Not Again

That was insane. And a rarity that surfacing to near consciousness I sank back into the same scenario several times. Nobody is interested in somebody else’s dreams, but this my blog, isn’t it. I don’t know what my age was, but recalled into the Navy yet one more time again. Was it an anxiety dream? I wondered that every time I “surfaced.” Not a ship this time, an office in, like a bombed-out warehouse full of people milling around thousands of desks piled high with documents. I couldn’t tell my rank, which over the years has differed from such dream to such dream. Seems like I showed up with three stripes, was handed a new coat with four stripes, then had to take it off because we were not permitted to wear the uniform lest someone realize we were military. So there I was in black pants and a blindingly white shirt with black tie and everybody else dressed like slobs, so they knew anyway. My boss was Captain Hurt, whom I knew long years ago. He had worked for Admiral Rickover. My assistant was a lieutenant commander, a devious man who never gave me a straight answer and made every effort to make sure I couldn’t figure out what was going on, or where I was, or what the command’s mission was, or what my job was supposed to be. The captain phoned me every morning to ask what I was going to be doing that day. I had no idea, so made up something. One day I told him we were going to check out something “at ESO” only to have the assistant tell me later, “this is ESO” and we wandered warehouses all day. One day he took me out to walk and inspect a very long and wide pier alongside a very wide river. I saw an enormous high, wide, flat vessel plowing up the river, and commented, “That’s a beautiful aircraft carrier.” My assistant, who was trying harder and harder every day to make sure I knew nothing, responded, “Sir, that’s a barge.” As it plowed on past us I saw that it was a barge. A naval officer who can't tell a barge from an aircraft carrier does not feel very competent, even in a dream. At the end of my day on the job I was handed my bill: they were charging me ten dollars rent for my desk chair, which I never even sat in it and had no idea where my desk was. At some point, my brain, or perhaps the lower regions, roused me enough to look at the clock, 3:32 so mercifully time to get up. Not to blog this insanity. What causes this sort of dream? Maybe it was the WheatChex with a circle of dark maple syrup and whole milk I had for supper, I never drink milk at suppertime, never drink whole milk at all, and haven’t eaten dry cereal in months, because I try to eat little wheat. Jiminy. Life isn’t overwhelming, but had me extra tired yesterday. And wandering first WalMart then Sam’s looking for a dehumidifier, the eyes kept trying to take a nap.

At bedtime last night, well it wasn’t bedtime, was it, not even seven o’clock, I opened to read more of Gravity’s Rainbow. Someone was right: Pynchon goes into detail. Maybe too much. Looking at other books and writers, Glittering Images drove me so nuts with the most infinitesmal details that I never read another book in the series. With Midnight’s Children Rushdie was fascinatingly detailed and it was so good, a book I stretched out and delayed finishing as long as I could, and whatever else of his I’ve read is almost as much so. Pynchon doesn’t write about his character, he makes you become the character whom I don’t really need to know quite that well. I certainly don't need to keep smelling the tobacco smoke. This must be tertiary smoke. Also, I didn’t realize the book was going to be two inches thick. I’ll continue, but don’t intend to be blogging about it. Anyway, just as I opened the book, Linda turned on Antique Roadshow and I totally zonked, dozing off as she was saying something about, "You're going to be awake at midnight, you know."

This morning, walk with Robert, breakfast, finish drafting our worship booklet for next Sunday and send it to Madge. Phone call to Emory.

The teaspoon of butter swished in a large coffee has quieted early morning hunger. I don’t know about ingesting that fat though. Maybe I’ll try a teaspoon of olive oil.