I'm out driving, choosing a grocery store.  I end up at the Giant in
Centreville, near 28 and 29.  (I have no idea why this store was in my
dream, as I have not been in that area in months, and have never been
in that particular Giant as far as I know.)  It is really early, almost
no one is in the store but a bunch of employees congregating for a
meeting near the produce section.  I'm listening to them talk about
their store moving and that one of the managers,  named McClintock
(like the old John Wayne movie),  taking a job at the new Bloom grocery
moving into the Reston Spectrum shopping center.

This Giant is built like Shoppers Food Warehouse, so you have to wind
thru the produce section to get to everything else.  On the way thru
the produce windabout I find the magazine rack.  While looking at
sports magazines, I find remnants of a comic book section.  There was a
section of Free Comic Book Day books (an actual event every year, with
free sample comics given out at all local comic shops) and I start
grabbing one of each, but they are mainly small press type books that I
have never seen before.  Next to the comics is a section which says
"hold for customer, did not pick up, now free to anyone".  I, being me,
grab them all.  These are bundled with string or in little boxes, and
one of the boxes has lots of little knick knacks including some
medications.  Then next to that section is a "free" section with other
cool stuff, including, packages of note cards, a
fancy screwdriver, and a fairy princess figurine.

Just then, Lyle, my friend now living in Mexico, and his friend Omar show up at magazine rack.  Lyle doesn't believe it's all free, he's suspicious that way.  He tells me I need to be reading this comic that is in free section. It is some bizarre looking thing that I browse, but by now I just want to take my stash to the car.  Lyle's daughter Mercedes shows up and finds some free toys.  We go to leave, and initially the cashier rings us up fine, and even starts to forge her manager's signature in the place to approve the sale.  But as she is signing the name, A.K. Johnson, she slows down and starts to hesitate on giving away so much free loot.  The manager walks over and now they both question the deal.  I explain free comic book day to them.  They ok it, but have to scan each item and put it on the floor behind the counter, which has morphed from a grocery store type checkout to a department store type checkout, with lots of floor space between cashier and doors with security scanners.

I start to leave and they want to keep my free screwdriver, but I successfully argue for it to be mine.  They give us no bag, we have to pile items in hands and hold things between our fingers.  Lyle is feeling weird so he hurrys thru, not helping Mercedes and I with all our loot.  After having to stop and pick up things we drop several times, we
get out the doors finally, relieved that the security scanner did not beep at us.

I rarely forward things, but in an effort to try to start blogging as close to daily as possible, I'll take the easy way out and cut and paste things like this occasionally.  I'm not sure if Pete McGlaughlin really wrote this, but I agree with much of it and think the immigration issue is a mess right now.

Becoming Illegal (From a New York resident to his
senator)
 
 
 

I've been on a dreaming kick lately, and had another vivid one last night.  I seriously rarely remember my dreams, so I'm not sure what has changed to let me recall so many lately.  There have even been a few in the past month or so that I haven't blogged, lucky for you.

This dream started off with me outside of a favorite place of my past, Aunt Doris and Uncle Dean's home in Manchester Maryland.  I was parked at the top of the driveway waiting for my sister.  She pulled up the long driveway and asked me if I would drive.  Pam, Anthony, and Jaime (my nephew and niece) got into my car and we headed off on a jaunt among the country roads of Carroll County.


As we cruised out  of town on route 30, my car morphed into some sort of little radio controlled car.  It was about 4' long, and I was standing on top of it steering it with the RC controls.  My family had also magically morphed small enough to fit inside.  I could only control the steering, the accelerator was locked in place, so I was a bit worried about our safety as we raced thru the countryside with several other RC-type vehicles.

We ended up stopping at a rustic old antique shop.  My family disappeared, and I browsed the shop, looking at really old pocket knifes and other non-exciting items spread throughout a shop that was just someone's home with display racks and cases.  The proprietor was a blind Jeff Daniels, with scraggly beard. A comic book shop owner walked in and gave "Jeff" some packages to sell, bundles of comics with DVDs attached.  I wanted to check them out, but a crowd of people was flocked around them.  I gave up and went back to the worthless junk displays.

"Jeff" was very friendly, and was preparing a huge meal for any and all guests.  As he cooked and I shopped, various locals dropped off items for the feast.  It was apparently a weekly event, with everyone in town welcome.  I was offered a plate and asked to taste test some fish he was cooking.  I tasted it and it was delightful, unlike my body odor.  Jeff pulled me aside and pointed out that my BO was quite strong, and that all the customers were complaining.  He said I could still stay for dinner, but that I might want to shower sometime soon.  I looked at myself and noticed that I was wearing no shoes, boxers, and my bright orange shirt.  And yes, I did smell quite ripe.  When the meal was prepared, everyone started claiming seats at the various tables in the kitchen, dining room, and family room.  I couldn't find my plate, the one that now had fish bones on it.


