There’s a light on in the attic.
Though the house is dark and shuttered,
I can see a flickerin’ flutter,
And I know what it’s about.
There’s a light on in the attic.
I can see it from the outside.
And I know you’re on the inside… lookin’ out.
Though I’m much too lazy and uninspired to do any blogging myself these days, I do take a glance around at some of my favorites every couple weeks to see what’s what. I’ve checked the witty kitty’s blog semi-regularly to see about any update on her condition. She hadn’t updated her blog in a couple months and I finally read some of the comments to her last entry. I am shocked and saddened and the world is truly a poorer place without her.
Not intentionally neglecting this thing. Just never get around to it. Here’s a quickie. I last ran my automobile in late Sep or early Oct of 2008. I hadn’t really run it very much in 2008 but I took it for a bit of a cruise to a golf outing to give it a little exercise. The battery was dead then when I went to start it. I put a charge on the battery and she started right up. Picked up one of the usual suspects and headed for the golf course. Played the round and stopped for gas leaving the course. Parked the car in the garage when I got home and when I tried to start it a week later, nothing, flat as a pancake. Put it on the charger again and this time no amount of charging would let me start it. A couple weeks later I got around to buying a new battery for it and then didn’t get it out of the garage again for the remainder of 2008. Nor did I get it out in all of 2009. No reason, just never got around to it. Now this past week the weather has been pretty good here so I’ve been doing some yard work and going in and out of the garage. It occurred to me after stepping over all the things I’d just been pitching in there for the last year that the garage needed a cleaning. Since the car hadn’t moved since 2008 it had gradually been surrounded by things. I knew it would be easier to clean with the car out. I also knew I hadn’t actually tried to start it with the new battery that I’d installed 18 months earlier and that it too would probably need a charge. So I hooked it up this afternoon and left it to drink electricity for a bit. Went out about 7 this evening and turned it over. I didn’t clean the garage but I did discover that I’d only put about 48 miles on the trip odometer since the last fill up. Anybody want to buy 20 gallons of 18 months old gas?
…and then the next week or so turned into most of a month.
Some time back, I don’t recall exactly when, I’d had another kind of odd dream which I have good recall of.
I’m sitting in the parking lot of grocery store I’d worked at 20 something years ago. I’m in a car talking to a guy. Don’t know him in real life. We had been running around earlier in the dream. Not sure how we ended up in the parking lot but we were about to part company. He was headed south but my truck was parked north, near a streetfest we’d attended earlier. Out his driver’s side window was a woman I know only from cyberspace. We’ll call her Mata Hairi. (Yes, I know that’s not the way it’s spelled) She was sitting in an early 90’s, burgundy, Buick 4 door. I remembered that she’d been downtown earlier as well and maybe she could give me a lift back. I hopped into her car with little fanfare and we headed back. She pulled out of the parking lot to head north on Rt 1. However she waited til the very last moment to actually turn the nose of the car to the left and I was sure we were going to roll straight into the woods across the street from the lot. I think I uttered an expletive. She did finally turn, hard, physically rolling her into me before I pushed her back behind the wheel. Just before she made impact with me on my side of the car I felt her hair brush my arm. I was almost instantly giddy. We drove north to 14th St and turned east toward Greenwood Cemetery Rd. Heading north on Greenwood we came upon one of the golf courses of my dreams. There are 4 golf courses I play in my dreams that don’t exist in real life. One on the east side of town, one on the south, one on the west and one south of the many years gone ‘singing bridge’ near Oakwood. As the course came into view, what had previously been an overcast day was at once sunny. A brilliant red fox sat near the road near the course boundary and watched as we passed. His eyes were strikingly yellow. We hit a few balls on the driving range before continuing on towards my truck. At this point we had abandoned her car and were proceeding on foot. I pointed to the north and east at the ‘east’ course which was visible from where we were. In real life the east course would be located 4 or 5 miles away but somehow we could see it just across the river. I told her it was where my father and I had played. We continued walking towards the downtown across a bridge which has not been in existence in my lifetime but did once exist. It’s been gone for at least 50 years. As we approached Main St we came upon the back entrance of an antique shop and decided to have a look around before heading on. It was just like any other shop you’ve ever been in til we exited out the front door. Along the bannister of the front porch were small framed photos of people who had died. As we stepped down the front steps we could see the outside of the bannister was literally covered with the same type of thing. Mata Hairi remarks that maybe it’s his (the shop owner’s) hobby. Then I notice the front yard. There is a single tree in the front yard. The rest of the yard is absolutely covered with rounded rocks of varying sizes that seem to be some kind of memorial markers. I told her I didn’t think this was a hobby. I didn’t really know what to think of it. Then I woke up.
