Dreams

[PB]

I dreamt I was at my favorite outdoor coffeeshop in Berkeley.  No one was wearing masks, except to order.  I was sitting with a friend, a car nut, who had just bought an older Porsche - the exact model with the exact options and color he'd spent months looking for.

One of the local hobos was standing in the street, a step off the sidewalk, over by the newspaper boxes.  Usually he stands there and twists metal wire into art objects, using the tops of the boxes sort of as a desktop.  Today he had a thin 3 foot long board, and was using it a sort of like a golf club to hit the little rocks, broken glass, and bits of metal one usually finds on the side of the street - blasting them across the street towards the campus.

My friend is very finicky about his car, worrying over every imperfection, no matter how slight.  Just as he mentioned the bum and said something about him not being as obnoxious as some of the others, the guy pivots and starts ''golfing'' the gravel across the street towards the other corner.  J's car, parked there is right in the line of fire.  I exclaim ''look he's hitting rocks towards you car''.  ''You're kidding'', says J.  ''I'm... not''.  J races over, and has a long talk with his favorite bum.

[anniem]

  I was in a dark house, pushing a push broom across a wooden floor.  I was doing a pretty good for awhile but then I started seeing some wet spots appear.  I pushed the broom some more and could see that there was definitely something wet on the floor.  I took a closer look and saw that it was blood.  I swept some more and turned up some fingers and toes.  I looked across the room and saw the dim shape of a body.  This isn't good, I thought to myself.  I went to the front door to look outside.  It was plenty dark out there but I could see a lit room in a house across the street.  Policemen were in there searching for something.  As I watched, some of the police were crossing the street, headed my way.  I stepped back inside and looked at the floor and my blood stained broom.  Now what? I wondered. 
  I heard some shouting outside and walked back to the front door.  The policemen were shouting at me, but I couldn't understand what they were saying.  I saw a light switch to the left and flicked it but the porch light wouldn't come on.  I tried one to the right and it didn't work either.  The policemen were shouting louder and I had a thought that they were thinking that I was reaching for a weapon so I raised my arms and fell to my knees.
  "Huuugah maranaguhhh!" they shouted meaninglessly.  "It's OK, I'm not a threat!" I shouted to them.  "Whhhafumudoowah gretch!"  they shouted back.  They drew closer with their guns aimed at me.
  This just isn't working, I thought to myself.  All I could think to do was point at my ears and then a give a palms up signal.  Thankfully, a policeman spoke and he made sense.  "Are you hard of hearing?" he asked.  I nodded yes.  He walked inside, took a look at all the carnage and then walked back out.  "He's been here," he told his fellow officers.  "But he's not here now.  Probably in another house."
  I was very happy to hear him say that.  I walked into the house and looked around for my coat.  I wanted to join them in the hunt.

WOW!
I shall no longer sweep the floor as blood and digits might appear.

[anniem]

Huuugah maranaguhhh!

Whhhafumudoowah gretch!

[anniem]

I dreamt I was at my favorite outdoor coffeeshop in Berkeley.  No one was wearing masks, except to order.  I was sitting with a friend, a car nut, who had just bought an older Porsche - the exact model with the exact options and color he'd spent months looking for.

One of the local hobos was standing in the street, a step off the sidewalk, over by the newspaper boxes.  Usually he stands there and twists metal wire into art objects, using the tops of the boxes sort of as a desktop.  Today he had a thin 3 foot long board, and was using it a sort of like a golf club to hit the little rocks, broken glass, and bits of metal one usually finds on the side of the street - blasting them across the street towards the campus.

My friend is very finicky about his car, worrying over every imperfection, no matter how slight.  Just as he mentioned the bum and said something about him not being as obnoxious as some of the others, the guy pivots and starts ''golfing'' the gravel across the street towards the other corner.  J's car, parked there is right in the line of fire.  I exclaim ''look he's hitting rocks towards you car''.  ''You're kidding'', says J.  ''I'm... not''.  J races over, and has a long talk with his favorite bum.

