The Dream

Last night I had a dream, an odd dream. As soon as the dream ended I woke up and thought to myself, "Perhaps I should write this down." But, I was tired and decided that if the dream was of any importance I would remember it in the morning. And I did. Here is the dream.

Scene 1: I find myself in a large room, a basketball court, a gym. As I later discovered it was a church's gym. Next to me stands a small boy and in front of me is a crowd of teenagers, or perhaps they were kids. I'm not sure. The one thing I am sure of is they were angry and they were violent. They wanted to kill the kid that was standing next to me. I pleaded with them that this was wrong, that they should just leave the kid alone. I stepped in front of the kid but it was no good. There were too many of them. They pushed me out of the way and attacked the kid. Throwing him to the ground they kicked him in his side, beating him mercilessly until he was dead.

Scene 2: It's the next day and I find myself in the same church. This time I'm in a smaller room, most likely a Sunday School room that comes off of a longer hallway. My sister Faith is there and I'm telling her what I saw and asking if I should tell someone. She is apparently more logical than I am and says yes. We walk down the hall and into the church entrance way. I can see people in the auditorium and I'm not sure if church was just starting on ending. I find my father and tell him what I saw. He suggest I tell one of the pastors but since they are not available I tell the person handing out the flyers, she is related to the pastors and that somehow makes her in charge. I pull her aside and tell her what had happened. "I think it happened here, here at the church, I think. " I tell her. I'm visibly upset and a bit disoriented.

Scene 3: I'm in a white van, my father is driving. We are in a caravan of 3 white vans. The other two are in front of us, the one in the very front being different than the others. As we pull up to a small house I look out the window and see 12 white donkeys standing in two rows, staggered inward. They look ghostly. It scares me and I turn my head but when I look back they are gone. I don't remember counting the donkeys but for some reason when I wake up I think that there were 12. The next thing I know we are in the house and something happens. I see something. Maybe a ghost. I'm not sure. I can't remember anything after this point. I can't remember what happens inside the house.

So, what does it mean? Why did I have this dream? Why 12 white donkeys? Why was that kid beaten to death at church? What happened in the house? Any ideas?

Existence - Predestined or Not

Would I exist had my parents never met? Biologically I am a combination of both of their genes but are we related spiritually? Do my soul and spirit share their spiritual DNA? Would my spirit exist in another body had they never found each other? Was I destined to exist one way or another or was this the only way?

I think about these things when I hear people who had premarital sex and in turn have a child say things like, "But it if had not been for them I never would have had my baby." Perhaps they wouldn't have had that baby but would that person have existed anyways, somewhere, somehow. Perhaps not. Maybe it doesn't matter. I don't know. What do you think?

Not just a Survivor

Two. That's the number of times I've sent audition videos in to Survivor. I used to be a huge fan. In the course of over 10 years I rarely missed a show. I wanted so badly to be on that show. And after every season a good number of the props would go up for auction on eBay (another one of my favorite things.) Unfortunately for me, the prices that the props brought were always outrageous. Today, however, I finally bought some. A guy on craigslist sold me props that he had previously paid over $1,700 for for $100. That's what you call depreciation.

Can you believe that God baited me with Survivor props? He did and that's how I met Bob, at least that's what we are going to call him in this blog. Bob was 50 years old, overweight, a slow talker with glassy eyes and Bob wanted to talk, so we talked. Some people have no one to talk to. I have the feeling that a lot of people have given up on Bob. Most people probably consider him to be a lost cause. Bob was selling all of his stuff because he was being foreclosed on and had no where to go. He hadn't paid his mortgage in months and the IRS was after him for back taxes. He had spent all of the money that he had and all of the money that he didn't have. Cash advances, credit cards, bank accounts, all exhausted. $250,000 spent on crack. He told me that he wasn't smoking crack anymore but was now addicted to prescription drugs. He had taken so many for so long they didn't do much for him anymore. In fact, he had taken some a few hours ago. On top of his drug problems he had mental issues, suffered from depression, and had physical problems. I could hear the hopelessness in every word. He said that when he ran out of money he would probably end up overdosing and that would be the end of him. He would have no money and he would have no home so what was the point?

Bob needed someone to listen. He also needed someone to encourage him and at that moment in time, that person was me. I told him that there is hope and that no matter how bad he thinks his life is, no matter how little he ends up having, there were people in the world who are much worse off than him. I told him about the kids that I had met in India, homeless and like him, drug addicted. I told him about the happy families that lived in houses smaller than his garage. He told me that he didn't think he would live until he was 30 and now that he was 50 but he was certain that he couldn't possibly live much longer. I told him he was wrong the first time and perhaps he would be saying the same thing at 75.

