On Dreams...

You could say I'm a dreamer. I spend more of my consciousness in the state of dreaming and after analysis than I do most daily tasks. Of the different kinds of dreaming I'm about to list, I have had them ALL, including precognitive dreams. They say dreams are only interesting to the dreamer, but lately I have been dreaming about socks and having to go back to high school. I know what that's about, you don't. I do believe that we create our own "dream symbols". I don't believe in a Freudian all fits one theory on symbology AT ALL. So don't be sending me banana pictures or any of that crap, cos I don't go there. If I'm gonna have a sexual dream, I guaratee it won't be in metaphoric imagery. And then I usually wind up thinking about that person for the rest of the day. (Eurgh eurgh!) So without further ado, I bring you some interesting facts about dreams:


10. Your brain is active when you dream. Yep, it doesn't go off when you go to sleep, even if you don't remember your dreams in the morning. 'Nuff said.


9. Animals dream, too. After all the YouTube videos out there of puppies doing cutesy things whilst asleep, I think you've already figured that one out. BUT: Reptiles and other cold blooded animals we don't think do dream...(I'm not so sure about that, I think more important research on snake dreaming is needed.)

8. Weed and dreams. Many pot smokers report having no dreams, yet after they quit, the same ex-stoners report extremely vivid and intense dreams. Most vivid dreams take place during REM sleep, so the logical scientific question is "Does marijuana (THC) affect REM sleep?" According to a 1975 study, cannabis DOES reduce REM sleep, and a REM rebound effect upon withdrawal from THC. Whoaaa...

7. Epic Dreams. These are extremely vivid and can be life changing. These dreams are so compelling that they often generate a greater awareness of your natural surroundings and give you a fresh, new perspective on an aspect of life. The epic dream can remain with you for years. People who experience these dreams often report a continuous story line that constitutes an enirely different and ongoing life.

6. Gender differences in dreams. (too many boring stats in this one, gonna try to sum it up.) Men usually dream as men. Women can go either way. Men's dreams (I'm guessing straight men here, it's not specific) are reported to include more violence, cars, and roads. Women's dreams tend to last longer and include more emotional content. For those of you who think we are all dreaming of sexual conquests all the time, think again; On average, 8% of people's dreams contain sexual activity. That's it, pervs. Men tend to dream about unknown or public places and their dreams often feature strangers, whilst women often dream of enclosed bodies of water, such as lakes, pools and ponds. NOT THE BACK OF THE CAR! Of course this data is based on general percentages and is NOT TRUE FOR EVERYONE.

5. Sleep paralysis. Yuk. Let's just say it sucks. Food for thought on this before we leave, though...people who claim alien abductions....are they just experiencing this horrendous paralysis?


4. Nightmares vs night terrors. Read Ernest Hartmann's books. He's done the work on this. Common adult nightmares are commonly being chased by a male figure, while children face animals or fantasy creatures. (My usual nightmare takes place in a parking lot at the business end of a gun, but that is based on a real experience) Night terrors are quite different from nightmares. They occur diring the first hour or two of sleep and during the non-REM cycle. Loud screaming and thrashing are common. The sleeper is hard to awake and usually remembers no more than an overwhelming feeling or a single scene. Night terrors are much less commmon than nightmares. Children from the ages of 2-6 are most prone to night terrors and they affect about 15% of all children. (I have a new-agey theory about children and terrors, but I'll not bore you with that here)


3. Famous Dreams. This is soooo cool! I'm going to copy the whole thing for you because it's so dang interesting!

Dreams have often been credited with influencing world-changing events. Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein after having a dream about the monster, saying that she "saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion." (Whoa...) Elias Howe was a sewing machine pioneer who greatly influenced the product in the middle of the 19th century. He is recorded as saying that he had a vivid dream about a group of cannibals that were preparing to cook him. They were dancing around a fire, waving their spears up and down. Howe noticed that in the head of each spear there was a small hole, which ultimately gave him the idea of passing the thread through the sewing needle close to the point, not at the other end. It was a major innovation in making mechanical sewing possible. The scientist Friedrich August Kekule' discovered the seemingly impossible chemical structure of benzene (C6H6) after having a dream about a group of snakes swallowing their tails. (go figure on that one, chem nerds) James Watson and Francis Crick discovered the structure of DNA. Watson later reported that the idea came to him after dreaming of a series of spiral staircases. (Yes, I get this one.) A few days prior to his death, Abraham Lincoln discussed a dream with his wife in which he previewed a dead body wrapped in funeral vestments surrounded by hundreds of mourners. He claims to have been told by a soldier that the president had been assassinated. (And I told a special friend to make a book based on a dream where I actually saw their book, could flip the pages, smell the damn ink....PAY ATTENTION, DAMMIT!)

