Radiation Bond dream

Dream during wake-up at 3:30am (too early! Why am I awake & churning?)

Bond car left on our property that was found to have an abandoned, very hot radiation source. Lots of townspeople angry at us, and crazy car chases trying to dispose of it instead of continually be exposed from across the property. Hot as in picking it up was scary, but not barf and slough. Transporting it was multiple lifetime doses, not instant death sentence.


I like this short story text:

" I think we underestimated the size of the human species by eight or nine orders of magnitude.”
by u/InBabylonTheyWept in HFY

or narrated:


From /u/InBabylonTheyWept in /r/HFY a year ago.

” I think we underestimated the size of the human species by eight or nine orders of magnitude.”

The war room was reeling. The human population had been estimated in the mere hundred billion range. They should barely have had enough of an economy to field two light cruisers, least of all the goddamn armada that was ravaging the inner worlds. After the alpha strike, the human flotilla should’ve been completely crippled. Instead the number of ships they were fielding kept growing.

Tan-Hauser was the first target struck by a human attack, and they reported seventeen craft before they lost comms. Attican was hit just three days after that, but their reports already showed numbers above ninety. Any doubts that the fleet was growing were eliminated when Outpost Batan reported 1,217 FTL pings two days before the loss of Kira.

The number reported was so big it was written off as a sensor malfunction. Twenty-five billion souls lost, all because nobody in the war room could face reality.

They were going to face it now. The Kirarian in front of them was the primary sensor engineer for the Batan outpost, a specialist with more expertise in analyzing space lanes than warships. He’d been up for at least the last two days, poring over the sensor data, and only now was ready to begin to share his findings.

From the pain in his multifaceted eyes, it was clear he was still reeling from the loss of his homeworld.

Seeing that he had the room’s attention, he began to speak. The translation units each member of the war council had implanted experienced a moment of lag as they struggled to convert the almost musical tonal humming of the Kirarian tongue to more common galactic speech.

“The simplest data that can be analyzed from an FTL ping is the distance that the ship traveled before dropping to sublight. The contracted space in front of the craft traps small particles, even light itself for a short period, compressing its wavelength and then releasing it when the field disengages.”

The war room nodded along. The explanation was mildly technical, but anyone that had traveled on an FTL shuttle before knew the hazards of exiting FTL directly in front of your home destination. Blasting your home station with a wave of alpha, beta, and ultraviolet rays was hardly a warm welcome.

The engineer continued.

“The… issue with this is that we’re used to the majority of the ping being in the UV spectrum. We aren’t entirely sure what the spectrum of the signals we got from the ships were because Batan station can only detect up into the low gamma range, but that’s still what the majority of the human’s FTL pings were detected in. That’s at least ten billion times the frequency that we’re used to. Since the frequency of the burst can be roughly modeled by multiplying the mean radiation per unit distance by the length of the path, that implied one of two things: That the human ships were either traveling through areas with ten billion times the standard background flux, or that they were traveling extragalactic distances.”

The engineer paused for a few seconds at that statement. The pain of loss still shone in his gemstone eyes, but something more immediate was beginning to take center stage: Fear.

“Because the craft is essentially throwing… well, normally it would be the next three or four days worth of cosmic background radiation at you. In our case it’s more like several decades. But because it’s just giving you an advance on your normal cosmic background radiation, you can track the void in the next several days’ worth of background noise to determine the ship’s approach vector. The 1,217 crafts that arrived weren’t coming from the same spot. There were actually hundreds of converging vectors, but more importantly…”

He trailed off, a small 3D model of the local space appearing in the center of the holo table. A spiked ball of vectors protruded from the galactic disk, each piercing cleanly through his former homeworld.

His voice cracked a little, the hum turning into a hiss. The translator tech paused a moment too, struggling to convey the subtle emotional cues into the message.

“They’re all coming off the galactic disk. That doesn’t just mean that we’re surrounded, that doesn’t just mean that we’re outnumbered… It means that each attack that we’ve seen up to this point is from an entirely separate group. What we’ve been mistaking for fleets, I believe, are simply the beginning trickles of their exploratory forces. Each of the sites that they’ve targeted hasn’t been of significant strategic importance, they’ve just been sites with unusually strong output signals. I think they’re just using our transmission stations as makeshift beacons for their FTL jumps. I think we underestimated the size of the human species by eight or nine orders of magnitude.”