I’d enjoyed the sunny day and spending time with my friend but the ending struck me as kind of strange. Thinking back on it, it became maybe even a little stranger.
Nobody in real life has ever seen these courses. While it is true that my father and I had played the one course, it only happened after he’d died. We had played in a dream after his death.
We’d spent the day on the couse and afterwards had a bbq on the clubhouse patio. He said he really liked my course and was glad I shared it with him. I told him I thought he was able to see it now because he, like the course, only existed in my head. It was a very pleasant dream.
So in review:
We have death memorials at the shop
A golf course on Greenwood Cemetery Rd.
A living person besides me who has now been exposed in my dreams to one of these courses, previously seen only by a dead person in my dreams.
And I pointed out the course to her that I’d played with the old man. A dream I’d told her about before and then I wondered… is she alive? Is she in trouble?
I blinked the fog out of my head and dashed off an email to her telling her she’d just been in a golf course dream and that I was kind of worried.
Later that day or the next I got something back from her stating she still had a pulse but she’d remembered me telling her about playing golf with my dad. And that now she was kind of worried. Fortunately worrying won’t kill you. But it was all very strange.
Some months ago I’d dreamt I started working at Target. I don’t recall much about it other than I walked around all day doing very little while wearing a red vest. At the end of the day somebody noticed I wasn’t wearing my name tag. I hadn’t worn one all day because I didn’t have a name tag. It didn’t seem to matter. Everybody knew I worked there because I was wearing the vest.
This morning I had a second Target work dream. As best as I can recall I’m working a register at the dream’s opening. That’s probably not where it started but that’s as far back as I can see. Today I’m not wearing the red vest. Nobody is. I seem to work several registers without logging in or out of any of them. I’m just going where the people are and ringing up their purchases. I’m thinking the running several registers at the same time is probably not correct but I’m not going to tell on myself.
After I check out my last customer an attaractive brunette with a dazzling smile comes up to me. She’s my boss but not the boss. She tells me I still don’t have a name tag yet but to follow her back to the offices and she’ll make sure I get one. She pushes through the throng of people at the front of the store. I follow along behind her. She has a fantastic butt. I’m not really thinking about following her anymore. I’m following the butt. It’s spectacular. Somebody should right a story about it. I guess maybe somebody is.
Anyway… my progress is suddenly impeded by 2 enormous women pushing shopping carts. The vision of the amazing bottom is replaced by these 2 moving very slowly and backing up traffic behind them. Another woman comes from nowhere and hands me my name tag. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing at this point. I haven’t hit a time clock all day. I have no real instruction or direction. I head on back to the offices to see where the emperess of butt is. I go through the doors and it appears to be another world. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Target at all. Lots of people typing in a mass secretarial pool. As I walk down the hallway, a door opens and about 8 or 10 men wearing very expensive looking blue suits, wrap around sunglasses and slicked back hair exit and walk past me. Somehow I know they are from corporate but what it is they do is beyond me. I turn around and head the other way. I can see through the glass doors at the other end of the hallway. The garden department is visible outdoors. I go to check it out. Just before I reach the door I enter an atrium which is a guitar maker’s studio. Apparently Target makes their own guitars. Who’d a thunk? I pick up the schematic of one currently being assembled. It’s a Stradivarius. Target makes Stradivarius. This one is a custom for a special customer. It has 5 main strings but then an extra 2 outside the fret board.
