From Day Dreams of a Spaced Out old Man comes

[Deleted54170User]

I looked over the landscape. Snow covered about 70% of it. I haven't mowed any of it in the last 5 years.

 

In fact all the indigenous plant life from around the country has taken over the lot.

 

I still live in the house. After installing a forced air furnace with HEPA filters the minor amounts of dust that seeps in when the water pressure rises and falls. The filters cleaned it out.

 

The pressure from the ground getting water into it raises the pressure under the house's concrete floor during Spring thaw and rainy season. As the pressure rises concrete breaths the dust into the basement rooms where it accumulated under the ground from the dry season and Winter.

 

I never knew that before about concrete. The glazed kind in shops doesn't do it. Not Portland concrete cement mix that hardens when it gets wet either. Which is used for bridges and waterways to keep water from breaking up the concrete. It was the concrete mix for sidewalks someone poured in when they added a drainage pipe and a shower stall.

 

The rough kind is what someone poured into the basement. I guess the builders were not educated about it. Or they might have been poor and wanted to save money.

 

That kind of concrete has veins and air can flow through. The veins are very narrow tubes like the capillaries in our skin. Small dust particles of Arsenic can be ground down so fine it to gets through.

 

After I realized that the concrete floor was breathing when pressures rose and dropped I treated the concrete with some plastic sealant. Water proofing it. While I was putting the sealant in I discovered a vent. A pipe not for a drain. A vent.

 

I could feel the air moving almost like the way water rising and falling makes air move on a beach. I felt it. I examined it more closely with a snake for pulling wires in walls to install electricity sockets.

 

The snake I have has a camera on the end to help find the wires inside the wall so you don't have to cut and replace whole sections of sheet rock or wood paneling.

 

I sent the camera end down the vent. The pipe appeared to be blocked by dirt or rot. It was jammed up a bit too much to clear pushing the camera down and pulling it back a few times.

 

I pulled the camera snake out and pushed a roto-rooter snake for small drains down it. After a few spins I pulled it out and sent the snake camera back down.

 

I don't cuss much, but when I do you can believe I did it for good reason. I remember. I said, F. U. C. K! There's a f.u.c,king cavern under my house. F. U. C. K!

[Deleted54170User]

I decided to test the pipe and determine if what the camera could not. I brought the water hose and a jet sprayer to the vent. I left the water spill in and went into the house and listened at the wall 2 feet from it. I did not hear any gurgles or distant splashing. The water kept flowing into the vent.

 

I went to the tap and turned off the water. I rolled up the 100 foot hose. I decided I was going to dig around. I dug four feet down. The concrete from where it protruded had slats of wood below encasing it on three sides. I stopped and pondered what it could be. What was it for?

 

I searched the archives at the library. They had a book that looked like a miniature of land shrunk down into a convenient map. Hills, bumps of mounds, old roads, buildings markers. I found that the place had been part of three building in the 1800's. A motel/hotel Saloon, an ice house, and a large barn. People traveled by stage coach from Ft Benton where the Steam boats could go no further and travel to the area now known as Black Eagle to get to the river and ride a Steam boat further west along the river.

 

They road the Steam boats up the Missouri, but had to stop and get to the land where I had purchased the property. The barn was for the horse's to rest, for the smithy too.

 

But I didn't know what I know now. I did not know where the three buildings were exactly.

 

For the better part of 2 years I talked to anyone from the area and sought the elders for information. I searched the Internet for more of the history.

 

The old building made of brick with two side way sliding doors which someone tended to but did not mend it's broken wooden doors. Instead someone put corrugated steel to cover the frame hanging there. So much mystery.

 

It has one railroad track up near the ceiling lodged into the bricks and pointed north and south. The roof slants from a brick border at the east end to the west where the rain would flow out into the street.

 

One of the first people I spoke to seemed to be a respectable old man. The first thing I asked of him when we stood in our own yards where the fence on my property divided them was where they got the water for the local community of 1000 people.

 

I had in my hand the contract I had signed and a letter with all the names of the board members of the water district. His name was on it with the others on the board.

 

After I asked him his face went blank. He lost his composure. He smiled at me slyly and implied I might be seeking a way into an exclusive club. After a moments pause I decided not tell him of my find. I clearly knew who he was. Who the paper said.

