A tale about prepping – with a large order of woo-woo this morning. Lots of background to the prepping point, as well – which is our agenda – plus a ton of woo-woo.
As long-term readers know, Elaine and I went with friends (Robin and Judy) to see Johnny Mathis at the “world’s largest casino” this weekend. Winstar in Thackerville, OK. Show was great and on Sunday morning, I cashed in a $507 chit and a $206 chit. In my odd approach to gambling, I go in with three or four hundred dollar bills and when they have been through the machines, I print the chit and walk away. One of the few gambling techniques that works: Find the high payout machines, then play until you get a statistical outlier, then cash out and walk away.
In the process, I figure we got gipped out of an hour of sleep by the hotel, though – what with the Daylight time changel. I don’t know why hotels don’t change check out to 11:30 for that one weekend a year when it time change works against the customer.
That’s the short version of the trip. With all the walking around the world’s biggest casino, I actually came home 2-pounds lighter than when I left. Which is something of a miracle given the high-end food. Saturday night, for example, was a filet (7 oz) with shrimp scampi. That’s after a warm-up on cold (massive) shrimp in a one-off sauce that is the best yet in my life. Going on 70, that’s one hell of a compliment. I’ve had shrimp all over the country and in a dozen foreign spots and this was amazing.
A Prepping Story from “The Realms”
From my birthday – in mid February – until sometime in May is my “hot time of the year” for dreaming. This is when I have amazing, and sometimes precognitive, dreams about the world. Things like detours while traveling – in advance. The Deepwater Horizon oil disaster – 18-hours in advance. And there was the strange case of the Melbourne bus accident.
Not all dreams are precognitive, but there is usually a message to them.
So “REAL” are these dreams that I often remark it’s like waking up in another life – living that for a while, and then reawakening on this side of the dream boundary. More sense of how it works in my novel DreamOver: A David Shannon Adventure. Which, I might add, is based on more than half a dozen such other-worldly dream-life adventures.
Now to this one:
In last night’s dream adventure, Elaine and I had gone to a capitol city which was on the coast to look around.
Directions tend to be 90-degrees off in my dreams (something usefully learnt from the Melbourne bus case), but I will give you the “sense” of direction as we go.
We parked the car just to the north and a few miles west of the downtown waterfront district. We walked downhill toward the water looking for…not sure what.
But, as we came to the waterfront of the city, we were amazed to see nuclear missiles being erected and readied for launch among the buildings. The buildings were not very tall. I’d say no more than five or six stories tall. And the missile warheads were distinctly built with large domes on the tops, not the “pointy end” type missiles.
We got the sense that time was running out. There would be nuclear war, but we didn’t know when, but soon. Like in the next few days.
Realizing this, we went into a myriad of building types, trying to find something that would be survivable.
In the upper part of the downtown area, there were a lot of two and three story buildings. But these were made in a very heavy way that would be blown over immediately in the vicinity of the target area.
We worked our way south, and up a number of rolling hills, stopping at one deli that looked promising.
A two story building, it was built stoutly and we figured it would survive. But it lacked the basement I was looking for. As we left through a side door, I noticed another door that opened into a chicken-raising area. Most strange.
Continuing up, and south, there were a number of old churches/religious buildings. these seemed to meet my search criteria; they had basements and they were heavily-built and all. But, on talking to a priest (who was in a side yard to the church rescuing a small dog with a broken leg) we began to understand that in the coming war, this building, too, would topple. And the heavy (dark granite) stones would be impossible to escape from.
So, we kept walking.
We stayed to what was emerging as a main highway that at one point went under a kind of earthen embankment. It was too short to be a tunnel, really, but the building (through which the road and pedestrian walkway went) was of huge timber construction.
The way it had be built seemed like a civil defense project in a sense: The heavy timbers had been set up as a massive frame and then tin roofing had been applied between the beams to keep dirt from drifting down into the traffic area below.
The whole thing couldn’t have been more than a block, or two, long. A few shops were inside. We kept walking, though, because there were no blast doors on the (capitol-facing) north side, from which we’d come.
What we did learn, though, was that if we walked a long ways further, there were some stock yards outside the city – about 20-miles on. Once past those, we learned there was a river we could follow inland.
The name of this river didn’t survive the transit back onto this side of The Realms but its name began with an O and there was a ch, an e, and and r in it best I can remember.
When we learned it was such a distance, we decided to return to the northwest part of the capitol city and try to find the car so we could make better time traveling.
As we came into the city again, Elaine walked east, down the hill into the most populated part, looking for a major road to left which would take us back to the northwest area where our vehicle was.