There was a heavy silence in the war room as that last sentence was processed. The engineer was already out the door before he heard the panic begin to set in.

Part of him felt a little guilty. It would’ve probably been kinder for them to go out not knowing what was about to hit them. Still, it wasn’t often you could force people with this much power to realize that they’d just lost everything.

There was a bitter satisfaction in that.


To anyone that made it this far, thank you for your patience. It’s been a hot minute since I had the time to submit anything here, but with my senior year of engineering behind me, and a new job already lined up, this should become a much more common event.

Thank you. <3

EB Elevator Dream

In my dream, EB fell into an empty elevator shaft from two floors up because the stairs/elevator on that side of a concrete apt building had never been built.

By the time I got to her, she was already up and moving, but looked ROUGH. I could not convince her to go to the hospital. Kids who lived there could not even get me to look over the edge.

Joke: A well in the woods

I was walking through some woods and came across a clearing where there was a well.

I dropped some pebbles and then some rocks to try to figure out how deep it was, but I didn’t hear them hit the bottom.

So I looked for something bigger. I found a railroad tie. I struggled to get it to the well and then angled it on the edge to finally get it to slip down the well.
When it fell, I was listening to hear it hit the bottom. All the sudden a goat came running from the woods and jumped straight into the well.
I was so distracted that I didn’t hear anything hit the bottom…
As I was standing there trying to think through what happened, a guy came out of the woods and asked me if I’d seen his goat.
I said, a goat just came running out of the woods and jumped down this well!!

He said, that couldn’t have been his… His was tied to a railroad tie.

Joke: Three Warring Kingdoms

Once upon a time, there was a triangular lake, who’s three shorelines each formed the border of one of three neighboring kingdoms, their histories steeped in bitter intertwined rivalry.

The first kingdom was rich and powerful, filled with wealthy, prosperous people.

The second was humbler, but still held its fair share of wealth and power.

The third kingdom was struggling and poor. It barely had an army to rally, after years of being on the back foot in comparison.

During a particularly tense political conflict, the kingdoms eventually dissolved their longstanding treaty that prevented any kingdom from claiming the lake for themselves, and went to war over control of the lake, which would grant the victor a significant strategic advantage, not to mention a valuable source of resources through which to prosper.

The first kingdom sent 100 of its finest knights, clad in the best armour, each with their own personal squire.

The second kingdom sent 50 knights, with fine leather armour, and a few dozen squires of their own.

The third kingdom sent their one and only knight, an elderly warrior who had long since passed his prime, with his own personal squire.

The night before the big battle, the knights in the first kingdom drank decadent imported liquors, and partied into the late hours of the night.

The knights in the second kingdom weren’t as well off, but had brought an ample supply of their kingdom’s renowned locally brewed mead, which also afforded them the opportunity to drink well into the night.

In the third camp, there was no such revelry. With just two members in their “army”, they had been forced to only bring the essentials, having to carry everything themselves, not that the kingdom had much in the way of decent alcohol to offer their hero’s in the first place. Stoicly, the faithful squire unwound a rope and swung it over the branch of a tall tree, making a noose, from which he hung a pot. He diligently filled the pot with the scraps of food they had brought, preparing a simple stew, before dishing it up and serving the old knight, then sitting down to join him for a humble dinner. Neither said it out loud, but both knew this was almost certainly their last meal.

The next morning, the knights in the first two kingdoms were hungover and unable to fight, while the elderly, frail knight in the third kingdom had suffered the cold winds blowing in from the lake. Weary, his joints aching, he was unable to stand, and despite his best efforts, the squire was unable to improve the knights condition by the time the horn bellowed, signifying the start of the battle.

In place of the knights, the squires from all three kingdoms picked up their weapons and began to fight.

The battle lasted long into the night, but by the time the dust settled, only one squire was left standing – the squire from the third kingdom.

And it just goes to show you that the squire of the high pot and noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.

Pride Month 2023

Pride month angers or scares a lot of “I’m not a bigot” people. It also pressures a lot of people who cannot be “out”, because of history, lack of safety, etc. My state is one of the ones trying to forcibly push everyone back into the closet through a lot of lies and propaganda. “Freedom for me, but not for thee.”

So, not just for the people who are safe and supported enough to publicly be themselves, but for all of you who cannot be, or were conditioned not to be, or those of you bulied for not being active enough, gay enough, too gay, confused, and everyone else with more to themselves than what the majority populations understand or want.

