable Toilet status.... back to Turd Spoons. So she was asking me about the old one; naturally, since its plugged [and not with paper!], how does she do removal and installation. I scratched my beard, and looked away. She let the awkward silence sit for a second, then started mumbling about needing a pump or something to transfer it to the new one [and my goodness, why wouldnt you do such a thing?!?!?]; and looked me dead in the eye, and ask if I sold "Turd Spoons." I got that grin that I can get. That one thats half Grinch, half mother-fucker, and topped off in Raisinettes.... "I'm not sure I've heard of that, is that a brand name product?" I let fly... Well no, it wasn't. She didnt think. But something, I guess, exists in her mind, somewhat akin to a soup ladel, specially designed for turd transfers. She calls it a Turd Spoon. I call it, another freaking rediculous thing from menards.