"You can make it," I said.
"You think," he replied.
"Absolutely."

Say a prayer for Bob (even though that's not his real name God will know who your talking about.) I invited him to church and you never know. He could come. In God's eyes there's no such thing as a lost cause.

Your so old that...

I just want to apologize for this post in advance. I went to a concert and fireworks at the park tonight and spent a lot of time thinking of old jokes. I really do love old people.

They announced from the stage that Green Township was celebrating their 200th anniversary this year. I'm pretty sure that some of the folks in the audience were founding members. I couldn't help but to wonder how all of these people were going to stay up late enough to watch fireworks. Somewhere there's a nursing home with a full staff being paid time and a half to take care of no one. Seriously though, there were a lot of single chicks there. Strangely they all had the same nickname, Great Grandma. If you like short term relationships than this was the perfect place to pick up chicks. Pretty much any relationship is a short term when your that old. Some of them were pretty lively though. I saw a few dancing or as I heard one man quip, "Getting his moneys worth from his new hips." They had a pharmacist working the beer booth . The last think you want at a concert is for half of your audience to go into cardiac arrest from a bad reaction between their medication and alcohol. If I was more of an entrepreneur I would have rented two booths. The first one would have sold old fashioned salt water taffy, the second one, denture cream. There was a cover band playing oldies for a lot of the time. Or as the guy behind me called it, "the devils music." I tend to agree.

Capture Cincinnati

So I have a lot of friends who are great photographers and have fancy digital SLR cameras and lens (some of which cost slightly more than my car). I however have a Fujifilm Finepix J10. That's right, give it up for the point and shoot. My cameras two best features are it fits in my pocket and I wrote it off on my taxes. Anyhow, Capture Cincinnati is a book of Cincinnatis best photography. To get in the book you need votes. So, after looking through my pictures, and doing exstensive color correction in Photoshop, I entered a few. So, if you feel so inclined, vote for one or two at this link.
http://www.capturecincinnati.com/people/danthoms

If not, here are the pictures for your enjoyment.

Why the h*** did you go and do that for?

Have you ever heard or participated in a conversation that just made you say huh? Tonight I had the pleasure of hearing one of the funniest things I've heard in a long time. First a little background. For those of you who know me you know that I take my neighbors munchkins to kids church every week. Well, their oldest sister Nicole just graduated from high school so she was having a graduation party tonight. I went, it was fun. Here are the characters involved in this conversation, Nicole's Grandpa, Grandpa's Mother (Great Grandma), and Nicole's aunt. Got that, here we go.

Grandpa: I work with a guy who has a ton of tattoos. He has them up his arms, his neck, and his face has a bunch of piercings, all over.
Aunt: What about your piercing dad?
Great Grandma: Whaaaat?
Grandpa: I told you, right?
Great Grandma: No, what are you talking about?
Aunts: (laughter)
Aunt: You never told your mom about your piercing? Tell her.
Grandpa: I have my nipple pierced?
Great Grandma: What?
Aunt: Grandma, he has his nipple pierced.
Great Grandma: What? Are you kidding with me? Are you pulling a trick on me?
Aunt: No it's true, he shows it to everyone, show her?
Grandpa: No I don't want to show her. Yea it's true, I have my nipple pierced. It's right here. (pats chest)
Great Grandma: Why the h*** did you go and do something like that for? You hate pain.
Grandpa: Well she has all kinds of piercings (pointing to his daughter) so I figured, hey why not.
Great Grandma: When did you go and get that done?
Grandpa: I've had it for about 5 years I think.
Aunt: Uh oh, dad's in trouble. (lots and lots of laughter)

Happy Fathers Day

When I was at the store looking for a Fathers Day card, the lady next to me said she wanted one that said, "Thanks for nothing mother f****r." I told her she may have to make that one herself. She said it would require too much effort. She bought a different one instead.

I'm glad I have an awesome dad who continues to give me reasons to be thankful. Happy Fathers Day everyone.

I'm a Gambler?

Did you know that there are 13.2 million uninsured young adults in America? This is a crisis. The government has to do something about this. How can anyone possibly live without health insurance? Hi, my name's Dan and I don't have health insurance. The thing is, I don't want health insurance.

