The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud: A Story – Daniel Stern

I still dream – problem is I don’t remember them as I once did. My mind is doing a fine job sorting itself out without using space to allow recording to happen and having me remember.

M dreams quite often, and when she does, she’ll tell me about them. She skips filling me in on the sexual dreams –she has them – we all do (right?) and as expected, she has mother dreams all leading back to anxiety, and she has dreams of her parents – which weigh heavily on her mind because of her distance from them and the guilt associated with that distance.

I wonder what I dream of.

Lady of Spain – Robert Taylor Jr.

One of the myriad of worries that causes a few sleepless moments is the thought of mental illness striking down on a loved one. I have this vision of a dark cloud descending down on them and their whole mental being is altered from what was the person I loved into a being that is completely unrecognizable. I leave for work in the morning and come home to a stranger occupying my wife’s mind.


I would be fortunate to see it hit them like that because I feel that if it were to happen, it seems that the pattern it follows is that it will sneak up slowly and I will miss early signs – either through the blindness of my unconditional love or because as that time can hide mounting trouble.


My failure to recognize it in them…but what if it hits me, and I don’t see it? Can one see it alone or does it have to be pointed out to them?


It took some time before my father accepted what we were telling him concerning his failing memory.


He did what I will probably do. Deny it, fight it – until…there it is, right in your face.


Yes, I am becoming more concerned about what lies ahead for me and what could be my descent into lost memories.


I suppose that it’s good to create the memories while I can remember them. I can enjoy them while I have that ability. To share with M and W in a few years when I can say: “Hey man…when you were 16 months old do you know what you did?” When and if the disease hits me, perhaps I won’t notice that there was a certain memory I once had about something. It’ll just be wiped clean. No fragmentary parts of a scene distorted and jumbled. If I can’t remember the memory then it’ll be like it never happened…right?

The Other Miller – Tobias Wolff

I’ve written here several times about my struggles in identifying whether or not I consider myself a writer – will ever consider myself a writer or if I will ever even write – at least something more than what I push out here.

I picked up a great little book from work (Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon) that has given me some great tips for improving this space as well as possibly helping me decide on the whole “writer” thing above.

In addition to the many purposes that this project is serving, one that I didn’t readily pick up upon until reading Kleon is that I believe that this space provides a nice platform to study my favorite authors. If one were to analyze post length on an author or a particular story, you would see that Gardner, Oates, Updike, Carver and Wolff all receive much more attention than others. If I were to narrow that list even further, I’d say that Oates, Gardner and Updike are my top three.

A writer that I have included in my top five that I intend to apply my microscope to is Tobias Wolff. There are a couple collections of his shorts that look well worth purchasing.

My attraction to him? Not sure yet. Just one of those writers I really enjoy. I enjoy listening to him talk as well. I suppose I can say that about all five of my favorite authors. Carver’s smoke battered throat, Updike’s excess spittle slipping through the small spaces in his teeth, Oates’ sing-songy sentences and Gardner…well, his voice surprised me – it was nasally and higher pitched than I imagined.

Perhaps I am reaching out to Wolff through some of our shared education. Military school during developmental years leaves a lasting impression that colors and enormous parts of your life years after leaving it.

So – The Other Miller.

A decent little story. I don’t know if I’d call the ending contrived but…yeah, it wasn’t hard to see it coming.

There is a scene towards the end of the story where Miller is waiting for two other soldiers as they have their fortune told by a gypsy. It’s a period where Miller has the chance to think back on his life – specific points and how they solidify his view of the future – his future. It’s a space where he is alone and with his thoughts. He is moving forward in time in silence – something that is lacking in this world.

Quiet thinking. Doing nothing. I need to do more of that. My head is too full of noise; I always feel the need to have something being fed into it. Simple quiet pondering is missing.

So, in a way nothing is what is missing.

How I Found My Brother - Charles Baxter

This is my third encounter with Baxter. First was in March of 2010 with “Harmony of the World”, then in April of 2011, with “Gryphon”.

This story didn’t really hit me as the other two did. I’m fine with that; I can’t expect to enjoy every single story.

This story is one of those that allowed me to venture into the “what if” of my life. Specifically, what if I had another sibling out there in the world.

If the brother or sister ever made contact with me, how would I feel? What would I do?

On first thought, from this chair, I think that upon discovering this new sibling, I’d be pretty pissed. I doubt that it’d matter if the parent of this sibling was my mother or father, I’d be equally upset with both of them.

Then, I think that some of the anger might be tempered with discovering what this sibling was like. It wouldn’t be fair to be upset with them. They were born…they didn’t have a choice in the matter.

Which brings me to my next set of thoughts stirred by thinking about this story.

Choice, fault, patience, pace and priority.

It’s funny where these stories can lead you. Honestly, I was a bit worried a few posts ago about running out of commentary or thoughts after reading. I think I was just out of practice.

Work has been keeping me pretty busy lately and I feel that I haven’t been firing on all cylinders 100% of the time.

There has been a cloud in my head…a fog that I’ve had trouble seeing though – not hazy enough to cause too much concern but noticeable enough that I can remark on it. Noticeable enough that I feel conscious actions could be taken to clear it away.

I believe I need to create a bit of a better pace in my life…slow down a bit, have more patience with myself and family, assign priorities in both my work and home life, choose what is really important and finally, stop looking for fault in others and myself.

And the first step of that is to be aware of my consciousness throughout my waking hours. I need to be in the moment. Not in the past, not consumed by the future. I need to settle down with the time that I am living in at that instant.

Easier said than done.

The awareness of this lack of awareness is a step in the right direction and I believe that it will allow me to work on the five points outlined above.