Sweet Dreams Inviolate



I had sweet dreams last night. Two of them. Happy dreams, that moved at an easy pace and traded in real possibility.

I can’t remember the last time that happened. Definitely that easy pace isn’t something I experience very often — whether asleep or waking. Even past “good dreams” — they often flash by, even in memory.

It felt good, having a couple dreams where I experienced real clarity, in a way I could appreciate. There was no rush — just that clarity. What I saw and felt, I understood.

I’m going to give this feeling one more moment — because why not.

It felt good.

Good can be enough, sometimes, without have to analyze anything, without having to break it down. So, let’s live by example, today, perhaps.

Have a good day.

profpic_squareMy name is Michael. I am a Writer and Filmmaker 
of hopeful stories for complex people. Lately, I have been sharing some reflections and stories every morning. Once per month, I send a special note to those on my email list. They get exclusive stories and advanced (sometimes free) access to my work. You can join this exclusive group here. Thanks for reading.

When There’s A Butt…But No Joke?



I dreamed that I was watching TV with a group of people. An awards show was on, a singer on stage.

She was mostly naked. I laughed and checked the room for some support incredulousness. No one seemed to also realize, or think it was very strange, that her back faced the camera, with her neck craned impossibly around, to allow her head to also face us.

Then I noticed a sort of cartoon face designed for and affixed to her butt. She started to sing, but mostly as if the singing were coming from the face on her butt. None of this appeared to be a joke.

I laughed again and wondered aloud if this is what it had come to — so many new things done for the sake of newness that someone actually thought singing from their butt was a “fresh idea”.

No one else in the room seemed to care. They left. One man remained behind, and argued a hollow point, which I easily refuted. Then he asked me to watch his web series.

I guess you could say that sometimes I feel like the only sane man in an insane world. This has been on my mind, recently.

Obviously, I know that’s not true. But it’s sometimes how I feel. I do not want to sing out of my butt unless it’s a clear joke (performed for people who get the joke)!

I wonder if people in LA have dreams like this a lot of the time.

It also occurs to me that I might need to do some thinking about picking my spots and reading rooms. Sometimes it’s better to reserve energy for later, for the right time and place. To just let the butt sing and let people enjoy it and wait or work for a better moment to comment upon.

profpic_squareMy name is Michael. I am a Writer and Filmmaker
of hopeful stories for complex people. Lately, I have been sharing some reflections and stories every morning. Once per month, I send a special note to those on my email list. They get exclusive stories and advanced (sometimes free) access to my work. You can join this exclusive group here. Thanks for reading.



Legitimately Va-goo



Sometimes, to find what we didn’t know we were looking for, we need to stop searching.

Discovery can be tricky like that. We search and we search, we flail and thrash, or perhaps we give up and lament. And, in my experience, that last part is often when something clicks, or reveals itself.

More accurately, perhaps, it’s when we realize one of two things — 1) That the answer has been staring us in the face all along, and is different than what we ever might have imagined, or 2) The complete opposite occurs, and we’re left instead with new, more accurate question — that any given search can truly move forward.

If that sounds a bit vague, all I can say is that I’m feeling a bit vague. Legitimately VA-goo.

This is all right. It has to be all right. If I were to fight it the vagueness, I’d be acting against my better instincts. A more appropriate reaction would be to let go and listen, I think. 

I’m not sure what today will bring.

I don’t have anything particularly special planned. I don’t have any expectations, other than that certain daily routines are likely to become a part of this otherwise average weekday.

The sunrise this morning was beautiful. That’s not a va-goo observation. That’s specific, identifiable, ready to be absorbed and appreciated and held onto.

It’s been a great help these past weeks, waking up with the rising sun. Stopping by here, for a check-in. It feels right.

Speaking of discovery, last night I dreamed of finding a new door in my apartment, that I had never seen before. I opened it, without hesitation, and saw that it led to extra living space that I was excited to find.

The space was dusty, and in need of some repair. I stepped into it to explore, and soon the dream shifted, and I was in a new, transformed, spacious, open — but oddly modular — new version of my apartment.

The place felt familiar but different. There weren’t any enclosing walls, as far as I could tell. This made me uneasy but at the same time it felt right.

So I kept exploring.

This is part fourteen of a thirty day trial, during which I am writing and publishing a post every day. No refunds. Comments welcome and encouraged!

Day 01: Struggles and Wonders and Dying in  Chair

Day 02: Fear, Panic, Identity and Anti-Focus

Day 03: Purple Sky of Towering Clouds Over a Far-off City

Day 04: Circle Up and Laugh

Day 05: On The Future of Labor

Day 06: Appreciating Difficulty, Harnessing its Momentum

Day 07: The Word for World is Earth

Day 08: It’s About The Dreaming, Not The Dream

Day 09: Moments of Presence: CWC Interview (Writer Laura Goode)

Day 10: Simmering Little Wrath of The Annoyed Man

Day 11: Tragedy, Remembrance and Wonder

Day 12: A New Light Borrowed or Discovered

Day 13: Productivity Tips for Anyone Prone to Overwhelm (Like Me)

Purple Sky of Towering Clouds Over A Far-off City (Day 3 of 30)

This is part three of a thirty day trial, during which I am going to write and publish a post every day. No refunds. Comments welcome and encouraged.

Not purple but you get it.

I dreamed of a brilliant purple sky, full of towering clouds that surrounded a far-off city.

There was a magnificent gap in the clouds, a sort of amphitheater of thick, stubborn, brilliant white, buttressing the center of the city against overrun-by-purple.

Fireworks erupted, orange-white and everywhere at once, below the clouds but above the city, just as the sun sank with that impossible quickness lent to time by dream. I felt joy. Warmth.

All went dark.

Just before this brilliant display, I had been attempting to photograph the purple sky only, had been lamenting a glitch with my camera that had left so many shots of the sight un-captured. But at the urging of my wife beside me in my dream, I adjusted the camera and tried again.

And that’s when the real display of beauty, natural and manmade, shone through the world. After I thought I had missed it, but before I had given up.