Then he said he didn't know.

 

With a quiet tone, of a nimble politician, suspicious of my purpose, he said, "All good things come to those who wait." And then he added the wrong attitude with a word that made me realize he thought I was planning a takeover of the lands. I knew he had no idea of what I had discovered. No splashing sounds could be heard when I tested the vent.

 

I knew it wasn't the water source.

 

After a month I discovered the bathing room/utility room tiles on the floor had been corrupted by mold. I stripped them out. I found they extending into the fancy new sheet rock walls. I started tearing out all that had the black crud. I took out the old toilet to peel the tiles from under it. I discovered the toilet did not have a proper wax ring. The person or people who installed it last decided to seal the bowl rim to the tiles instead with silicone.

 

I realized where the crud came from. It had seeped in underneath tiles inside the toilet bowls rims and slowly worked its way to the walls and up the walls on the back side where it could not be seen. I did not dare live there without knowing what it was that i saw when I tore the walls out.

 

I didn't stop working until I had removed all of the corrupt walls. I took out the last of the floor with it and the wall, and tore out everything behind the toilet. I took pictures of my step by step plan to restore the old house.

 

I recorded images of the space where the mold had gotten too. Showed the pictures to find out if it the mold was of the deadly kind. Black mold has a few varieties. A newspaper article appeared in the paper about family that bought a place in the country. The house made them and their children sick. The black mold they had was discovered to be the bad kind. No could tell me if the picture was of that kind. I bagged up a piece of sheet rock covered in it on the backside. I took it to those who should know what the mold kind was.

 

I didn't know about the panic caused by the newspaper until after I showed the sample to them. I understood why they acted the way they did when I showed them the sealed bag protecting them from being exposed. I understood why they didn't identify it. They gave me a line.

 

The person who would know isn't available today.

 

After reading the newspaper article I understood where that person was. He was standing right in the hallway of the offices when I arrived and entered the exit as soon as they mentioned he was not available.

 

Turned out that another place had the same problem. That family was not only sickened, but they were being given the run around by the people that sold it to them. The home inspectors whose names that were on the documents giving the houses a clean bill of health were being sought. Lawsuits were arising.

 

I felt I was not significant enough.

 

I took the responses I got and departed. I went back to the house. Donned the yellow haphazard suit I had miraculously found in a garage sale. I put on the gas mask I had found at a science surplus store. I converted the gas mask for different problems.

 

I finished decontaminating the walls, ceilings, and saturated the concrete flooring in that room with mold eating fungi I purchased that a company I read about sold for clean ups.

 

There were 12 inch building block bricks behind the sheet rock I tore off the north wall. They extended to the west wall up to the corner. What I saw when I opened up the space hidden by the wall behind the toilet that opened up under the stairs to the basement it took me completely by surprise.

[Deleted54170User]

The foundation had another type of material. Stones, uncut, flat as they could be without having been tooled in any way, with mortar between them made in a pot. The old world met the new. Before people used bricks, blocks of stone or tooled rocks to fit.

 

A jigsaw puzzle of two foot long or longer of the flattest rocks they could find to build a foundation. I found books with pictures of the style. The foundation was of the kind always above the ground, never buried.

 

My 80 year old Mom told me her Dad, his brother, and their Father set rocks like that up in a shape and then set the house on them. No mortar just the longest flat rocks they could find. They bought land to ranch on about the year 1900.

 

The barn that was one of the buildings from the local map I studied had such.

 

The same style a foundation with mortar made of mud and stocks of grasses etc. Mortar was necessary. The size of the building required it. The recorded year of the barn existence suggest it was built during the 1800's.

 

The soil around the remains of the old barn was piled up against it outside from the days of the Smelter built in 1903.

 

The weirdest part yet was under my feet next to the double holed building block bricks. I just had not been able to grasp the weirdness of it at the time. I'm still fascinated by the combination of three different type of concrete sections that make up the floor in just the utility/toilet/bathroom.

 

I've not found any way to explain to anyone what I have. Just to think about it causes wonder of likely a before and after which made no sense. I will have to dig up the land around the house next to the foundation to see if what I think is likely.