Neither one of us had bothered to note the “car” location when we departed on foot for the downtown area east (and down hill).
Now, there was a rising sense of urgency that we find our way quickly and get the hell out of there. It wouldn’t be long before the missiles flew and we wanted to be south of the stock yards and near the river before things went bad.
How does one analyze such a dream?
Much of it is a mish-mash of an old newsman’s brain. It’s likely the rounded nose-cone missiles were an archetype processor output of “Iron Dome.”
The layout of the capitol was more difficult. I don’t know of any where there are stockyards 20-miles from the city and a river beyond that going inland. Anyone with map ideas, please let me know. And remember from the Melbourne dream, which was 90-120 degrees counterclockwise on this side of the Realms, that I don’t know what my recent Cartesian ordinates are.
Language provides no insights, either. That is because in The Realms people communicate ideas directly. What we, as a species, are going through right now with iconography in computers is a start. We still “attach” verbose words to things (empty Recycle bin?) or “Find?:_____” but these are half-measures.
I get the sense that past high civilizations operated more in the “ideasphere” than present world inhabitants. Perhaps, in the intermarriage of the Neanderthals and the Cro Magnons with the Homo Sapiens, some of our native genius was bred out (deliberately so?) in order that the survival skills of more aggressive species, less thoughtful and reflective compared with Sapiens, could be integrated.
Or, perhaps the co-breeding was the result of animal needs to recover from one of the great planetary catastrophes… we will never know.
An “accidental detour” on our trip this weekend also figured into things.
Because of traffic, and picking the wrong lane, I ended up taking I30 east from Dallas a few miles. This put us on surface streets through southeast Dallas and I remember thinking how much the apartments and condos in this area looked like “chicken coups.”
Understand that while we live in a modest (wildly decorated and customized) mobile home, people who live in “coups” have a special problem: They are “captives of the City.”
I spent a few minutes while we were driving (back on the 635 West and taking the 175/Kaufman exit to head down our way) thinking about this notion of how and why large-scale civilian populations are in the (supposedly) “modern world” held hostage for geopolitical purposes.
Why do people put up with it?
Is it the money?
We happen to live in an area that is so dispersed and spread out that it’s almost unthinkable that anyone would waste a nuke on us. Rural and “independent living” mean much the same thing.
Yet, people in cities like Bremerton, Washington, Long Beach, Oakland, Honolulu, and so on, by simply choosing to live where they do, have essentially placed their “necks in the noose” of geopolitics.
And that, my friend, is (far as I can tell) the point of the dream.
In order for global geopolitical conflict to occur, all you need are targets of convenience. The Big Cities? They’ll do fine.
Back in the “dream port” (bed, this side of The Realms), Elaine and I talked about the holding of civilian populations hostage, as they are. “Why do people allow it?” she wondered.
Honestly, I didn’t have an answer. Maybe they just don’t see it. I mean, sure, I understand the reasons from past Ages. When cities sprang-forth at river junctions, where downstream travel was easy. I totally get that.
But, in an era where we’ll be upgrading our internet connection here in the Outback to 25 MB this week…why THEN do people allow themselves to be held hostage in geopolitics at the macro-level or higher sales taxes at the local level?
That’s our prepping ponder: People – when thinking of prepping – place far too much emphasis on “The Job.” They go “where the money is.” But is that the wisest choice?
My tromping around this (dreamscape) capitol in the midst of preparing for nuclear conflict with its entire population at risk, was deeply disturbing. It echoed off the “chicken coups” of we saw in suburban Dallas & Mesquite, Texas.
“This is a fulfilling life?” I kept asking myself? How do people in coups keep from going nuts? Where’s the meaning?
In a country with so much land, requiring only commitment and a vision, why haven’t huge population centers emptied out -dispersed- already? Is it the Urban Real Estate Mega-bubble?
Or, is it something about the BUZZ of a city that entrains people? The economic GLUE that hypnotizes people into trading their own self-determination for a comfort of living a life of the well-fed hostage?
Perhaps we need a word for it: Urbanosis: (n) “A state of unquestioning participation in a pseudo-life.”
Thus, countries of hostages, cities of hostages, all competing for more paper in order to…what, exactly?
Superficially, as a past master of the balance sheet – I once lived it. Not like we don’t grok the deal. Far from it.
Maybe it was the casino that set off the thought. People all looking for the same statistical outlier. Missing the Miracle Money Technique, just like chickens working over a handful of scratch tossed out by the farmer.
It’s nice to be back from the dream port, but some deep questions came with me this visit. And no simple answers.
Just damn tough questions about modern values, such as they are.
Write when you get rich,