2. Chronic snoring can lead to a sleep disorder. Not sleep apnea but something wierder....Many indidviduals who experience chronic snoring are suffering from an REM sleep disorder. People who snore regularly do dream, but will not remember the dreams as often as normally sleeping individuals. They often will develop an REM sleep disorder, which is characterized by not experiencing any paraylsis when they sleep, thus causing the sleeper to physicially act out in their dreams. Such behaviors often include talking (mea culpa) yelling (mea culpa) punching, kicking, jumping out of the dang bed, arm flailing (mea culpa) and even grabbing (mea culpa ONCE). The person will remain sleeping while acting out their dreams and will not remember the activity or dream the next day. Oy. It''s my meds, folks, I'm positive it's the meds.

1. Vivid dreams help you learn. Blah, blah, blah, learn more about REM sleep if you want. REM sleep activates the area of the brain that we use for learning. REM sleep is also associated with increased protein in the brain. Go google Ontogenetic Hypothesis of REM sleep for more info.


"When you dream, what do you dream about?" Moody Blues

Info from The Ultimate Book of Bizarre Lists

On The Ponies

(Lights rise up slowly to elderly woman in wheelchair.  Her head is down, obviously sleeping)

ELDERLY WOMAN: (head rises slowly) What? (long pause, she is coming out of her sleep slowly)  Who are you? (pause, she is trying to understand.) My daughter? Are you really? (She slowly looks to the side)  I had a baby once.  Do I still have a baby? Does she need me or can I still sleep a bit? (pause) Good.  I have trouble getting around, it's just too hard to take care of babies nowadays.  (her eyes are unfocused, and slowly close again for just a moment, then languidly open) I want my breakfast.  Where is my breakfast?  (pause) I did?  What the hell did I have? (pause) Did I like it?  Sometimes breakfast is pretty dull. (pause) Oh good, I liked it.  (her eyes close again, she takes a long breath. Then snappily she opens eyes, as if she is completely cognizant, looks front, voice changes to childish) Uh, you...you!  I want to go to the mooshic park.  Will you take me to the mooshic park?  (pause)  Oh you mean the music park? (pause) OH! The AMUSEMENT park....yes, that's what I used to call it, the mooshic park, because it sounded like my parents were saying music...hehehheh.
(she is becoming more physically articulate, more excited)  Excuse me? You've heard this before?  Tough crap. You get to hear it again.  (she takes a deep breath, eyes opening wider) We are going to the mooshic park.  I am so excited.  There was music, you know.  They played music on the...the...oh what the hell do you call it...(quick pause) oh yes, yes the carousel.  I was scared the first time my parents put me on it.  Yeah, very scared.  But I learned to love it.  It was the first thing we did when we went there.  Did I tell you there was an oil well on the street beside the mooshic park?  (pause) It WAS on Fairfax, not La Cienega. I KNOW that. (short breath)  Oh yeah, I remember when my parents sent me in the spook house alone, too. I was brave but I came out of that place in tears.  All that stuff was probably really fake looking but to a little kid, well, you know, because I did the same thing to my daughter, hehheheh. Yeah at the fair...heheheh.  I think it ruined Halloween for her forever. (pause)  They had other rides at the mooshic park too, I think a roller coaster.  But it was only there for awhile, probably wasn't safe.  (pause, she now speaks a bit pissily) Yes I KNOW I told you, humor me, I'm an old fart, damnit! (long pause, she is getting tired,) sigh  (eyes start to close, but open wide again) You wanna know what the best thing was for me, though?  Ay, yes you know, of course.  You know everything. It was the pony ride. (she sighs, but is excited) Yeah those poor little ponies, but I LOVED them.  It was a track, you know.  It wasn't like those lame pony rides now where they just go around in a circle.  How boring!  No, it was a real track, with a little house in the middle where they took care of the ponies. They put me on the pony and gave it a little whip and we trotted down the first part of the track, the pony would go slow.  By the way, can I have breakfast? (pause, she sighs) Sssss.  So the pony trotted slowly down the first part of the track, bumpitty bump bump.  It was really nice, I remember flags, too. Lots of colors. And I smelled cotton candy and horseshit.  And hay.  It was rare to smell horseshit and hay in Los Angeles...yeah, horseshit! Heheheheh.  ( pause) So then we'd be going along the track and sometimes it seemed forever, other times way too short...let's see, the track.  Yeah. The final stretch...the ponies were trained to go fast towards the end. Oh it was so awesome, feeling the wind in my hair, just racing on this pony, so cool, I always laughed...heheh.  I felt I was sooo free, it was so effortless...ahh...(Her eyes gently close as she says the last sentence)  I was so free.....(she lowers her head as if to return to sleep, sighs, coughs, then slowly opens her eyes again, raises her head) Who are you? (pause) Can I have breakfast?  (lights out)

