Mid-morning. You are reluctant to be on the keyboard this morning because you think nothing good will come from it. What arrogance to think any good at all would come from any of it, boy. Where is your head?
It is a figure of speech, Amorella. Nothing begets nothing. I am reluctant – I was thinking of the early dream I had before awakening. More of the same when I have such dreams, which are not often. I have my email to check and exercises to do. I missed them yesterday because of the blood tests. When I did them after the previous blood test my left arm developed a patch of black and blue about the size of a tangerine at the site.
1159 hours. I completed 40 minutes of modified aerobics while listening to Pop in the 80’s.
That’s it? Amorella [Why did you write Amazon rather than Amorella?]
I don’t know. I deleted and corrected it immediately. I have never done that before. I was thinking about that dream this morning and I don’t want to think about it because I don’t want to go over it.
What were you planning to dream about?
I was reading USA Today online about a relatively new app called Sigmund – an app that lets you set up your own dreams. It is only 99 cents so I tried it – I punched in “passion-love-writer” to see what would happen and the only dream I remember is the last one and the setting is similar to others I have had since I was in adolescence at least. Heavy storm-set ocean waves, tornado clouds lined up one after another train car like – with no high winds. Very odd, I had not remembered that until now.
I was safe in a house but the waves were right outside and the coal black tornado funnel clouds turned upside down and hovered just above the beach and took the shape of dragons almost to the point they appeared a children’s toys in a tub rather than the menace they really were. Indian Hill High School property was to the north, the storms out of the west, nothing south and east in the dream scene. I waited and observed what was going on outside – some students were shouting out from the north but not to or at me – they were playing some sort of sport – soccer perhaps. Those black funnel clouds turning upside down almost touching the heavy waters and waves – they slowly edged towards the house until they (trains of dragon clouds) sat almost on the beach – I could not see the heavy waves behind them – but as they swirled in the air they did not move the sand on the beach.
Then, as I thought the coal-like black was going to lift the roof off the small one level 60’s modern house I woke up. Shoot, there was nothing about passion-love-writer in that dream. I’m still curious though; I’ll try it again tonight. The app listens for how you sleep then supposedly it whispers “passion, love, writer” or whatever you program from the list to induce a particular setting for a dream. The app states it is entertainment, but for a buck I thought I would see what it would do.
Yet, here I am. I could induce a dream too, you want a dream and I’ll give you one beyond writing in the blog and books. – Amorella
No, thank you. Amorella. That’s even too scary to think about.
But, alas, now you are. Post. – Amorella
You are really too funny, Amorella.
As the sarcasm slowly oozes out of you, boy. – Amorella
1349 hours. Although it may sprinkle in a few minutes it is rather pleasant sitting on the deck with trees and foliage to my west and north and smell the many white flowers on the honeysuckle bushes. Alas, here comes the rain.
1654 hours. I am very excited – I just purchased an app “Wikipedia Offline” and the English language download has begun. No pictures or charts, but otherwise it is all there – ten dollars for the app. The reviews for the new updated release are not out as this is the first day but earlier reviews for the Mac and iPad have been good. I tried to find a downloadable version of Encyclopedia Britannica but no luck. Besides, the app has the work compressed into three to four gigabits. I have no idea how that works. I hope it works well, that it suits my needs.
I see you have seven hours and forty-seven minutes of download to go. Wikipedia has been mostly fine for your uses and you can always recheck a fact online from another source when in doubt. The app is not a necessity though – mostly you like the idea of having the access to a tremendous amount of knowledge at your fingertips anytime, anywhere; and, you can update it if need be as you have OS Lion.
I need to be working on scene ten – to see what’s up between Merlyn and Gloama – uh, maybe that’s Sophia.
Sophia is she and Merlyn is he. Gloama, if you remember from the conclusion of book three – is moving on (at least now, in Earth’s present common years, the twenty-first century). Post. - Amorella
2132 hours. I have completed the first draft of the introduction into scene 10, chapter 8, book 4:
Scene 10 (draft 1)
Sophia’s mind wandered from the continuing construction of the bridge to the character of the four closest to her in this slowly maturing situation (as she likes to call it). Her heart feels circumstance is the truer word here, thus a minor irritating conflict. Sophia muses, ‘our small grove of five may be in a situation but the greater surrounding forest is the circumstance in which I see a looming disaster.’
Salamon, Thales, Mario, Kassandra and I are stretching our limbs looking for light, for growth, for a sun worth reaching. What is the reality of that light? Living, we had a necessary light and its younger sibling nurturing the night sky. Here, we have a dim copy of the lesser one for who knows what? Counting our moonths? For all I know the mirror of the Dead sets its round construction as we statue ourselves in sleep. This moon above is the same moon as it is with the Living who exist somewhere on the other side of the great River Styx. Legends tell us stories mixed with fancy and truth and who are we to know the difference? The Living don’t know. We, the Dead, should know something more than our being here. How can we know this though without knowing more than our personal situation? By what circumstance are we Dead here? I have an understanding of self, but that is not knowing one’s self; and, it is not growing either. We have no sun to nurture us so we must demand our own growth. We have no choice but to demand, and by Zeus we are no more than stalks of grain that have no choice but to grow, we did Living, and we must Living, still a mirage of our physical selves yet what is most important is still intact – heartansoulanmind – surely it has boundaries we are not yet aware of. A secret whisper strained from Sophia’s soul, ‘being boundless is not an option’. The Dead must grow and learn what we can and share it with our descendants, the Living.
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