I hear the hobums are getting very aggressive in some parts.

[PolkaDot]

WOW!
I shall no longer sweep the floor as blood and digits might appear.

Better safe than sorry. 

[PB]

I hear the hobums are getting very aggressive in some parts.

I lied, it wasn't a dream. 

Funny thing about the hobos, they never bother me.  Well, except for the one I punched on Telegraph Ave that time. 

I look big and strong, and I put on the game face when I see one up ahead.  If you look close, these people are very unhealthy, which means weak, they look like a strong wind will blow them over.  Go bother somebody else.

[PolkaDot]

This reminds me of a story my Grandmother always told me. She grew up in a Railroad town so there would always be migrant hobos coming through. She said even when your husband (or if you didn't have a husband) was at work you should leave a man's hat at the door so it could be seen. It signaled that there was a man of the house and he was home. This apparently made hobos more hesitant to knock on your door to ask for food.

[PB]

[Rikki Gins]

This reminds me of a story my Grandmother always told me. She grew up in a Railroad town so there would always be migrant hobos coming through. She said even when your husband (or if you didn't have a husband) was at work you should leave a man's hat at the door so it could be seen. It signaled that there was a man of the house and he was home. This apparently made hobos more hesitant to knock on your door to ask for food.

The first hobos had a wide network of signs and markings that warned fellow hobos of what might await them in a certain town or house.  At first I thought that hobos came about from the Depression but apparently they have been around for as long as there have been railroads.
https://www.logodesignlove.com/hobo-signs-and-symbols

[PolkaDot]

The first hobos had a wide network of signs and markings that warned fellow hobos of what might await them in a certain town or house.  At first I thought that hobos came about from the Depression but apparently they have been around for as long as there have been railroads.
https://www.logodesignlove.com/hobo-signs-and-symbols

@SpookPumpkin - the sign for "kind lady" is a cat. 

[Spookcat]

@SpookPumpkin - the sign for "kind lady" is a cat. 

😸

[Robert]

At first I thought that hobos came about from the Depression but apparently they have been around for as long as there have been railroads.

The ones by that name have been around only that long -- actually a little less -- but itinerant workers go back centuries to the first loosening of the feudal system.

Out in the fields there were benefits in terms of specialized goods and services to be had by division of labor, but no easy way to take advantage of them.  Someone who had a special skill and/or could produce specialized goods had just a little demand for hir product or service.  If farmers benefited from a labor-saving flapdoodle that they could use frequently but would last for many years, to make a living making them would require a great many customers.  Before urbanization, these customers were spread over an enormous area.  So all you could do would be to walk from one to the next, bartering for sustenance, and carrying the tools for the making of flapdoodles.  Still, it was enough of a business to make peddling a living.

[Rikki Gins]

I fell asleep with politics on my mind last night and low and behold I found myself holding a picture of the love of my life, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  The picture began to grow in size in my hands so I dropped it just in time because there, standing before me, was the full sized, living, breathing Xandria, (as she likes me to call her.)   First thing I did was ask her about the presidential race and she told me, "Biden 26, Trump 21." 
"Well that's good, right?"  I asked.  She didn't answer but a look of consternation crossed her beautiful face.  I cheered her up though, when I told her that she was going to be the first female president in four more years.  Then I woke up. 

[ShayP]

I fell asleep with politics on my mind last night and low and behold I found myself holding a picture of the love of my life, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.  The picture began to grow in size in my hands so I dropped it just in time because there, standing before me, was the full sized, living, breathing Xandria, (as she likes me to call her.)   First thing I did was ask her about the presidential race and she told me, "Biden 26, Trump 21." 
"Well that's good, right?"  I asked.  She didn't answer but a look of consternation crossed her beautiful face.  I cheered her up though, when I told her that she was going to be the first female president in four more years.  Then I woke up.

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[Rikki Gins]

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Ugly, but LOL!