On Super Dooper Customer Service

When I was in my late 20's I worked for TWA in the reservations department.  I was only there for about 9 months because the pay was so miniscule, but in that amount of time, I learned how to deal with the public in amazing ways.  Now back then, our calls were not only monitored, but we had time limits on each call as well.  That makes it pretty tough to get all "warm and friendly".  But I have a strange gift (amongst all my other talents).  I am a mimic.  Yep. I can mimic an accent within 4 seconds of hearing it.  So by accepting calls from all over the country, I was able to start talking like the caller without seeming to mock them or sound strange.  I'd get the Kentuckian who'd ask me where I was from?  "California, suhh?" "Mah goodniss, ah thawt ya was frum rahht nixt dooah" "Yup, sahh"  and so it went.  I went very quickly to being rated number 2 in an office of 200 souls, all doing the same thing, making airplane reservations, answering stupid questions, etc.  And as a res agent, we had to know EVERYTHING.  We had a HUGE manual we kept near our consoles and it was added to daily by updates, policy changes, eventually just becoming shredder fodder.  But you never knew if the next caller would ask THE QUESTION THAT YOU COULDN'T INSTANTLY ANSWER WHILE BEING MONITORED.  Ooooh. Busted.

During my tenure at TWA, katrillionaire and asshole extraordinaire Carl Icahn owned the airline.  I remember hearing about him buying a 1.5 million dollar racehorse as I was staring at my check reflecting on the $6.75 an hour less taxes and the partial payment for TWA school. Later on I learnt that making people pay to go to school to work for a specific company is illegal, but good ol Carl looked at humans and saw dollar signs. (I went bankrupt on his ass anyway.)  Every policy they enacted seemed to whittle down our earnings potential.  I also found out after I quit that the New York res office was making double what we were.  I could have stayed and enjoyed the benefits of almost free travel and actually had some money to spend once we got to where ever.  But such was not to be.  I did get a RT flight to NYC and took my folks to London, their first out of the US experience (besides Tijuana), so I guess I got my money's worth. 

But I digress.  The point of this particular blog is to tell a different story.  As some of you have followed, we got stuck in NYC this last December because of the GREAT BIG BLIZZARD.  (Truckee and Tahoe residents would laugh their asses off) Our going home flight was delayed twice because of no visibility/ice/whatever.  Fine with me, another night was no big whoop.  But after the second cancellation, I tried for four hours to ring the airline, to no avail.  I wasn't even allowed to HOLD!  Just booted off. So I wrote them a frantic e-mail.  No response until the next day, another night in NY.  (Still no big whoop, really, we were having a fine time.)  Finally, a nice lady called from the airline and told me that we would not be able to get another flight until the 1st. And now with a 45 minute plane change in Long Beach. HUH?  January 1st?  Another 5 days?  We were originally booked to go home on the 26th.  Yikes.  But I'd looked at other airlines and they were all booked up, too, some until the 7th, and because we had no advance purchase, we'd have to buy one-way tickets at the price of at least 1 grand each.  The hotel was completely understanding in our plight, made me a deal on the remaining days because New Year's eve rack rate is normally $600.00. DOUBLE YIKES!  As it was they only charged me an addl $1100 which was mighty Christian of them.  They could have said tough luck and we'd have been trolling the streets of NYC (Which was filling up with New Year's eve revelers from all over the world) trying to find shelter. I did the math and even despite the extra thousand, it was still worth it to stay.  So again, a bit of pissiness, but no super big whoop.  Same nice room, same fun stuff, good eats, extra time with the kids, all was right with the world.  We made our flight on the 1st, got home and both of us immediately got sick.  Yucky whoop.

