I dreamt I was in a rehab, no particular type. I sat in a chair with a binder full of notes, going through what to keep and toss. Continue reading “Behaving like an adult” »
I dreamt I was in a rehab, no particular type. I sat in a chair with a binder full of notes, going through what to keep and toss. Continue reading “Behaving like an adult” »
Wendy Wall wrote and sang I Woke Up Dreaming, describing dream connections to waking life. Her song lyrics melody respect dreams as another aspect of our waking reality. Continue reading “Wendy woke up dreaming” »
“How are you today?”
Easy to ask, but hard to answer. It depends upon who’s asking, and how far we want to go with someone else. I’ve lived with extreme depression on a personal level and with my relatives. Self-medicating is one way to ease the pain. It’s not a great solution, but research shows most people turn to self-medicating first. Continue reading “Is it going?” »
Light and dark are associated with good and evil, happy and sad, joy and despair, purity and pollution. Clear day, dark and stormy night have billions of tints and shades along the spectrum. Continue reading “natural sight” »
Dream of meeting Tommy with a group of Asian elders on a street after fifty years and he scolds me for not being careful
Ever since I read “Directing Your Destiny: How to Become the Writer, Producer, and Director of Your Dreams” by Jennifer Grace, I’ve taken her suggestion and I title my dreams. Including the main action of the dream in the title helps categorize them, allowing for easy retrieval when we look for dream patterns. Continue reading “working a dream” »
After my junior year of college, I left Southern Oregon College, now Southern Oregon University, and transferred to the University of Oregon in Eugene for a larger college experience . Continue reading “who judges perspectives?” »
“Why do writers write? Because it isn’t there,” said novelist Thomas Berger last century. I haven’t invented anything new, but have spent my life combining what others have created to form my own style. Continue reading “artist or no?” »
My grandfather was a 9th generation American, and was in his eighties when he wrote a letter to the 11th generation, welcoming us to the family. Continue reading “Love Anniversary” »
It’s the fiftieth anniversary of San Francisco’s Summer of Love. My friend and I were there, wore our beads and long hair, before starting freshman year of high school. We smoked marijuana and played on Golden Gate Park’s kiddy merry-go-round while rock and roll music played on the greens, and positive energy flowed like a river. Continue reading “Summer of Love” »
My dad brought home a record player with one speaker designed like a plastic jukebox and looked like a fabulous little space man. When I plugged it in next to the couch, its silver plastic chrome lit up bright red. Continue reading “the coolest” »