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The industrial area I dreamed of last night was contaminated by acid. The chain link fences that kept me hemmed in were rusty. The galvanized coating had turned a dirty brown and when I thought about using the power of being lucid to propel myself outta there, suddenly it extended overhead and got narrow, and sometime there were filthy ditches to keep me away from other unimpeded passageways. I wasn't afraid. I knew I was dreaming. I was keenly aware that I was asleep in my own bed, but it was difficult to get away from such dingy surroundings.
Another dream involve a rangy martial expert who attempted to bully me. He was accompanied by a pudgy dupe who adored him. He tried to intimidate me to impress the dupe with his power, but I tricked him into mortally wounding this bottom, and then he had to face me alone with only his wit and grit to finish me off. That proved to be folly.
When he would come after me I leapt up higher in the air than he could reach. Sometime when he got frustrated and turned away from me I would swoop down and grab him by his shirt collar and yank him up into the air, and then drop him from a height high enough to hurt, but not kill him. One time I grabbed him and dragged him toward a brick wall I could go through, but his body couldn't. He began to run when he saw me. Even after I was fully awake and in beta consciousness I found myself looking for new ways to torment him.
The weather yesterday was pleasant. It rained a little now and then, and as I drove over to Fayetteville and back looking to buy some inulin there was a mist in the air. Along with the mist was the newly-minted green of Spring that suggested I might be in Ireland. At least from the pictures and videos I've seen of it. I've never been to Ireland or anywhere in Europe. I might not go even when I win the lottery. All the old world seems too filled and infatuated with their old traditions and god awful archaic architecture and Catholic relics.
When I returned from Fayetteville, and then did the research on the internet that revealed that the new Metamucil had the chicory inulin I sought, I went to the Wal-Mart and easily found it along with all the other types of Metamucil. Then, upon my return to my house I drove to my brother's house deeper in the woods next door, to share the findings of my research. He is just as interested in learning how to enable his friendly gut bacteria as I am.
He was working on extending the small deck/porch to the rear entrance to his house that everybody uses instead of the front door. His twin grandsons were visiting with their mother. I like all those people, so I offered to help him as an excuse to hang around the kids a little. I'm never around kids (or anyone else as far as that's concerned). He was excited to learn about being able to buy inulin locally.
I couldn't do much to help him because my arthritic hands don't work the way they used to, but I could hand him stuff and hold things like boards in place while he sawed or put nails in them to hold them. I guess I helped some by distracting the two four year old boys. The deck was done all except the top planking by the time I left, and that was the easy part.
My older sister drove up with her extremely shy grandson. She brought some toy swords made of stiff foam, and the boys all went crazy over that. They had to be toned down quite a bit to keep them from hurting each other. Granted, the toys were made of foam, and that's a good thing, because they were literally trying to kill each other with them.
Usually, well, in the past, on Sunday mornings, I watch the news pundits assess the headlines from the last week. I don't watch the news much during the week. The news is not news anymore, and probably never has been. With the United States involved in three wars currently, the news is dreadful and boring. It's like those little boys with the toy swords, they're all trying to kill each other, but not with toys.
It's depressing to become more and more aware that the country I'm a citizen of is filled to the brim with war mongers. They simply love killing people by the score. If it wasn't about oil and religion they'd find another excuse. That's not very good testimony for their claim to worship The Prince Of Peace. It's horrible to realize after all these years that I was correct about them when rebelling as a teenager, they're all liars and hypocrites. Selah
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
