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| Who remembers Kintai-kyou?
...and Two Dogs on the shores down from Nishiki-chou?
Few of us made it to that little town,
but many enjoyed the river that, from thence, was bound.
We'd sit by its side with stogies in hand
and revel of our adventures in the distant land
where we harvested experiences like grain from the chaff,
and shared them at the bridge -- how we did laugh.
Hornsby's or Two Dogs, along with a cigar...
those were the days...more memorable by far
than any since then, or any gone before
and yet those days are past, too: now nostalgia and lore.
Oh, to return to Iwakuni
and the banks of the river Nishiki...
To sit with those comrades that I did know
on the banks of the river at Kintai-kyou
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| In regard to the title of Oct. 14's post and the usage of the 'word' "dem", I'll be interested to know who can identify the source of the following quote:
He kept on saying to himself, "A dem fine woman, sir, a dem fine woman. A superb creature."
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| I alluded to some dreams a week or so ago here, and have failed to expound on its details. I have, to my surprise, been asked about it by a few folks, though, so here 'goes.
Pretty sure it was in the middle of the first week I was down here in TX, which is where I'm doing the 4-week training for my new job with the FSIS (meat inspection). When the training's over, I'll be headed back to KS.
In the dream, I was Jean Luc Picard (of Star Trek: The Next Generation, for those who may be a bit rusty on their sci-fi), and was accompanied by the ship doctor and ship counselor. So we're already starting off might-bizarre, but that's just the beginning. We had had some sore of genetic engineering or cosmetic surgery done to make us look like the alien race we were about to visit...green skin and gill-looking slits on the sides of our faces as well as a few other bumps and oddities. The three of us were then in a lush forest in front of a deep stream. We dove in, swam deep and into an underwater cave/tunnel. Coming out the other side, we surfaced and climbed ashore, where we were greeted by the alien civilization (apparently well-hidden from the rest of the universe). That's pretty much it for the specifics of action in the dream.
Really, though, dreams are all about what they mean to the dreamer...the feelings and thoughts experienced and how they relate to current events or thoughts in one's life. For me, I see a lot of parallels with my current career-beginning with the FSIS. It involves a lot of changes for me on a personal and philosophical level, but the folks I'll be working with are friendly and good to get along with. As for the swimming, I'm told that water in dreams often symbolizes emotions or feelings. Thus, to me the underwater swim is related to my own feelings regarding the facets of myself that I tend not to express in this world where they are not appreciated (as I appreciate them).
That's the gist of it, though, for what it's worth. As with any dream, it means more to the dreamer than to other observers/readers. But if nothing else, you're welcome to chuckle that I dreamed myself as a Star Trek captain. I'm certainly chuckling. :)
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| Nothing like a fine cigar to add just a touch of buzz and metaphysical awareness. Follow it up with a few sips of merlot and the eve is pristine. I don't really feel like going to bed, which may be a problem for class tomorrow, but that's an issue for tomorrow to deal with.
I began compiling a playlist recently of the songs that have a tendency to incise into my chest and poke around at my heart. Those are the good ones, and tonight's Illusione-2 brought a few from the depths of my cognizance, returning them to the surface. I considered myself alone, sitting on a retaining wall a good distance from the hotel, until I heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the woods to my right. Likely it was a critter, but whatever it was, it was certainly unabashed. The foremost tune that came to mind was The Vagabond by Ralph Vaughn Williams -- one that I'd sung for contest back in high school. I've been considering the possibility of living the next year in an RV, and looking at it (somewhat longlingly) as a gypsy lifestyle. In truth, though, for me, I think "vagabond" is more fitting than "gypsy". Other songs that came to mind (for those who they may mean something to): "Sea Fever", and "Clorinda".
I do realize that I haven't expounded on the previous entry's dreams yet, but don't feel like combining that entry with this, so will put it off yet a bit more.
The Vagabond
by Robert Louis Stevenson
put to music by Ralph Vaughn Williams
Give to me the life I love,
Let the lave go by me,
Give the jolly heaven above
And the byway nigh me.
Bed in the bush with stars to see,
Bread I dip in the river -
There's the life for a man like me,
There's the life for ever.
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around
And the road before me.
Wealth I seek not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I seek, the heaven above
And the road below me.
Or let autumn fall on me
Where afield I linger,
Silencing the bird on tree,
Biting the blue finger.
White as meal the frosty field -
Warm the fireside haven -
Not to autumn will I yield,
Not to winter even!
Let the blow fall soon or late,
Let what will be o'er me;
Give the face of earth around,
And the road before me.
Wealth I ask not, hope nor love,
Nor a friend to know me;
All I ask, the heaven above
And the road below me. | | |
| The last few nights have been fertile for dreams, it seems. I've been working for the FSIS for nearly two weeks now, and have been down here in College Station, TX, for training this week (three more to go). I'll have to write more later about the dreams that have colored my slumber these last few nights. One -- bizarre as it may sound -- starred me as Jean Luc Picard, morphing into some alien visage along with two other crew members, and swimming through an underwater cave to make contact with an alien race. The images I awoke to yesterday morning have already faded away, but this morning images of Home Depot and returning to work there played in my mind while I slept.
Though more details will be forthcoming if I get a chance (and sharper memory) to flush out the finer points, I feel like my mind is very much working through my new career arrangements. I'm excited to be starting this job, and looking forward to a bit of job security for awhile, and a decent paycheck coming in. Nonetheless, I find it odd to find myself entering the world of meat inspection. I'm not vegetarian nor anti-meat by any means, but feel less societally mainstream in that regard than most of my colleagues here. That feeling is nothing new, but I'm wary still of "losing my soul" in the sense that the Riches (of TV's "The Riches") feared losing their souls by transitioning from their gypsy lifestyle to living under a roof.
Anyway, this is a very quick blurb since I've got to be getting ready to leave. It probably leaves some wrong impressions, but I needed to get the words down as a bookmark to myself to return here and elaborate on the dreams as well as what they have meant to me. Dreams are fun and do a much better job of illuminating one's mental status than trying to wrassal' the issues during waking hours.
A song that hit me as I was writing this -- quite a blast from the past:
Don't Let Your Heart Be Hardened by Petra http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lP_XNlt8Opk Psalm 95:7-8, Hebrews 3:13
Words and Music by Bob Hartman
[Chorus]
Don't let your heart be hardened - don't let your love grow cold
May it always stay so childlike - may it never grow too old
Don't let your heart be hardened - may you always know the cure
Keep it broken before Jesus; keep it thankful, meek, and pure
May it always feel compassion - may it beat as one with God's
May it never be contrary - may it never be at odds
May it always be forgiving - may it never know conceit
May it always be encouraged - may it never know defeat
May your heart be always open - never satisfied with right
May your filled with courage and be strengthened with all might
Let His love rain down upon you
Breaking up your fallow ground
Let it loosen all the binding
Till only tenderness is found | | |
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