MediocreMan

I Was Not Going to, but… · 7 December 2024

I suppose there are times when we think we are not going to do something then do it anyway. Times when we think, “I was not going to, but…” That was what happened with my story about dying in my dreams. I was not going to post the story, but then I decided that I would. Even if it is a bit morbid. Even if it seemed unlike me.

There are other times when I think that same thought. I am not going to do this or that or the other. Then, I decide that it is okay. It is okay to do this or that or the other. It might even be a good thing. Of course, there are many things that could fit into this category. I am not sure what they are, but I am sure I can think of something by the end of this blog post.

One of the things that I seem to do without being able to stop myself is saying stupid stuff. I was not going to correct somebody’s pronunciation of a word, but I decided to do it. I was not going to comment on this or that or the other, but I decided that I like the taste of my foot. I suppose those are the usual things. I wonder what it is? I suppose I just like the notion: Open mouth, insert foot.

At any rate.

I suppose there are other things that I was not going to do but decided to do anyway. Nothing drastic or earth shattering or anything like that. I was not going to start a weekly blog way back in 2007, but then I did. I have not regretted it, but I suppose there are others who wish I had regretted it or that I had never started it or that I would just get over it and stop already.

It is funny. That is one thought that I have not had since I began. I have never thought, I am going to stop blogging, but kept on anyway. It is not that I always love it. Sometimes it is a chore. But blogging is a way to hone my craft. It is a way to stay sharp. Even if my writing is not all that great. Even if I am still striving to be mediocre.

At any rate.

I was going to write a longer blog post, but I think this is about it. I am not sure there is much else to say. Except that I hope I did not shock any of my readers with my story about dying in your dreams. Or rather, of me dying in my dream. I know it is not a normal subject that I would tackle in my blog. But it was a vivid dream that I just had to write about. And even though I was not planning on sharing it, I could not come up with anything else that week. And I had told my dream to at least one other person. So why not.

Like I said, I was not going to post my story about dying in my dream, but in the end, I did. I do wonder what else I was not going to do but then did anyway. Hmm…

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More D.B. Cooper Stories? · 30 November 2024

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Aw c’mon. My D.B. Cooper story is just as plausible as the latest one. Maybe.

D.B. Cooper will just not go away. No matter that the case has been deactivated or put in storage or whatever the term is for not being closed but not being pursued. (Or maybe it is closed. I forget.) The latest story is that somebody on the F.B.I.’s short list of suspects had a parachute in his belongings. He was on their short list because he committed a similar crime a few weeks after the original Cooper hijacking for which he was arrested. (Sounds like a copycat to me.) Of course, he escaped from jail, presumably before he was interrogated about the D.B. Cooper hijacking, and killed in a shootout. So we will never really know whether he was the real D.B. Cooper or not. And so the story and legends continued.

If you have not heard, I have written a D.B. Cooper story. It is called D.B. Cooper and Me.

I was a young boy when Cooper hijacked the plane. I read many books on the subject. I was not obsessed, but I was curious. I asked the question: How could a person do what he did? I asked it in both a philosophical and logistical way. What is it in a man that could make him hijack a plane? And how could he have done it and disappeared with nary a trace?

All those years of thinking about the story as a kid made me come up with my own theories. Which, of course, led to a story. My own fictional story.

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Now, before I go much further, I must say that I do not believe my story. (Did I mention that it is fictional?) It is a fanciful story at best. But it does fit the evidence as far as I can see. Which is important. After all, a story must be believable. Especially if it based (even loosely) on facts. Facts that people know or can look up.

I must also say that I agree with the law enforcement community in saying that his was a heinous crime and the man is or was a criminal. Even so, I like to write stories with (spoiler alert) happy endings.

It has been a long time since Cooper hijacked the Boeing 727 (November 24, 1971), but his stories live on. To some, he is a great antihero. To others, he is just a criminal. To still others, he is a fictional character who is probably quite different from the real person. (That last one is my notion.)

I do not have any of the answers about D.B. Cooper, but I do have a story. And of course, you can read that story in my book D.B. Cooper and Me. It may or may not be any good. But I think it is at least as plausible as the latest story. Maybe.

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If You Die in Your Dream… · 23 November 2024

I have the answer to the question, “If you die in your dream, do you die in real life?” And (spoiler alert) the answer is definitely, “No.” At least I didn’t.