Let's look at this logically. Life is risk vs. benefit. Life is a gamble. Health insurance is a business, not a charitable organization there to help. When you pay your health insurance bill they are running a risk vs benefits analysis of your situation. They are betting that you will not use your insurance enough to make it unprofitable for them and you are betting that you will. The insurance company is betting that you will not get sick and you are betting that you will. The only way to win is to get sick or have an accident.

This brings us to universal health care, or forcing everyone to buy health insurance. I heard an advocate say that the only way to get insurance prices down was to force young people to carry health insurance. They stated that currently only the old and the sick are buying insurance which drives the prices up. If young, healthy people also bought it that would bring the average price down. Well no kidding. Forcing people to buy a service that they won't use will bring the average price down? That sounds logical. The only problem is your FORCING PEOPLE TO BUY SOMETHING THEY WON'T USE. Am I the only one who sees a problem with this logic?

END OF RANT

Welcome to Your Funeral

If you died today how many people would take an unpaid day from work to go to your funeral? I think about these things. If your answer is 5% of your facebook friends than perhaps your not living your life to its full potential. I like to think (rather its true or not) that they would have to rent out an auditorium to hold all of my mourners. I like to think that the city of Cincinnati's economy would suffer that day because everyone would be to busy crying. What would your eulogy sound like? Would the speaker have to fabricate positive qualities or would they have to give him a time limit because he had so many nice things to say? Did you impact anyone life this week? Is the world a better place because your here. Is the way that your living today worth celebrating tomorrow? What would your funeral look like?

Perspective

Perspective is a beautiful thing. I've been in church for 28 years so I've heard every reason why people "can't make it" to church. All so often "can't make it" translates into "don't want to make it" and to me that's sad. A week or two ago Pastor Jim found something out about a couple of the kids who attend the Vineyard Westside's kids church. He found out that they walk to church. Ok, so a lot of people walk. The thing is, these kids don't live that close to the church. It takes them an hour of walking to get there. Not only do they walk an hour, they are consistently early. They attend the early service, are early for it, and they walk an hour to get there. I think that helps to put the "I can't make it" attitude into perspective. So, "can you" make it this week?

(The kids in this story don't have to walk anymore. Pastor Jim picks them up.)

Moment by Moment

I'm the oldest of five kids. Ok, that statement isn't 100% factual. There are five of us siblings but only one is still a kid (no its not me). Only one is still a minor, its strange to think about. Some times my life feels like a bit of a blur. One of my little sisters got married last week and the other one is getting married within a month. Didn't they just graduate from high school, grade school, learn to walk? How is it that we all grew up so fast? Even though I'm aging moment by moment I never feel any older. I guess it's all of those moments. They come and go so quickly and before you know it your all grown up. I used to live in a big house full of people. But that was moments ago. Now most of them have moved out to start their own adult lives. I used to share bunk beds with some kid but now I only see him once a week at the most. There used to be a lady who made me dinner. Now I have a microwave. I still visit her though. There used to be this man who would drive me places. Now, occasionally he'll help me pick up a piece of furniture from an auction. There used to be these 3 little brats who played with barbies. No more barbies. So many moments, all them gone, all of them still waiting to happen. Life happens one moment at a time.

Do you know Frank? (the answer is no)

You don't know Frank. If you think that you that you know Frank than your probably wrong because I don't think you do. Unlike you, I do know Frank. Frank is 82 years old (as he pointed out he is the opposite age of me 28). I know Frank from estate auctions. I've been going to auctions for 10 years and he has been going for, well, a lot longer than that. Frank and I talk a lot at auctions. 99% of the stuff sold is of no interest to either of us. Here is the story that he told me today.

"After the war I stayed in Japan for a while rebuilding stuff. I was in charge of 50 men. Every morning I would got to the Japaneses prison camp and pick 50 guys. They would all come out and stand in perfect lines and I would pick the ones I wanted. We had guards but we didn't even really need them. These were trustworthy guys. Some of them were just kids. You know the Japanese had kids fighting for them? They always wanted me to pick them for my group. You know why? Because they knew that I went fishin. Yep, every night I would steal a duck. You know what a duck is? It's one of those vehicles that can go on land or water. I don't know how they didn't hear me stealing that thing every night. It was huge, and loud. They had to have known. Anyhow, I would always take a few of the prisoners with me. We would take that thing out on the lake and throw in a stick of dynamite. Then, the guys would all jump out and get the fish. The dynamite usually killed the fish and they would float to the top. If their bladder bursts they start to sink so you have to be quick. We started off just using one stick but after a while we got up to using a whole case every night. We got a lot of fish that way. Those guys would be throwing fish up in the boat left and right. It was good fish."