Armageddon

It was one of those dreams that are created from the outside stimulation. There was a car or house alarm that would not stop along with the church bells ringing. On and on, ringing and buzzing. When I realized, I was a little startled. After a few minutes, I decided that if this was the end, if something really big happened, that Ole would come to the container and tell me so. This calmed me, but then I realized that if this was the end, maybe Ole would not be able to return. Then what.

Somehow, maybe just a moment later, I was asleep again. I don't remember if the bells and the alarm stopped, but now there was a whole new frame of mind. The medulla mind had injected it's basest elements, and I was along for a new ride in the Subconscious Express.

This new landscape was a combination of 1984 and Fight Club. Something was dreadfully wrong, and you could not talk about it. People were dying and being killed by tt, whatever tt was, but that was what I saw written on the notes that flashed by. It was like a snow-plow that would come by, and everyone would scramble to avoid it. I saw it twice, and barely escaped, feeling tazered in the aftermath.

We were in a group of about 8, and everyone decided to split and go it alone. This was not right, and I stood up to everyone saying we only had a chance together. No one agreed, but they all followed.

I went looking for answers, and who should appear? The original one, with her long black curls, big guffaw, and infectious smile, by my side. Back again after more than 15 years separated. For 5 of those years I had dreams with her; conversations, discussions, fights. Sometimes when was awake I was scared because it felt like we had been in contact. I was having a full interaction with her, but only in my dreams. Isn't this the definition of insanity? I never knew how she would appear in those dreams; angry, happy, sad, silent, sorrowful. Sometimes she needed me, but I always needed her.

A few years ago, I thought about contacting the real her. It plagued me for weeks, I got numbers and addresses, found out information. I never picked up that phone or sent the email, and I never stalked out the address. Finally I had to stop the obsession, and just let it go again, back to the dark corners to rest.

That dream today brought it back again. Her. She was skating in the dream, the skater that she is, down a stream as I walked beside her. She was happy to see me, open in a way that I knew she would tell me everything. Open in the way I always wished she would have been. The way that would have answered my questions and let me move on again. Or would it?

Dreams don't lie. She was there, and she knew about tt. And she was willing to talk about it. She pointed down the stream. 'I need to go now, and finish my route. But I will meet you later, over there, under the tree where you are headed.' Of course I agreed, I still hang on the hope of her every word.

The dream went on, it was a story line I had thought up years ago. The story is, there are too many people in the world, and no one knows what to do about it. Then an internet chain letter calls for a cleansing. On an appointed day, everyone is to kill one other person - without reason, choice, or circumstance. Somehow this letter affects everyone, and in the morning, the world is one half the population. At first, this is devastating, some places loose no one, while other towns, countries, regions are demolished, people have lost loved ones. But after some time, this event makes life for everyone better, there is abundance in everything, less pollution, more space, etc. Then there is another letter! People's greed fuels these purgings that create both terror and pleasure.

The dream was actually a little different, since the government was actually executing the killings. That's actually the governments job, executing the will of the people. The horror of the dream is of course based on the fact that half of the people actually supported this government, like the half of the population we have today, supporting an insane greedy American Way.

Then the dream was over. She never came back. Just like reality. She never talked to me. I never knew or understood. She is the phantom of my past that still haunts my relationships and dreams. It has become a pattern in my relationships now. Meeting, dating, committing, and leaving someone without them every really letting me know who they really are. Do I pick them, or are they attracted to me? Do I have to drag it out of them, demanding some submission of their consciousness? Sometimes I think so. Right now I think absolutely. Maybe some nice girl can show me otherwise, but I don't count on that.

Today it was just a dream, but that hole is still there.

The Departure From America

Right now it's noon in Amsterdam. After a few paragraphs, you may realize why some of this will not make sense.

I don't feel as wasted as I usually do, but I know it's coming. Jet Lag from the US to Europe is the tough one. Maybe that's because when you are coming home you have that little extra buzz of getting back to what's normal.

This has been a screwed up little trip. Here's the highlights and lowlights.

Leg one - Minneapolis to Detroit. I'm waiting at the gate, calling mom and dad and wishing them a pre-happy 48th wedding anniversary. There is an announcement at the gate that they have found a crack in the airplane. We are assured that they are having someone take a look at it, and that will be ready to go once the inspection is completed. Are they following procedures here, or are they actually worried that the plan might not be flight-worthy? The old man sitting next to me snickers, and I ask him if the crack is on his side of the plane or mine.

About 10 minutes later, they announce that they have found another plane to make the fight. We are moving from F3 to G15, BINGO! This is just halfway across the airport, about a 10 minute walk. We sit and sit waiting to board the new and improved. Boarding is quick, people are ready to go. There is not an empty seat on the plane.

