Clean Your Brain.
Waking up this morning disrupted one of the more interesting dreams that I’ve had of late. In this dream, which mixed generations of people who had never met in real life, Tipper and I were going to the movies on a Sunday afternoon. Tipper was seeing an animated film about a futuristic robot. I was watching a biopic about a composer, with the added benefit of a seminar with said composer following the film. Anchoring the mall in which the movies were being shown was a massive library, which really isn’t a bad idea, in my opinion. My dream never showed either film, but both had a somewhat disturbing thread connecting them: Communism.
The composer, whose name I don’t remember, was famously autistic and legitimately didn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion of him. Divorced several times, he was known to pick up his paper and pens and disappear, not telling anyone where he was for weeks at a time. The color of ink he used on his manuscripts varied from day to day: green, blue, red, black, and orange. There was no particular reason for his choice of color beyond how he was feeling on a given day.
Among those seated around me at long banquet tables were composers from earlier times in my life, not necessarily Communist composers, but still influential to my education. Nancy Hill Cobb. Alan Bush. Dmitry Kabelevsky. We all chatted as if we’d been long-time friends, which is possible only in dreamland. Dr. Cobb was the only one in the group I’ve known in real life, and I’ve not seen her in over 40 years. Conversations swirled around problems such as uncooperative conductors, lack of respect or interest on the part of audiences, and the seeming futility of attempting to educate a new generation.
The cats woke me before I ‘saw’ the movie. I looked out the window to a yard just as full of snow this morning as it was Tuesday morning. Once again, an arctic blast is forecasted to send temps below 0 by Wednesday morning. A sad fact is that I don’t think anyone is living especially comfortably at the moment. Either one is cold and roads are slick, or one’s house is on fire. The fact that insurance companies dropped fire coverage on thousands of California homes just before the fires began magnifies just how incompetent late-stage capitalism is in addressing the needs of people. There is no ‘up’ side to this past week.
What we did learn this week is that our brains clean themselves while we sleep. The good news is that you don’t have to be in deep REM sleep for this to happen. In fact, the good stuff happens outside of REM areas. The bad news is that sleep-inducing drugs such as Ambien inhibit the brain’s ability to flush out the day’s toxins. I’m taking this to mean that I must have one of the cleanest brains on the planet, or that the toxicity level of my brain is so severe that frequent naps are necessary to keep the damn thing operating. I suppose it’s possible that both are true.
My next question, one not answered in this study, is to what degree, if any, the pulsating cleaning movement affects our dreams. How are our minds getting any rest if our brains are spending our sleep time scrubbing away the bad stuff? Perhaps this might explain how it is possible to sleep all night and still wake up feeling tired. That’s probably not the case, but it’s one of the many questions I’d love for science to answer.
The dogs don’t seem to be in any hurry to go outside this morning. Despite the cats demanding that I wake up and get moving, the pups still haven’t asked to go out. In fact, Hamilton is lying here snoring rather hard. I’m a little jealous. Sleeping sounds like a very good way to spend the day.
Along with finishing this pot of coffee.
Saturday Morning Update: 11/09/2024
Look at this morning’s picture. Normally, they don’t have much, if anything, to do with whatever I’m talking about. This morning is different. I’ve decided to do something controversial and wear a safety pin. Not a small one, mind you. I ordered the largest one I could find. I’m not hiding it under a collar, either. It’s right there on the front of my shirt where everyone can see it. Yeah, I’m aware of all the backlash. If you doubt my solidarity with women, immigrants, and the entire LGBBTQIA+ community, try me. I may be small and weak, but goddammit, the head of my cane alone is enough of a weapon to render someone senseless and I’m not the least bit afraid to use it. You won’t be the first time I’ve had to stand up for someone. I have five of these huge pins because I have a bad habit of losing things. I’ll wear them until I know that everyone is safe.
There may be further additions and changes to my attire and attitude as well. I am beyond disturbed that at least four of the people closest to me are now at high risk, not only from the coming policies of a deranged and horrible president but more likely from those who put him there. Policies don’t hurt nearly as many people as do actions and we’ve already seen those actions in place. The Orange Felon isn’t going to show up at my daughter’s school and directly threaten her safety. Students indoctrinated by his rhetoric may, though. We’re fortunate that our kids go to schools that protect them against aggressive behavior. There’s still the bus ride there and back, though. No one’s protecting them there. If I have to start riding the damn bus to keep them safe, I will.