The question of dying in real life when you die in your dream is a strange and morbid question to be sure, but we have this strange fascination with death. I am sure part of the reason is that we wonder what happens after death. (Which is a question I am not going to delve into in this particular blog post. But it was a thought provoked by the first thought.) We also know that death is just a part of life. And I am sure there are many other reasons why we think about death.

Personally, I am not that fascinated with death, but I am glad that I now know the answer to the question about dying in your dream. At least I am sure for me.

The reason I know that you do not die in real life if you die in your dream is because I did not die in real life even though I died in my dream. No. I was not falling to my death and woke up during the fall. I actually died. And upon my death in my dream, I woke up.

You wonder, “What was said dream where you died?” I am so glad you asked.

I am not sure where I was. I just know that wherever I was, somebody said, “Watch out for the bear.” Or something like that. Which was when I saw a huge bear rushing down some hillside. Or maybe crashing down the hillside is more appropriate. This huge bear was knocking down whatever was in its path. And it was moving toward my right. I looked in the direction the bear was heading and saw a tent where I saw three people I love. I am not sure who they were, but I know that they were precious to me. Probably my three sons. But like I said, I am not sure who they were. I did see that the tent was down around their ankles. It must have been set up at one time, but the three were standing in terror wondering how to get away from the bears. I say bears because as I turned to look back at the bear coming down the hill, I saw at least one other bear going a different direction. These bears were grizzly bears or brown bears of some kind. And like I said, the bear coming down the hillside was huge. I turned back to the tent to try to save my three loved ones. I did not know what I was going to do, but I had to get there. I tried to run, but as in all my dreams (that I remember) I was running like I was running through molasses (as if anybody really knows what running through molasses actually feels like). I eventually got to the tent. I do not know why I did it, but I raised the tent above my head. I could not actually get the tent back up, but I was able to hold it above my head. I looked around to comfort my loved ones, but they were gone. I was left alone. At least my three loved ones were not in danger. They were safe. I actually lowered my hands so that the tent was draped over my head. That was when it happened. I felt and saw a huge bear tooth enter my right carotid artery. I knew I was dead, and I woke up.

It is interesting thinking about the dream. I know that the bear had to have been huge enough to enclose my whole head because of the angle that the tooth came into my neck. I also know that the bite ended my life because I woke up. Proof positive, right? Okay. So not quite proof positive, but pretty close. I mean the bear probably bit my head off rather than let my body exsanguinate in its mouth. Right? (By the way, I did not just want a reason to use the word “exsanguinate” in a sentence. I really do not think using “bleeding out” was an option.) Anyway. I do think that the bear had to have bitten my head off. Which means that I died in my dream. And since you are reading this, we all know that since I died in my dream and am alive in real life, the answer to the original question is “No.” We do not die in real life when we die in our dreams.

Now, before you argue with me that I did not really die in my dream, I want to point out the other questions that come up about dreams.

People think that dreams are messages from God. Or they think that they are visions of the future. Or they think that they are message from ourselves, messages of our fears or of our hopes and dreams. While I think these can all be true at one time or another, I do not think any of these are true about my particular dream. Jesus did not visit me saying to stay out of the woods. (Although I have decided not to run in the woods by myself, but that is a completely different story. And not a story about bears.) So while I do think that we can get different messages from different sources at different times from our dreams, I do not think that I was getting any messages from any source through this particular dream. Except the answer to the burning question.

Two last things about dying in your dreams.

I know that there is nobody from the other side of the question who can refute my conclusion. After all, if they had died in their dreams and in reality, they could not come back to refute me. Which is not an argument against me. Or at least not one from evidence.

The last thing is that there are surely people who would argue that I did not really die in my dream. After all, I am alive, so I could not have died in my dream. That is certainly a circular argument, but it deserves a final comment.

I did not go back into my dream to see if somebody either sewed my head back onto my body or stopped the bleeding in time to save my life. Nor did I think that the bite left any question of those options. The bite ended my life. No lucid dream changes. No heroics. End of life. End of story. Again, not really an answer or an argument, but the best I can offer.

Which brings us back to the original thought. People do not die in real life when they die in their dreams. At least I did not.

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