The crew is uneasy now, and they announce that they have NO food or beverage service on the new stead. The captain announces that we will go without unless someone has strung objections. I waited for a gravity challenged female to start grumbling, it would have been fun to skewer her and serve her as the main course. We taxi away from the concourse about 50 minutes past departure time. Now the plane taxis for 15 minutes, taking the 494 exit east to 94 east and finally lifting off somewhere in Wisconsin.

Let's not forget, I have 2 more flight segments ahead.

The captain announces that we will be touching down the exact minute of the departure of my international flight in Detroit. Uh, right. Houston we have problems. The captain announces that if you have problems with your connecting flight, please present yourself to the stewards to make arrangements. Dutifully I present my ticket to the jittery Dutch speaking attendant, who tells me I will never make that flight. I know that, now what. She tells me to see the desk agent to get reassigned to the later flight to Amsterdam from Detroit! I am saved.

Leg two - Detroit to Amsterdam. The one hour layover flies by, and I make a flurry of last minute calls because I can. It will be one month without phone service here on the continent. My t-mobile phone works here, but it's $0.99 per minute for service. Then again, that's why you take vacation, to get away from the damn phone.

On the earlier flight I had the cat-bird seat. The flight was wide open, and I had a seat in an empty row. Can you say lay down and go to sleep?!? But I'm not on that flight now, and I can't pick my seat using the nifty internet check-in tool on the Northwest website. In fact, I'm lucky to be on the flight, because there are no empty seats on the flight. I'm in 19D, sandwiched between a rosary praying Hispanic guy and a excessively wide Turk. Don't get me wrong, the Turk is not mean, we talk a little and he is very pleasant. The excessively wide thing is not pleasant. These moments also make you realize that I am not small, or medium either. So what do we do about the arm rests?

The flight is really fine, except for the obnoxiousness of the seat-mounted multi-media displays playing NWA commercials. Once the flight started, I did a quick tour, and found the free computer games! Very nice compared to the continuous infomercials of the past. I played Bejeweled for hours! I hope it annoyed the Turk and Hispanic, because their constant chuckling at Something about Mary and I married a Super Heroine bugged the crap out of me!

In final approach, the captain announces that we are about 50 minutes late on arrival. WHAT? Why did we taxi from Detroit to Toronto to take off? It is happening again. Theoretically I had one hour 30 minutes to catch the flight to Berlin. Now it's 45 minutes. We arrive at G55, can there really be 55 gates in one concourse? YES. My flight is leaving from B26, is concourse B exactly opposite of concourse G? YES. Be calm, we can make this flight if we just move quickly. Unless there is a security checkpoint between the gates. There is. I reach B26 at 9:55 for my 10:10 flight. This is a bus gate, , and as I walk up the attendant is walking in the door, and the bus is pulling away from the door. I wave and shout, but she does not turn, just walks toward me and meets me at the desk, telling me I have missed the flight, and directly me to the transfer desk next to the security checkpoint. Not to worry, there is a 3:20 flight. Uggh.

Things pick up. I can use my phone to call Ole and tell him I am delayed before he leaves to pick me up at the airport. With the transfer ticket, I get a meal voucher, a 5 minute phone card, and a €50 voucher on a KLM flight. I still have to deal with a 4 hour layover on full jetlag. The meal voucher gets me a wilted lettuce Mediterranean salad (not mean to be wilted), and a huge kiwi cocktail fruit drink with enough kick to keep me writing this long.

The final kick is that the delay in arriving in Berlin leaves Ole and I in rush-hour traffic to and from the airport. More news about that later. I need to move now, as my eyelids get heavy, and every time I think of what to do, my head screams sleep.

Deer Camp

It's that time of year again, Deer Camp at Uncle John's. We already have 8 deer, not bad for a group of 10! My Cousin Leslie shot her first and second deer ever. I bagged a small 3 point buck on Saturday morning at 8 am.

I brewed a LOT of beer for Deer Camp. We have Big Buck Pale Ale, Wheat Treat, and Teddy's alcopop. The alcopop is a big hit! It's a malt beverage without hops for the cousins that don't like beer. We mix it with powdered drink mix and sugar for a sweet flavored treat. The favorite flavor so far is the fruit punch, but we have grape, orange and cherry to try out too. The lemonade is just not so good.

Sitting on stand for hours at a time is a great place to practice yoga. Deer hunting is so much like yoga. You must be still. You must be aware of sensation (sight, sound, smell). With time and focus, you can become aware of feelings about who you are. The best part, I have 6 more days of this!

New Blog

I added a new blog this week, Greta the Cat, to keep track of little Greta as I am out of town for about 6 weeks. The blog is to organize visitors to come over and keep her company. I think she will do fine. I need to get busy packing!