Of course, there’s also the danger that I’m apparently losing my fucking mind. My dreams have been unusually lucid of late, but they went over the top this morning around 2:30 when a dream was interrupted by what I thought was a young woman standing at the side of my bed. She had shoulder-length brown hair, was wearing a simple dark blue dress, and smiled as she said, “Hello.” That’s what caused me to sit straight up in bed. I heard her. I rubbed my eyes and she was gone. I looked around the room, Both dogs were still sound asleep. Cats had draped themselves here and there, none of them appearing to be disturbed. But, I heard her! Her voice was pleasantly sweet, just loud enough to wake me from my dream. Since when does a dream wake one from another dream? Am I hallucinating again? I thought we had cured that problem by changing chemo meds two years ago. I really don’t want to return to a state where I can’t trust what I think I’m seeing. I closed my eyes and immediately went back to sleep. Who does that?
Then, because once a day is tainted it stays that way, as I was sitting down to read this morning’s news, I heard a horrifying crash coming from the kitchen. I knew before I left my chair that the cats had knocked something off the counter. What I didn’t expect was the complete explosion of porcelain across the entire kitchen floor and even into the living room. Fortunately, I was still wearing boots from having taken the dogs out earlier. I grabbed the broom and dustpan and started sweeping. I’ve warned the kids that I’m still not sure I got all the little pieces of porcelain.
As I sat back down in my chair, Hamilton, who is the closest thing I have to an emotional support animal, started pawing at my arm. I assumed he wanted some attention and pets. Typically, I can pet him for a couple of minutes and he’s cool. Not this morning. I started petting him and he put his paws on my shoulder and pulled. Not expecting this behavior, I was rather slow in getting the message. He wanted me to lie down and he didn’t stop pestering me until I gave in. I lay next to him on the bed and checked the health monitors on my watch. My oxygen was below 90 and my heart rate was 137. I stayed put and cuddled with Ham until the numbers were better. This is why we’re running late this morning.
Kat didn’t have a good day yesterday, either. Her original plan had been to take G to his shadow day, then he would join her at the salon. They never made it to the salon. After dropping off G, Kat went to her mom’s and slept on her couch until it was time to pick him up. Then, they came home, and she chilled in her big chair until Tipper got home. I don’t know if she’s going to even try going to the salon today. I’m hoping she just goes on up to Fishers and stays there for the weekend. Her recovery is going to go slowly and I don’t want anyone rushing her.
Amidst all this, I must say that the kids are doing well. They were both up before I was this morning. They’re each busy doing their own thing. I have projects for both of them later in the day, but they can have the morning to themselves. They’ve definitely earned it.
Saturday morning is normally my science catch-up time and there’s a lot to read this morning, most of it concerned about continued funding. One of the top stories this morning is How much power do Trump and Kennedy have to reshape health agencies? Throughout the campaign, scientists have sounded the alarm that science funding and agencies are at risk. Of course, no one listened. Why would the people who deny climate change and question the validity of vaccines suddenly start paying attention to what the scientists are saying? [sarcasm]. Supposedly, Kennedy is vetting the resumes of those who might head various health and science concerns. That could definitely shape the future of those agencies. However, there’s no shortage of concern that the National Institute of Health is in for a major shakeup.
However, the new Republican administration isn’t the only threat to the science world. Russia has postponed three major science projects. In Greece, warming water temperatures completely wiped out this year’s mussel harvest. In fact, over the course of the week, I’ve seen reports of cutbacks of various kinds on every continent except Antarctica. As nationalism and right-wing fanaticism grow across the world, so does distrust and dismissal of established science.
This is concerning for any number of reasons. For example, there’s considerable concern that infections of H5N1, or “cow flu,” are going undetected. What are the odds of the world having another pandemic during the next four years? Much tighter than anyone cares to admit on the record. Best advice: wash your hands frequently and keep those masks close.
Health isn’t the only concern, though. In Botswana, there’s research actively taking place that may show that the whole fucking continent of Africa is about to split. The repercussions of such an event would change everything from tidal flows to the movement of the jet stream around the world. Entire weather patterns would be affected. And there’s not a damn thing anyone can do to stop it from happening.
Look, I can’t predict the future any more than anyone else. We’ve all seen the plan this administration has for us, though. The number of people it puts at risk is horrifying. These aren’t just abstract numbers on a page. These policies affect real people, you and your neighbors, and millions of lives are going to be destroyed if we don’t act. This isn’t the time to be a pacifist. Loving your neighbor doesn’t stop them from being an asshole. From where I sit, we have no choice but to be unusually aggressive in our response to everything this new administration does.
As I’ve been typing, I’ve been listening to an old Deutsche Grammophon recording of Vladimir Horowitz at the piano. His complete mastery and domination over even the most tender and careful of pieces is precisely the kind of mood we need to foster right now. No note gets away, nothing skipped.
Hamilton is pawing at me again. I need to eat breakfast and take my meds. I’m not well. I’m not strong. But you are always safe here.
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