Blogger Creative Challenge 239: Thingamajig

Kati's Aluminium tree

When Bob completed his Thingamajig he really felt proud of himself.

“What’s that” asked his neighbour who was looking over the fence. When he got the answer he started to wish he had not asked. He found Bob was a nice neighbour to have, quiet, industrious and always ready to help, even if he did have some strange ideas.

Bob had built his creation in the garden. It was a silent creation. No hammer, no nails, no chiseling, just a creative work.

“Hi Fred” answered Bob, “that is my newest invention.”

“But what does it do Bob” asked Fred, although he soon thought that was not a good question.

Bob was glad that Fred showed interest in his creation. In his monotonous life, he did not have much enjoyment. His wife had left him and was now together with the local milkman. She found Bob was just boring and nothing ever happened. His children decided to move out with their mother. Bob was just not the sort of dad you were proud to talk about. Other fathers were more interesting, visited football matches, and took their children to see an adventure film, or went to the zoo with them. Now Bob had found the meaning of life.

“Fred, it is a thingamajig, it is ideal for contemplating the development of the meaning of life. Or you can mix it with your internal thoughts on dadaism and the direction it will take. Some experts even find it an inspiration in the future developments of urban existence. Personally I do not really hold a lot on that, I find it a soothing example of international connections concerning the solution of problems pertaining to phenomenological psychology.”

“Aha” answered Fred, although he somehow got lost when dadaism was mentioned. Truthfully speaking, Fred did not understand a single word. “I have to go Bob” said Fred, “time for dinner” and he disappeared. Actually he had a feeling that Fred had now lost it, and made a very quick retreat.

“No appreciation of true values” thought Bob and left the garden. He had an important meeting on that evening. He was now attending classes on transcendential meditation. He now lived alone, his wife had left him, his work as mail sorter in the local post office was no longer so rewarding. He found it just plain boring. Since he had constructed his thingamajig, he had found a purpose in life. The key to many doors had been opened. His days of boredom came to an end.

Of course, the fact that an art specialist discovered his Thingamajig and decided to exhibit it in the local art gallery had not yet happened. Yes the future for Bob would be good. Thingamajigs would be produced and eventually in every house one would stand in a garden or in a living room to be
admired by all. What is the truth behind this work of art?

Bob had to smile to himself. He found it excellent for scaring birds in the garden when they wanted to have a peck at the vegetables he was growing. The thingamajig moved to every slight breeze in the air.

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Daily Prompt: Nightmares

Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do you think it meant?

Solothurn Carnival 2007

You mean when I awake bathed in sweat screaming for help? Basically what happens when I sleep is between me and the sheets and I very rarely remember in the morning what it was all about. When a dream (nightmare) takes place, it is very vivid and the feeling is that it exists. Reflecting on a long life of dreams and sleep, one seemed to have left a long lasting impression.

You are lying in bed, it is dark when you open your eyes and a figure is standing in the doorway. Dressed in black of course (all murky frightening figures are dressed in black) and is wearing a hat with a wide brim. You do not even see the features on his face. “Go away” is all you can scream at him, but he just stands there looking in your direction. Although looking is an overstatement, when he has no eyes, mouth or nose, the figure being drenched in darkness and dripping black, you do not know that he is actually focussing you, he is just standing turned in your direction. As I said this was many years ago, not enough to write a best seller about. If I was Bram Stoker I would have written a book to remember for years. I read that Dracula was based on a dream he had.

Strange figures in dreams are always suspect. Generally I suppose you can blame it on eating before bed time, or drinking too much coffee, or perhaps having a problem that you cannot solve. Now if you were living at the time of Sigmund Freud, I am sure he would have explained why you had the dream, but he seemed to blame everything on your mother or an unhappy childhood. I hope my kids do not dream, otherwise it would be my fault. I do not believe that dreams mean anything in particular, they are just a result of the subconscious playing tricks on you. Fragments of life that lodge themselves somewhere in a grey cell.

I am sure my cats dream. I have three. One does not dream. She sleeps twenty-three hours and spends an hour a day looking for somewhere to sleep so she does not have the time to spend on a dream. My blind cat Fluffy, often makes strange noises in his sleep. Perhaps the tuna monster is walking over him. My big fat longhaired black cat, Nera, also dreams. She murmers in her sleep, I am sure she is working out a devious plan to take over the world.

When I have the dream of dreams, I will write a best seller.

Dails Prompt: Nightmares