Now I am getting to a point here, really. During my illness I had a bit of time to fester on the airline situation.  We got bumped from the next logical flight, which would have been on the 7pm nonstop on the 28th. They put us on a flight for next year.  Hmmm.  Other people must have screamed loud to get some compensation, especially ones who had to sleep in the airport.  What about me?  It still cost the big buck to stay in the city, I was screwed, too. (whimper, whimper, heheh) So in a fit of "justice for all" I called the res office to see what they could do for me.  The first agent I got was a piece of work.  This woman should NEVER be working with the public in ANY capacity.  After politely explaining our situation to her, with righteous indignation she asked me "Do you want me to believe that you expected the airline to remove those lucky passengers who had booked their tickets months in advance and now had flights already booked for the 28th to put YOU on the plane?" huh? Well, yeah, I did.  I guess I'm selfish that way. I booked my flights months before as well. I replied to the agent "I was looking for some sort of compensation for the money I had to spend staying in the city..." She immediately suggested I go to the website and "write my complaints to my little heart's content" in the "contact us space".  I told her I used to work for TWA and we never treated passengers that way.  She loudly repeated her original disbelief that I would be SO STUPID as to think that they would simply bump already ticketed passengers to accommodate me. She said that the airline had fulfilled their responsibility by putting us on the next AVAILABLE flight.  She then told me she was ending the call and promptly hung up on me.  WOW.  People gotta know, you DO NOT EVER HANG UP ON ME.  I was not using vulgarities or calling her mother names.  Yes, my voice had reached fever pitch, but that was a response to her nastiness. A call back was definitely in order.  Next "available flight" be damned.

I took a few calming breaths and redialed.  I immediately asked for a supervisor, only because I didn't want to have to go thru the same crap.  The agent asked for our res number, and I again explained the situation.  She immediately put me on hold to find a supervisor.  She came back on after a short bit and said that she would have to look for another supervisor, the one she just talked to wasn't too sympathetic. Huh? Another hold, and then success.  Without going through a lot of wordy detail, I eventually got exactly what I wanted. Two free roundtrip flights to wherever the airline travelled to.  And this agent was so sweet.  She totally sympathized, she was patient, she was just a pleasure to deal with.  Even if I hadn't gotten exactly what I wanted, I simply couldn't holler at her.  She was just too kind.  I immediately kicked off a complimentary e-mail on the website, making sure to spell her name right. I know those commendation letters are important.  I still have a file full of them from TWA. 

This morning I had some time to reflect on what makes good customer service.  Why do I take my car to the most expensive garage in the county? Because I know these guys will do it right in the first place, not treat me like a dipshit, and do little free favors for me between times.  (Reference Rat Nest in My Engine on fb)  Why do I shop online at Zappos for shoes? Because shipping is free both ways and I can try the shoes on in the comfort of my home.  I know they pad the price, but it's worth it for me.  Why do I shop at local boutiques instead of driving 45 minutes down the hill to the department stores? Because the salespeople treat me like a welcome guest.  They are beyond polite.  They are gracious and helpful and make shopping (which I really detest) a pleasure.  These things make commerce palatable.  The following does not...

My bank was bought up by another large bank (rhymes with lack of GRACE).  They recently sent me a booklet announcing their new fee structure.  Free checking is a thing of the past.  But it mentioned "linking" accounts to avoid being feed.  Ok, so I called them.  Got some sort of outsourced call center, think it may be India, but not really sure.  The first guy I talked to gave me a run around of epic proportions.  I had a headache after the call was completed and was not sure if he did what I thought he said he did....decided to call again to make sure.  This second guy was all "Yes maam!"  I don't think he understood a word of what I was saying, but when I asked him if my accounts were indeed linked, he replied with a cheery but vacuous "Yes maam!"  Alrighty then.  I guess I will wait to see if I have been wrongfully feed on my upcoming statement and them just take my lazy ass into the bank and bitch to the manager. 

People gripe about outsourcing all the time.  I don't necessarily agree with keeping all manufacturing jobs in the US.  This country is addicted to cheap Chinese and Malaysian goods.  The middle class could never afford to shop for US made merchandise even if the workers were paid minimum wage to make them.  And judging by all the cheap knockoffs of designer purses we saw on Canal street in NYC that were being sold in droves, the situation is just going to get worse for those in the goods producing industries.  But I have A BIG PROBLEM with the outsourcing of important call-center jobs, such as in banking and finance.  This is my MONEY we're talking about, and just like I DON'T GET HUNG UP ON, I DON'T LIKE MY MONEY MESSED WITH.  No matter how many times the agent asks me if there's anything else he can be doing to be helping me on this fine day, I just don't quite believe he has helped me at all.  I have an idea to improve customer service in these important industries, that if taken up on, would bring all those jobs back to our shores, pronto.  Big Banker CEO dude, listen up, consumer talking to you.  Instead of "managing your portfolio online" or "having your administrative assistant (or "admin" as it's shortened to now) take care of it for you", do yourself a favor.  Call your own damn call center with an important question.  Write down the answer and then call it again.  See if the second person gives you the same answer.  I'll bet you your ergonomic desk chair that they don't.  Try it for a third time just for kicks. Three's the charm....usually, but I'll betcha not in this instance.  I'll be taking your marbled desk, too.  And your admin.