 

The stone foundation could have been several feet high. A floor could have been poured on dirt higher up so the remaining visible ancient flat stone wall is only exposing 4 feet of it. Soil could have been dumped around both sides of the rocks before someone decided to homestead and use the remains to build on.

 

While I searched the records in the old archives the house had shifted a little. 10 years later the pipe became blocked. The concrete around it cracked.

 

One day I was going to start digging. I tested it to see if the pipe was clear. I discovered it would not allow water to drain quickly down it.

 

2017 we had an Earthquake. 5. 9. It startled me at about midnight one night. I'm just a little bit concerned. While my own plans to dig out the earth around the outside of that pipes concrete table are on hold nature appears to be planning to make changes for me.

[Deleted54170User]

I learned more about concrete when I was trying after I cleaned out the mold covered parts I had to remove. I did not know all the different ways concrete could be used for flooring. I did know how sidewalks, garage floors, and standard methods in some homes basement floors were. The standard smoothing over for inside the basement when dry in the first house I ever saw it done got smoothed so well afterward it got paste put on it and tiles stuck to the floor.

 

I had never paid much attention to glazed concrete floors before. That concrete type floor was what was next to the north wall. The north wall with the two hole building block bricks. When I started to realize what the differences of the utility/bathing/toilet room had on the floor I started to realize just how odd, strange would be a better word, the floor parts combined made me aware of.

 

You might recall I tore out the wall behind the toilet. The toilet was were I was sitting when I realized that the concrete beneath it was glazed. A kind of blue looking glazing colored it. The section of the concrete floor behind the toilet only inches and under the staircase behind the toilet where I opened it up was without glazing. Rough as sidewalk style smooth concrete would be. I had to tear out the wall east of the toilet just beyond the glazed type of concrete was that had a washing machine standing on it. Behind the wall the washing machine hoses and water hose connected valves were was more concrete. Another method was used behind that wall.

 

I got the wall out, the pipes for the hot and cold running water were exposed. There was some of that modern pipes for the washing machines water to empty into. White looking plastic tubes combined together so it looked like someone could not decide whether or not to put an under the sink trap drain section and/or a straight to the floor pipe, and just put them both together.

 

When I got the wall out I found the wall behind it covered with slats. 1 and 1/2 inch by 1/4 inch pieces with plaster between them, nailed to the opposite side of 2" by 4" boards. Old 2 by 4's. Old 2 by 4's were actually 2 by 4 inch boards.

 

I was surprise again when I looked down at the floor beneath and saw that it appeared the glazed concrete was in filled in right up to the base 2 by 4. The biggest surprise was that the concrete was right up against the base 2 by 4 and had a rough bit of concrete that rose up like an ocean wave that splashed again a rock wall and the water sudden froze before it could slide back down. When I looked closer I realized the splash of concrete and sand was pinching in on something else.

 

It was a part of the sheet rock. I had torn out the sheet in sections and upon a closer examination I saw it was embedded at the bottom against the baseboard. The sheet rock was new. The glazed floor section right up to the wall where the splash of sand, tiny pebbles and cement touched the sheet rock confused the heck of me.

 

The glazed part of the floor reached to the exact position behind the solid splash of concrete. It was mostly cement, very small pebbles and sand mixed into the splash rising up the wall. I figured out the builder put the baseboard, the wall board and sheet rock in before the concrete splash could have occurred.

 

Or at least, that is what I first imagined. I had to rip out the bottom of the sheet rock and the baseboard before I could continue. I got another surprise.

 

The baseboard wood was rotten.

 

I dug out the rotten 2 by 4 bit by bit. After I got it out I could see the imprint in the concrete where it was.

 

At first I thought they must have poured fresh concrete and pressed the base board down into it. That didn't make sense.

 

The standard method of securing a 2 by 4 to concrete floors was bolts.

 

I could not make sense of how the 2 by 4 and the sheet rock had gotten pressed against a section of concrete with the little wave of sand, small pebbles, and cement the way it got pressed up against the sheet rock too between the glazed concrete floor section the way the concrete mix did.

[Deleted54170User]

I thought it best to check to make sure the mold had not gotten any further and started removing the section of carpeted closet floor.