I start to wonder how long I’ve been back in the back horsing around and wonder if it’s time to go home yet. I head to the front of the store where the crowd has cleared. Only a couple lanes open now and a few customers. There’s a small cubby hole of an office in the front of the store up a few stairs. Some woman coming down the stairs accidentally swipes me with a pen across the face as I enter. I park myself in a chair and tie my shoe. The brunette with the dazzling smile appears and hands me some papers. I briefly peruse them and see they involve me getting one of the blue suits. Cool! She says someone has written my name on my face, but that I’ve still got my name tag on and that if I take it off it shouldn’t happen again.
Some guy comes in, we exchange greetings and he sits at a desk across the room. I head back down the stairs and see my buddy Kyle talking to some other manager. It looks like he’s just been hired. He’s cut his hair and is wearing an odd looking sweater. It’s kinda freaky. I say hi, he talks about golf and that’s about it.
Haven’t done this in a little bit so I’ll make it a quickie just to get my feet wet.
Somewhere in early June, I got in a bit of a thing with my internet provider. I think it went something like this: I forgot to pay my broadband bill (which is also my cable provider) in April. The total for my internet and cable for a month was like, oh… $100. So that means the May bill comes and the total is for like $199 and something cents. It’s a pretty eye opening number. I never watch much TV so the cable part of it always sort of eats at me andwhen you put a couple of those months together it turns into a big bill. So the this one is due about the 23rd or 24th of May. I write out the check, jam it into the envelope and aim to get it into the mailstream a week ahead of time. What I actually do is leave it sitting in the console of my truck and gradually bury it under unused BK napkins and golf scorecards. So it gets to be about Memorial Day weekend and I find it while rifling through the truck. Naturally nothing is going anywhere till the day after Memorial Day so that’s when I get it in the mail. This means it’s already late again. So I’m irritated at making myself pay another pittance of a late fee they will assess on the next bill but at least am secure in knowing I paid it. Somewhere around the 5th, 6th or 7th of June I crawl out of bed and to the computer to check my email. Up comes some screen saying I need to contact Comcast to upload something to my computer. I attempt to do this but am given a screen that tells me to please contact Comcast support at some telephone number. The person on the other end of the line tells me my account has been suspended for non-payment. I know snail mail can be slow, but I sent the MF’er out almost 2 weeks earlier so it ought to be there. Of course for some reason they’d only suspended my internet service but were happily pumping the cable into my house. I don’t how that’s possible from the technical side but that’s what was going on. I wasn’t thrilled but the phone contact assured me she could turn the internet back on for me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered reading a terms of service agreement that said “should service be suspended, a $50 charge would be applied for resumption of service”. It was then that I pulled the plug. I said fuck it, let’s just go ahead and put an end to the whole thing. Send somebody to unhook me and send me a final bill and we’ll call it a day. It got kind of silent on the other end. And then she says my final balance will be for $160 something and they’d send a bill saying that. So the man came and unhooked it all and then I got a check for $30 something in the mail as what was leftover after my original check had arrived (which must have damn near happened the day I cancelled the account). Anyway I went cold turkey on the ISP for about 7 weeks here at home. I have some limited web usage and can check email through my cell phone so I wasn’t completely isolated. And a short time ago I got a DSL line hooked up from the phone company. They actually had to come and hook me up as I haven’t had a home phone in years and the terminal on the back of the house needed to be updated. I think it had the Illinois Bell logo on it and that company hasn’t operated for several years either. Now I’m happily surfing the web and watching Netflix movies on my computer. I’ve even been doing a little running. I’ll get to that another time. Adios!
I stopped at County Market on the way home from work Friday morning. They had this ice cream by Prairie Farms called “Cows-Moo-Politan”. It’s chocolate ice cream, vanilla ice cream with little milk chocolate moo cows strewn throughout. I thought it sounded pretty good so I picked up a carton. Last night about 10 I was thinking I better go eat a big bunch of that stuff. So I opened the freezer door and it wasn’t there. What the fuck? I look at the counter and there it still sat. I’d put the cold stuff in the fridge but left the ice cream on the counter. It wasn’t running all over the counter because I’d had a stack of dish towels sitting on the counter right beside the fridge. They had pretty much soaked up all the ice cream. So what I had left was an unopened carton of ice cream with nothing but what were no doubt very sticky little milk chocolate cows inside. Bastards!