The Wac-a-mole dissertation et al

Ups & downs

Two parts of my body are vying for my attention, my legs versus my brain.  I am sitting in a chair. "Time to stand", I tell myself and I start to rise.  When I am just about upright, my brain (or what's left of it) intervenes.  "Now you hold on there a second.  We have a problem.  I need more dopamine for all this to happen, SIT DOWN NOW."

I have no choice in the matter. I am unceremoniously pulled back into the chair by a force, one of my brain's henchmen, that has obviously been working out at the "force gym".  It is just too strong but I immediately try again, hoping to catch the force unawares,  The result is the same.

This madness is repeated after a third and fourth attempts.  Finally, I put down the books I was carrying, relax, sit up, spread my legs, bend forward and leading with my head, I move downward a pinch and then outward and upward.  Success.

Something tells me the next time won't be easier.  I will pop up and down, up and down, up and down, like in that circus game where you try to smack the rodent on its head when it pops up.  I keep expecting a metaphorical club at any moment.

Slip, Sliding Away

To change the topic,  I had a PD dream last night in which I found myself holding a tennis racquet (racket) inside a large mansion.  It had all the finery of a Downton Abbey.  Maybe it was Downton Abbey.  A woman appears.  She also has a racquet, but it has no strings;  She announces,"They are serving at the south entrance".

"You go on ahead. I have something to do."

In the next scene, I am lying in the supine position, cradling my racquet on my chest.  For some reason, I don't want the cat to see my precious racquet so I devise an evil plan.  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the cat sneaking up on me.  I will pretend to be dead and when it is close by , I will let out a howl and scare that cat back to the basement where it belongs.

The cat is about to climb on my chest so I jump up howling like a lone wolf.

"Wake up.  Wake up." My wife is stroking my arm.  It seems my howling woke her up.

Ah, those PD, virtual reality dreams, make no sense, but they are interesting to the dreamer.  Not so much to the dreamer's spouse.

A third topic, the American election

I make no comment but you should be aware of a caution from the great American satirist, H.L. Mencken, "On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart's desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron"