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Monday, August 8, 2016

A Video Reminds a Woman of a Hopital-Induced Delirium Dream │ My Final 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade Photos

There was nothing worthwhile on T.V. to watch last evening, so I tuned in coverage of the Olympics being held in Brazil.

My younger brother Mark passed out in his chair around 8:30 p.m. for an hour or so, and then he later passed out yet again around 10:30 p.m.

The Olympic coverage was to run until midnight, but I had no intention of sitting through it that long.

Nevertheless, I was curious about how long Mark was going to be out of it, so I kept him company.

He normally goes up to his bedroom around 10:20 p.m. - 10:40 p.m. to begin readying himself for bed ─ he keeps his clock-radio set for 4:20 a.m. to get him up on workdays.

Well, he remained unconscious until something like 11:40 p.m., and then he decided that he had best haul himself up to his bedroom.

And that was my cue to turn off the T.V.

I got involved in some E-mails, and darned if it wasn't around 12:40 a.m. before I got to bed.

But I had a rather pleasant discovery before I did go to bed.

I had checked my AdSense account just before I began yesterday's blog post, and it had accumulated nothing that day so far.

Well, to my considerable surprise, when I checked it just before going to bed last night, I saw that there was then a balance of 97¢ for the day.

I almost feel lucky if I accrue 1¢ in a day.  There's nothing in today's balance yet, for example.

My first true break in sleep overnight arrived just ahead of 5:00 a.m., and following the bathroom break that I took, sleep was rather poor thereafter.  I decided to rise for the day when I checked the time at 7:00 a.m.

My youngest step-son Pote was up, for he had earlier escorted his overnighted girlfriend away.  And at 8:22 a.m., he was to leave to catch his bus to take him to work.

And I was to have my first full day home alone in precisely two weeks!

I worked much of the morning on the post I commenced on Saturday at my Siam-Longings website.  However, I did take a break to hike the four or so blocks over to the the No Frills supermarket at Cedar Hills (96th Avenue & 128th Street) here in Surrey.

And then after I was back home, I had to deal with the accursed brown hound's incessant noise coming from just beyond our backyard fence.

It came nigh to breaking me this time ─ it barked and barked for three hours, and I felt so very hopeless and trapped.  No neighbour should be allowed to do this to another neighbour.

There was genuine murder in my heart.

I can easily see how someone can be pushed into a berserk rage that ends in the sort of violence that makes headlines.

It may yet happen to me.

The day had started off rather sunny, but as the morning wore on the clouds prevailed.  It was still warm out there, however; and if not for the noise from the hound, I might have betaken myself to the backyard to sit in a chair and face towards the direction of the hidden Sun.

Instead, I watched the latest episode of Dark Matter here on my computer.  I had cooked myself a rare meal of ground beef, onions, broccoli, and garlic; and spiced it with Himalayan salt, pepper, chili powder, turmeric,  paprika, and black pepper.

The whole concoction was slow-cooked in a covered frying pan on an element of our electric stove ─ I believe that it took about an hour to have it finished cooking. 

A great accompaniment to the show!

My wife Jack texted me early into that programme to ask if the Pattullo Bridge will be open tonight, and I replied back that the website reporting on the bridge's rehabilitation work says that the bridge is due to close overnight (weather depending).

So whether she will be making an appearance home late this evening or not from Vancouver remains to be seen ─ she tries to avoid using the Port Mann Bridge and its rather heavy toll. 

I had an interesting E-mail today in response to a video link that I forwarded around last night before I went to bed ─ the video was a clip from The Ellen DeGeneres Show, and was titled The Amazing iPad Magician:

I had commented that I had "never even held an iPad, let alone used one; so its capabilities as being described here are meaningless to me ─ I don't know what's trickery or feasible."

Well, an American female recipient of the link replied as follows ─ keep in mind that she had been in a medically-induced coma early in 2015 or possibly back in 2014:

You are not going to believe this!  I have never seen this before, never even heard of anybody doing tricks with an iPad.

In my coma dream, I talked to Chief of Police, Glen Levitt; whom was someone I actually knew and worked with 40 years ago at the ***** ***** Police Department, only then his name was Glen G*****.

He told me he bought the Glen Levitt brand in the 1970's and legally changed his name to his brand.

I was viewing him on a computer screen which was in front of me, between me and the windshield, inside an old step van type of vehicle, almost like an old army truck of some kind.  I was sitting in the driver's seat, and the passenger seat had been converted to a table.  He wanted me to try his whiskey, which was Glen Levitt scotch.

The truck was parked under an awning inside a very tall chain link fenced area behind a red brick building.  It was dark, but there was an outside light over the back door. I saw a woman come out the door. She walked over to the passenger window and placed an iPad on the table to my right, then she went back inside.

The iPad came on showing a shot glass full of whiskey sitting on a table. I was looking down at it.

I looked up at Glen when he said "Have a drink", and when I looked back down, there was actually a shot of whiskey sitting on the iPad.

The coma dream goes on from there, but how weird is that?  Where does this stuff come from?  I swear I have no memory of ever even hearing about a magician using an iPad.

I have almost full recall of those coma dreams, but absolutely no real memories of what happened.  Sometimes it makes me feel crazy.  I can't talk to my family about these memories.  It is upsetting to them. But these memories are still so very real to me....and then, something like this video happens, and the memories come flooding back.