You are awesome, even the parts you hide, the parts you forget sometimes because of how good you’ve gotten at playing whatever part society defines for you.

You are loved, even if you don’t know it. Be proud of yourself. Be more caring, compassionate, and accepting of yourself (and others) than you have been treated. Be tolerant of mistakes or confusion, but not of willful mistreatment.

Give no quarter to those who say that being different in yourself is oppressive to their claims of control over how you express yourself, and who would promulgate lies to convince others to oppress you.

Be strong in defense of those being oppressed, even if it’s only you being oppressed. You are as important as the people you love and care about. Do not give in to hate. Do not let it control you from others nor from yourself. Ask for help from others who carry love and acceptance with them. We are stronger together.

No one knows you like you know yourself, maybe even you don’t know all of yourself. But there are people who know enough of what it is to be like some of your pieces to find a little home for part of your heart. May you find more of those people this month to be a part of your personal community.

I’m sure there is more to say, and better, more concise ways to say it. I’m not an orator. I’m just someone with love to give. It’s not enough, but the love is yours if you want it.

Dream of The Arts

I don’t remember much, but it was fairly early in the morning. We were at a play, at a school auditorium, which had been an evening gala. Piles of clothes lined up around the dressing and rest rooms. Several friends were playing roles, on a whim. It was sort of like live auditions, in front of a live audience. Several people were drunk from an evening of partying.

I was heading out, and navigating stacks if clothes with a 2-wheel hand truck, through the door, through what I thought was a restroom. Fun jibes with a guy on the way out. I was pooped. Then… I was outside.

And as I walked away, I saw her. She had been inside, in a red dress, with frills. Here, jeans, a white and baby blue striped shirt, and the best curls I’ve ever seen. We’d talked inside, but not much. Time jumped. because she had been in line to go on stage when I left.

Someone was trying to pick a verbal fight with her, so I walked with her, put my arm across her back, and told her to just ignore them.

She was tall, had a kind, pretty, uncertain face. Light brown, dark tan.. but with freckles. I REALLY loved her hair. All 1″ curls, even on top.

Slight Spanish accent, but mostly neutral US. We chatted, and were both kind of swooning. “Would you really be interested in dating a mean girl?” “Maybe.”

Some quips and we found the we lived close, and would try to have no expectations, but were both besmitten. We were late 20s, healthy, I was lean, and we were excited.

After waking, I still have the feeling. I miss her, and she’s an imaginary amalgamation of a comedian, my spouse, and others.

The dream before had something to do with international calls, and trying to solve something.

Grice’s maxims of cooperative communication

Grice’s maxims of cooperatice communication are fourfold.


His maxim of quantity is to be informative, and has two submaxims:

  1. Make your contribution as informative as is required (for the current purposes of the exchange).
  2. Do not make your contribution more informative than is required.

Analogy: If I ask for 4 screws, do not provide only 2, and fo not provide 6.


His maxim of quality is to be truthful, and has these submaxims:

  1. Do not say what you believe is false.
  • Do not say that for which you lack adequate evidence.

  • Analogy: Be genuine and not spurious. If I ask for sugar, I do not expect salt. If I ask for a spoon, I do not expect a trick rubber spoon.


    His maxim of relation says:

    Be relevant — i.e., one should ensure that all the information they provide is relevant to the current exchange; therefore omitting any irrelevant information.

    Analogy: I expect a partner’s contribution to be appropriate to the immediate needs at each stage of the transaction. If I am mixing ingredients for a cake, I do not expect to be handed a good book, or even an oven cloth (though this might be an appropriate contribution at a later stage).


    His final maxim of manner is to be clear, and has ingrained parody of itself:

    Be perspicious.

    1. Avoid obscurity of expression — i.e., avoid language that is difficult to understand.
  • Avoid ambiguity — i.e., avoid language that can be interpreted in multiple ways.

  • Be brief — i.e., avoid unnecessary prolixity.

  • Be orderly — i.e., provide information in an order that makes sense, and makes it easy for the recipient to process it.

  • ——

    Flouting a maxim ironically can be used to convey deeper or alternate meaning when context is correct.

    Viloating maxims can be used to mislead, or impede communication.


    Fire Chasies

    It was embarrasing. We had firechasies loose on the ship. One or two were annoying. They liked to toy with people, maybe singe hair. They were psychic, and imbued people with a little fear. They thought it was funny.