On The First Day

So...this is my first blog.  Weblog, to be precise, but in this hyper energy world, we have to shorten everything to at least one syllable...hence "blog".  I have been inspired to write this by my aunt who has handsomely chronicled the interesting happenings in her life with discipline every Friday.  I doubt I will have such regularity in posting, so if I ever get a following they will have to wait with baited breath for my golden words to drip all over their screens. Ha!

The specific reason for this particular post is to not usurp my aunt's current blog with my own spin, but twirl around in my own personal environment, bringing to birth My Own Damn Blog. Without further ado, here is important information. http://casamurphy.blogspot.com/2011/01/sandpaper.html go ahead and read it now before going any further. Really.  You need to.

Allrighty then.  If you haven't got it yet, I am the baby of my Aunt's blog. This is not a pity party.  If you want to feel sorry for someone, go find someone pitiful, I 'aint yer gal.

I blithely went to live with my adopted family.  My new parents were good about making me aware that I was adopted.  It was never a stigma, there were many other adopted kids in school with me.  My new mom (let's call her Fay, for kicks) told me a few things that I have no memory of.  When they picked me up from the adoption place, my hair was long and curled with ribbons, to make me look more attractive, I guess.  Fay immediately had my hair cut to look like the Pennsylvania Dutch Boy, and asexual.  Her reasoning was that she was going to have to deal with more important stuff than doing my hair everyday.  (I grew my hair down to my butt in my late 30's, she hated it.)  She also told me that when they first brought me to our new home, I said "Ooooh!" at the first sight of each room.  They had had the place designed by an interior decorator of the day and I guess seeing shiny purple satin and red velvet plush wallpaper was cool to a two and a half year old.  In fact I never questioned my mother's design choices until much later when I brought a snobby friend home to visit and she told me my parent's bedroom looked like a bordello.

My new parents also told me that when they came to the adoption place to see the selection, I was the only one there.  The coiffed adoption lady came up to me and said "These people are your new mommy and daddy." Whatever. I think I was more interested in the new toys in the playroom to give a rat's ass. So much for freedom of choice.  I've come to the conclusion that the adoption people were very pushy.

This is what I do remember about adoption day...We had a picnic on the grounds.  I don't remember what I ate, but it was tasty.  I remember there was a fountain with a couple of kids under a big umbrella.  They stood over a pond with real fish in it.  My new dad held me up to see the fishies.

Flash backwards: Other memories, shady but still there.  A dark place where I was hollering; for someone to hold me, because I was wet, I was hungry, I was scared.  Then, a brighter place with a new crib, an awesome toy closet and psychedelic green grass outside.  A lot of external hollering sometimes, but I was too into whatever plaything to care.  A reddish roof.

Flash forwards again: If you're tired of flashing, put your clothes on and stop acting stupid.

There was an ubiquitous letter in the adoption papers my parents gave to me when I was around 12 giving some very "general" explanation of why the adoption happened and basic heights and weights, etc. I knew damn well that there was way more to it, and planned to find out once I reached my maturity. Don't forget, back in 1966 people just didn't talk about those "nasty little details". (And I guess they also made shit up to make themselves feel better) Never had a friggin "Kiddie pool" either! Me and my friends had to sneak into the nearest Ramada Inn to enjoy those chlorinated waters.

My birth father Barry contacted me about 2 yrs after I reunited with my birth mother, Sheri. A mutual friend had told him that I had been found and he called me. Our daughter Marlene was still a baby, we met him and his wife at the Biltmore Hotel downtown. He and I still talk and he came up here once to see me in a play. He's a great guy, takes good care of himself, loves to work (satellite engineer) and still fabulously good looking. He looked like Richard Geere when he was young.

But now we get to the thing that pees me off the most...I don't care who you are or what fabulous family you get adopted into. There are still emotional scars. You may not realise it as a child, but when you hit adolescence it comes out swingin'. I love my adoptive parents very much, miss them alot, grateful for what I have, and what they did for me. In the cosmic scheme I'm sure it was meant to be. But I could have stayed in the birth family and not have been a bother to my grandmother. My father's family had offered to raise me, but grandma would have nothing of it. And they seemed a very together unit to me. They had "family circles" every weekend and were very close. My grandma on Barry's side is 99 and still doing relatively well. So, there's a wee bit of resentment on my part that I was booted out for vanity's sake.

Oh yeah, the wedding should be very interesting...