We, Glen and I, talked for hours.  He did most of the talking, mostly about himself, his philosophies, his work, his life, his family.  I remember it all like it actually happened.  I don't know how to explain it....it feels like I had another life on some other plane.  I only wish I could remember the words to the songs I heard while in these coma dreams!!!

Do you think I could be hypnotized and remember them?  You are the only person I can talk to about this shit.  Thanks for listening.
Darn!  I never thought to keep a copy of my response, so I can't present it here.

But this was her reply to me:
Thank you, Garnet.  I am not ready to try and grasp the details in the study, but I will save it for another time.
It's hard to explain, but I feel some what overwhelmed when I get these floods of memory from my coma dreams.  They are always triggered by simple things; your very interesting email about the magician; a photograph of a chair on a website that specializes in vintage; a rose colored nail polish color at the nail salon I go to; a pair of clear plastic sandals for sale on an Asian website......
I think what you said makes sense, but, I am not making this stuff up as I go.  These feel like real memories to me.  They feel like things that really happened, even though I know that they did not.  It is a little disconcerting.
Thank you for listening.  Thank you for talking to me about it.  Thank you for trying to help me understand what is going on with my brain.  I appreciate you, Garnet.  I'm really not crazy......well.......not much anyway! LOL
I can only rarely remember anything of a dream that I've had the very night previous ─ how she can recall such detail after such a long time is just about alien to me.


I have one last batch of photos to offer from the 2016 Vancouver Pride Parade that I went downtown and watched on July 31st, so they now follow.

As I have said in my previous posts concerning the photos, I had only once before seen even part of the parade, so this was the first time I ever caught the entire procession.

Consequently, I have no familiarity with any of the participants, and thus am unable to describe any of the photos:


And here are a couple of video clips I had not yet posted:

Google even made a bit of a video/slideshow out of some of the Google album where I have the photos and video clips:


As has become my norm, here is an entry from my journal of 41 years ago to close out today's post.

Back then, I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.  The house I was renting in was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I only worked one day a week ─ Friday, as rule.  My employer was a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that today calls itself Fraserside Community Services Society.

I served as a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck that was used for collections, deliveries, and even occasional moving jobs if the task was deemed manageable.

At that time, S.A.N.E. was located in one of a stretch of buildings that used to be located on Carnarvon Street right where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now empties out.
FRIDAY, August 8, 1975

I was extremely restless last night, not being able to fall asleep.

I got up before 7:00 a.m., just in time to enter the kitchen and wait out David's knocking.

With Cathy's kids' dolls, on my way to S.A.N.E. I stopped at Safeway and bought a box, 30 oz.,  of Quaker Harvest Crunch (with apple and cinnamon) for $1.79.

Arriving at S.A.N.E., David was there.  We sat talking awhile, and I committed myself to visiting him this eve.

I worked with both Bills, not beginning till about 11:30 a.m.; we had a rather heavy load, but it was bearable.

Returning to the store, Steven saw me on the back of the truck, calling out and waving at Auckland & 10th.

The Quaker Harvest Crunch lunch I had was superb, even if I did use powdered milk.

Back at S.A.N.E. Bill A. and I sat about doing nothing till 4:30 p.m. when Esther returned from chores.  We worked.

I was driven to 3rd Ave. & 10th St after work, arriving home with an overcoat at 7:00 p.m.

After exercising and so forth, I found myself without the life to venture off and visit David by 9:00 p.m., as I had promised.

For me, bedtime at 10:00 p.m.
My old friend Philip David Prince also lived in New Westminster, and had recently moved from what I believe may have been the Fraser Apartments to room #17 at 115 Tenth Street, but I had yet to visit him at his new location.

He had left me a note saying that he would see me this day at S.A.N.E., but I did not expect him to be coming by my room ─ I didn't want his intrusive presence so early in the morning upsetting my normal morning routine, and thus I was silent and ignored his knocks.  

However, he did dutifully go to S.A.N.E. as he had said he would, and I found him there after I had bought the Quaker Harvest Crunch cereal. 

The dolls I had with me were given to me by my younger brother Mark's girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther.

I remember nothing of either of the "Bills" I co-swamped with that day, although one of them was apparently named Bill Sevenko.  I suspect that both were likely older than I was.

Our driver was generally Esther St. Jean, a dear woman in her early 40s.

I mention being recognized by "Steven" while I was sitting in the back of the truck ─ the only Steven I can imagine this to have been would have been Steven Smith, the young pre-schooler son of Art Smith.

Art ─ in his early 40s ─ also worked part-time at S.A.N.E., and Steven would have had to have been with him on this day.

Auckland & Tenth Street was where that incident took place ─ it is remarkably  near to where my old friend David had moved, as this Google map indicates:

As I frequently have explainned in previous posts, I do not remember that I often used to come back to my room for my lunch break, yet I did so this day to enjoy that Quaker Harvest Crunch cereal with some skim milk I mixed up from powder ─ I seldom had liquid milk because I could ill afford it.

It was a fairly late workday, but at least I got a ride to a block from where I lived, and I scored an overcoat someone had donated.

However, due to the lateness of my day, upon exercising ─ I was a stickler about that back then ─ I just didn't have it in me to hike over and spend a visit with David at his new room.  I wanted to have a reasonably early bedtime.

And now that I have had time to consider that address, I can't help but wonder if maybe it was the Fraser Apartments to which David had moved?  I just don't remember precisely where that building existed ─ I think that it comprised nothing but single-room tenancies.

It was definitely low-income.

Perhaps I will explain it in a future journal entry.
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