    But this was maybe 40 or 50. The richies who rented the ship thought it would be good fun, but of course, the chasies got loose. This was a real hazard. We would have to vent the ship.

    But did we? Were we just playing into their silly littly game? How long could people last with the cabins purged, Could we cram everyone somewhere safe and keep the chasies out?

    I went to the cockpit, and looked out the window. Beautiful. We were low over a thick dust ring around a gas giant. Anyway, back to the plan.

    I needed to make sure that others were safe if we lost control of the ship. Only one ship nearby.

    “Pegasus, how many on board?”

    “Pegasus Crew Transport, 51 souls on board.”

    I could see them now. They looked like a lolipop with two long pontoons. Reminded me of the Precursor ship on Star Control.

    They were moving fast, lower against the dust rings. They had to be hitting pebbles, but they were gone in less than a minute.

    OK. We have 3 minutes of venting. Any longer, and we won’t have enough air left. Hope we can get all of the chasies out.

    I feel a twinge of guilt. They’re sentient. Not overtly evil. Some people even keep one as a pet. But there’s no other choice.

    And then I woke up.

    I don’t always remember dreams. Sometimes not as much detail, but sometimes very elaborate, multiple scenes, etc. Usually not vibrant, like me visualizing or remembering when awake. Usually happens when waking, and usually gone if I go back to sleep. I remembered more when I was younger. Probably because I had untreated sleep apnea in my 20s. (UPPP/Tonsilectomy did wonders for sleep quality.)

    I have others in text files, livejournal, wordpress, facebook, reddit.

    Mock the Victims!

    Wake-up thoughts on wording. It’s slow to process. Not news.

    It’s generally not cool to mock someone for their trauma. Exceptions might exist for individuals you know well, who are not still suffering from it.

    This is the very essense of where “punch up. Don’t punch down.” comes from. So, a comic can get away with mocking themselves, their buddies with permission, and rich assholes.

    Examples: You don’t make dead baby jokes around people who lost a child. You don’t make rape jokes around a group of rape survivors.

    As soon as they mock people whose grandparents lost their whole family to war crimes, it gets dicey, especially if they mock the group for the loss, or stereotypes about the loss, or jokingly blame them for that loss.

    There’s not a threshold for affected percent. It’s about whether the audience empathizes.

    For instance, 1 in 6 women and 1 in 33 men admit to having been raped in the US. More than this have been assaulted, but many keep it inside because society blames victims. So, everyone knows at least one person who’s directly affected.

    A celebrity would probably not be tolerated if they made a lot of jokes demeaning sexual assault victims. It’s raw. People are not “over it” because it’s ongoing.

    Kids murdered in school shootings, also mostly off limits. You can demean the shooters, maybe, but not the survivors and parents. It’s just bad form, and insensitive.

    Some examples of acceptable consequences:

    Self-Yeet declaring “deathcon” against jews, and spreading old-style hateful “they own everything” messages. “Well, it makes sense he’d lose contracts, followers, etc.”

    Schadenfreude over Musk digging his own hole with Twitter? “Great! He deserves it!” People organizing to cancel their Twitter accounts by the hudreds of thousands? “That’s their right.”

    Bliss over the Kentucky student getting kicked out of school and her influencer jobs because of racist tirades while drunk? “Totally on board. She was a little snot anyway.”

    But there is a line in the sand. One exception carved out.

    We have a group where 66% of the members are sexually assaulted. 82% planned suicide, and 40% tried at least once. 44% suffer PTSD. The bullying NEVER ended. The murder rate against this group quadrupled during the previous presidency, as did violent rhetoric against the group.

    You’d think that demeaning this group, might be slightly off limits.

    You’d be wrong.

    Strong support from all classes and other minorities. “Don’t you dare boycott paying your money to this comic. His group has an 8.7% PTSD rate, so HE KNOWS.”

    Doubling down on it, and having other friends come support poking at people with gender dysphoria, or whose internal perception does not match their external presentation at birth?

    Outrage is not allowed. No boycotting allowed. No cancelling memberships allowed. “How dare you try to cancel my beloved Chappell.” “Those people need to grow a spine.”

    The list of when you invoke protected speech status, vs when you nod and say “consequences will get you”, is what defines the bias. A group 7x more vulnerable not getting the same protections you invoke for your favorite group is a sizeable prejudice.