26apr2016.tue

They entered our community, seen by most residents. I went from scared to relieved as the military arrived, soldiers with AK47's took positions in and around every building. But nothing happened. Not only were the aliens not attacking, it was if they weren't even there.
The soldiers then left!!! "But they're here!"I said, "They're hiding!!" I was ignored. I accosted the last soldier on his way out saying "They're still here-"
"Then where are they?" he asked without caring.
"Regaining their element of surprise. YOU KNOW THAT TACTIC-!!!"
He shrugged his shoulders, muttering "they're just a bunch of dumb animals..." and he was gone.
I looked around, feeling sick. My wife came up to me with a smile on her face, holding a stack of old vinyl records. "I found my old albums! Here!"
"But you're deaf!" I said. (which is true. She lost her hearing from an impact injury before we met, and her mother subsequently dumped all her LPs and cassette tapes in the garbage)
"They're for you, silly!" she laughed.
I walked off, disgusted and full of the same feelings of anxiety I normally feel when awake. I opened the trunk of our car, looking for a weapon. I eventually found one on the ground, a .45 caliber that one of the soldiers apparently dropped and left behind.
     Because of my neuromuscular atrophy I have great difficulty pulling the trigger of any handgun, needing both fingers to squeeze of a shot. That's in real life and in my dream. Besides, I doubted it would have any stopping power against their exoskeletons.
     That's how the dream ended, endlessly fidgety, anxiety ridden as we proceeded with our normal routines with gun in hand.

A lengthy, drawn out dream that, imho, would make for a decent indie movie. Maybe I should rewrite it as a script? I'll do so as a short story.

This morning I sat in meditation in the city park, enjoying the cool air as I watched small fish in the stream. Soon a large, angry man walked over to me, telling me to leave. Because he was a homeless person with no authority to issue such an order, I stayed. He said this place doesn't belong to me. I calmly informed him this park belongs to everyone. After repeating his demand I asked him for the real reason he wanted me to vacate. He pointed to the stand of trees behind us, telling me he lives here. "Ah, so it's privacy you wish to have..." I said, then proceeded to rise, brush my pants off, and rode my bicycle away about 30 meters down toward the shade of another tree. This place was safer, out in the open, more ideal for me to sit. Soon another man approached me from behind, filthy, bleary-eyed, muttering, calling me a "smart-ass". I stayed silent while keeping my eyes on his shadow beside me as he stood still. Soon I stretched my legs as he repeated the nonsensical accusation, got up and mounted my bike, wished him a good day and started pedaling. I ignored the kick he delivered to my rear tire.

I knew I was risking my safety by not fleeing immediately, but as neither one had any weapon to brandish, and I'm able to scream at loud volume to the two park employees a short distance away, I chose to move at my own pace rather than give them the satisfaction of obeying their wishes.

It seems odd that there was no anxiety resulting from these two random confrontations. I didn't feel upset at all throughout the day. Odd, because I often do suffer anxiety and stress several times each week, apparently for no reason. But these incidences did not upset me at all whatsoever. I suppose it helps to assume that any homeless person suffers greatly at having lost everything. Adding to that they are punished relentlessly by society for having done so. That the woods was his only home incited the first man to order me to leave, and the second may have mistaken me for someone else. Maybe, whatever. Being judgemental on my part would not only be inappropriate but also self-harmful, as I would've experienced anger, eventually becoming anxiety.

A realistic, unfiltered view of humanity unclouded by our personal issues is healthy indeed.

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