But "Jeff", using his nose, found my plate and I took it to the kitchen to load it up with the various foodstuffs that had been cooked up.  One large pot was full of various boiled meats, sausages, hunks of beef, and steaks.  One pot had 4 or so ears of corn, and I felt guilty as I took one of them.

I woke up at that point,thinking that perhaps I went to bed hungry.

So maybe this dream was only cool to me, but I'm going to share it anyway.

I'm at work, and on the 10th floor waiting for an elevator (I never go above the 1st floor, but probably dreamed about 10 because my Dad was a patient there last week.  He's fine now.).  The elevators here are in sets of three, and the one on the far right started to open.  But the doors opened very slowly, and the car was dark inside.  But three of us stepped inside anyway, and pressed the buttons for our floors.  The car jerked down half a floor, then stopped.  We thought we'd be stuck for awhile, but it went back up and opened up on 10. 

As the three of us stepped out, the middle car was opening and a crowd of people was piling into it.  We headed towards it, but the crowd was going to be too large, and I was afraid of getting left off and having to wait for the next elevator.  I turned around and noticed that my broken elevator was now fully lit.  I decided to chance it again.  I would hope that in real life, I would never get into an elevator car that I knew to be broken.  But I'm much more brazen in my dream life.

I get in and press the button for floor #1.  No one else was foolhardy enough to join me, and the doors close ominously.  Alone, I travel downward as the car glides smoothly towards the lobby.  9, 8, 7, 6, the numbers light up and everything appears to be functioning normally.  The car comes to a soft landing at #1, but the doors don't open.  The open door button doesn't respond, and the car starts rising again.  Up to floor 10 it shoots, but still the doors don't open.  It flies back down to 1, going much faster this time.  Then back and forth between 10 and 1, gathering speed each time.  I'm barely able to stand, clutching the railing and glued against the side of the car.  I am not worried about the car cutting loose from the cables and plummeting to the sub-basement, it never enters my mind actually.  I'm just worried about never getting off the thing.  I hesitate before pressing any of the other floor buttons, because I don't want the car to come to a screeching stop and throw me against the floor or ceiling.  But finally, I have to do something and start pressing the other numbers.  I eventually get them all pressed, but to no avail.  The car continues to just shoot up and down between 10 and 1.  I try the emergency stop button but it doesn't work either.  I realize that it is possible that no one knows of my plight, and decide to start hitting the alarm bell button.  But with the car moving so fast, it is possible that no one will hear me.  I start tapping out an S-O-S using the alarm bell.  I get a couple sets of it out, but then realize that I don't know if S is the three short bursts or the three long bursts.  So perhaps I've been signaling O-S-O.  I switch back and forth between those two options, hoping that somebody will hear me and call maintenance.

Suddenly, as it so often happens in dreams, the scene shifts with no transition.  I'm suddenly outside the elevator car and laying on the ground in the hospital sub-basement, three floors below the 1st floor.  But it looks different, instead of the miles of wiring and piping and crawlspace that it really is, it more resembles a mineshaft, or perhaps Hades.  There is open spaces and a huge cavernous rocky ceiling, with pipes and steam everywhere.  Off in front of me is an opening for the elevator system for the hospital.  The cars are on a loop, sort of like a roller coaster going straight up and down.  I need to get over one of the tracks to get to the stairs, but my runaway car is still speeding up and down the loop, flying by me every few seconds in the blink of an eye.  I can see myself getting splattered if I try to jump the track.   I see some people working on a mine cart and call for help, telling them that the elevator is broken.  One of them hears me and initially ignores me completely, but then shifts into action mode, blowing a whistle and running towards the elevator system.  I jump the track and head to the rung ladder, ready to climb up out of Hades to the hospital lobby.

I think that I should offer a husband-finding service to any woman looking to get married.  A couple days ago, one of my recent ex-girlfriends told me that she is now engaged.  While I am very happy for her (I wasn't in a good place when we dated, and was not ready for her, which she quickly figured out.), it made me realize that a trend is developing.

I believe that at least half of the women I've been somewhat serious with have married the next guy they dated. 

I imagine that it is just a coincidence, and that my relationship with them did nothing to bring them closer to wedded bliss.  If anything, spending time with me probably showed them what not to seek in a future mate.

But something makes it happen, so if anyone out there wants to find a husband give me a ring.  Spend 1-6 months with me and voila, you'll live happily ever after.

And for a reason that I'm still single, look no further than the #1 song the day I was born; "You Can't Hurry Love" by The Supremes.

I have no idea what to write right now, but will try to later.

Have just been glued to the TV and praying.

I rarely remember my dreams, so when I have "good" ones, I like to
share them right away before all the details slip from my fragile
little brain.  Now that I'm typing it out, it is not as "cool" as
it was when I woke up, but I'm bored so I'll go ahead and post it.  Feel free to be totally unimpressed.

So in my dream I'm at work, but it is not our current ER, but the old
one, in every detail.  It has clean holding with the doors on both
sides, the back hallway leading by Dr Mayer's office to comm, the north
and south sides with the counters exactly how they were, things that I
haven't thought about in years.  I walk into comm and Ray, the old ER
secretary, is training to be a comm spec.  Rob is the comm nurse with
him. 

I had been storing boxes of my crap in the ER for some time, and I had
to re-organize it.  I had dozens of those storage bins under all the
desks in comm, all clearly labeled with my name and what they
contained.  But I moved some of them to my car, so now I had space in
comm to move in all the bins that I kept out in the ER.  Yep, I was
keeping nine big storage tubs out on the north side.  I had them
stacked three high, and they were completely blocking one of the
entrances to the nurses' station.  Apparently, they had allowed me to
store them there for some time, and everyone had to walk all the way
around to the other side of the station to get in or out.  To my
surprise, no one had disturbed any of my stuff.  So I spend some time
consolidating bins out there with Pauline, who is the only nurse
working the north side.  Pauline is telling me a story about her sister
and follows me as I carry bins to comm.  In comm, Chim Chim (KrisK) is
now there, and she is re-wiring the dictaphone.  She apparently now is
an engineer, and was wearing safety glasses, splicing wires together to
get it to work again.

So then I wake up, and go to work for real.  Only work is now set up in
the mountains of West Virginia, and the comm room is in a hotel-like
structure, with a view of the pool.  I report to work for a night
shift, and am pleasantly surprised to find Lauren as my comm nurse.  It
is her first shift back from maternity leave.  She is reclining in bed,
wearing jeans and no shoes (no doubt thanks to that last email Lauren),
and doesn't have her new daughter, for which I chastise her.  The comm
room just has two beds, several tables spread around the room, glasses
of water everywhere, and no phones or radios anywhere.  There are
several other people in comm with us, and I tell them all about my
dream.  Amanda calls me a freak.  The window view looks up into the
mountains, and I notice that it is raining, and the pool is uncovered
but empty except for a few tree limbs.  I make the comment that if the
rain keeps up we'll be able to go swimming when it fills the pool.  It
is 2am, and someone questions Lauren and I as to why we are not
sleeping.  We answer that we're not used to working night shift (where
they are allowed to sleep apparently), and are used to being awake
together.

Then my 5am alarm went off and I really woke up.  And I seriously, briefly, thought that the second dream really happened, and I thought about bringing my swimsuit with me to work today.

So following up on my last entry, and a few conversations with friends, I hope I have an idea to help rid me of my depression.

I just spent some time going thru my blog here, making note of the 25 or so old private placeholder entries I need to finish.  One thing that struck me was how different my life was last year compared to the last several months.  Not only was I more active, but I made the time to write as well.

Trying to fix my problems by crawling into a shell has not made anything better.  Maybe I do need God after all.

Besides never blogging anymore it seems.

WARNING - This entry, like many of mine, is a self-serving pile of words, just meant as an exercise in "thinking out loud."  While some of my entries are meant to entertain or inform, this is mainly just a note to myself

I think my thoughts are pretty much the same as when I started this xanga thing a couple of years ago.

1 - I'm silly about "holding onto" my past.  I'd be a scrap booker if it was allowable for guys.  I have a foot locker or two of keepsakes (school yearbooks, my baby book, old school notes and papers, wedding invitations, ticket stubs, cards from exes, etc).  So obviously, the idea of keeping a journal has always intrigued me.  And in this increasingly paperless world, as online journal is the obvious choice.

2 - I consider myself a mediocre writer, and have always wanted to improve.  I have no delusions of ever being published, but I want to be the sort of writer that can hold a reader's attention.  I'm just talking Christmas cards, posts in online message boards, memos at work, and other little things like that.  Hopefully, as I read and write more, I'll become a competent hack.  Not just one that knows how to use a thesaurus, but one that can quasi-eloquently write on the fly.

3 - Everyone, even someone as incredibly modest as myself, likes to feel valuable to society.  Most of that desire is satisfied from my career, but I'd like to "contribute" in other areas as well.  And not just contribute, but feel connected to my friends and family.  I'm not much of a people person to be honest.  I can fake it pretty well at times, but my natural state is one of hermitcy.  Ok, that is probably not a word, but you get the point.  I tend to spend most of my time in solitary pursuits such as reading and watching movies.  And I am almost always extremely uncomfortable in groups of more than 2 people.  It is an anxiety disorder of some sort, I can force myself thru group situations when I have to or want to, but even if I look calm and happy on the outside, I'm a total mess on the inside.  So let me get off of that tangent now, and back to feeling connected.  Since I'm not all that great in keeping in touch with people in person or via the phone, I thought that maybe I'd do better via email/blogging.  I'd love to read the online ramblings of my friends and family, and hopefully they'll feel the same way.