Under the carpet was carpet padding. Under that was sheet rock.

The floor was sheet rock nailed to old 2 by 4's.

Old Rotting 2 by 4's.

I pressed on to another section. I tore out the wall on the north face some more too. 4 feet more. Between each 2 by 4 was what appeared to be even newer concrete.

I thought maybe the gas mask's lenses were a bit fogged because the concrete look jagged. I put one hand down on the nearest 2 by 4. I leaned closer down. My gloved hand on the the rotten 2 by 4 pressed harder against it. It crumbled under my weight. I got stabbed by concrete.

Again I found myself cussing.

The concrete was not smoothed down Weirder still the concrete looked like it froze solid before it could completely settled down. Tiny little stalagmites were all over the concrete.

The concrete had points. Sharp little spikes. I thought there might be nails under it, but the points were too thin. I got up and out and went to tend to my wound. I did not want whatever there might be in that pointed cement. A little microscopic germ or worse?

An hour later I returned. I added duct tape to my gloves for better protection.

I bent down to examine the rotten wood. When I was getting into position I noticed something even more odd.

The section of concrete that looked like it was newer.

Could that rotting lumber be nearly 40 years older then the modern lumber by the toilet. The concrete in between the bottom 2 by 4s appeared like it was frozen quickly. It was newer. When I examined space that I tore out the 2 by 4 next to the glazed concrete I found the glazed 4 inches higher and the new concrete a little lower then the modern style glazed section of concrete.

I knocked off a piece of the splashes of concrete attached to the glazed section. The glazed concrete was old. Older than the splashed bit and older then the pointy jagged concrete. I decided measure the differences. After I did with my measuring tape in hand I decided to measure the 2 by 4's.

The 2 by 4s measured out at exactly 2 inches by 4 inches.

I carefully examined the wood 2 by 4s next to the wall. They were as rotten a few inches above the bottom as the bottom boards.

I suspect now that they rotted for two reasons. They were actually 2 inches by 4 inches in size. So they were old before the fresh concrete was poured between them. I figured that they must have absorbed the water from the concrete more quickly.

Now I am wondering if there is another reason the water might have been leeched from the concrete so quickly. Maybe there are segments of wood under the concrete in the closet floor I exposed.

The segments I exposed with that new concrete between them might explain what absorbed the water so quickly that it solidified before it sank down.

The only other thing that makes the kind of ripples and points in liquid is something that causes powerful vibrations.

Something big had to have caused wet concrete to vibrate like that?

Something really big? Or a jack hammer nearby pounding on something solid nearby that was connected to something underneath the wet concrete for several minutes before the concrete dried?

[Deleted54170User]

I decided to replace the toilet's wax ring. At least I would have that minor luxury while continued. I acquired a wax ring at a local hardware store. When I was ready to add the wax ring I realized another oddity.

 

I realized why the last person did what they did. Nothing prepared me for what I had to do and to top off the moment I was suddenly aware I was straining myself. I had to leave or figure out a quick solution to relieve myself. Not urinate, I had to evacuate my intestines.

 

Yeah! It was an uncomfortable few moments. The neighbors already had started taking a dislike in me by that time. I looked around frantically for a solution. I wasn't going to get out of the yellow hap-hazard suit inside the house until I was sure the fungi cleanse I was using to clear the room and the house. I had to go.

 

I leaned to the left. My vision inverted thinking, examining all my prospects. My eyes cleared. I had put a hand on the wall still remaining to the left of me.

 

I saw segments of six inch diameter clay pipes stacked up upon each other. They were partially hidden between the rooms remaining wall and a section of wall with the slats nailed to the inside of more of an older wall. I knew how to put a stove pipe chimney together. I looked at this new item. I realized my hand was on the bottom end of one of the ceramic clay pipes. There was something wrong about it.

 

I realized the long stacked pipes were there to let the sewer air up and out at the top above the roof of the house. I was beginning to feel the strain on my body. As the stress caused me to fear what I would have in my shorts in moments I made a quick exit from the house. I got into my truck and drove to the nearest place where there was a toilet. While I was driving along, with the cramps, I recalled my Mom had to have the sewage pipes replaced years ago because tree roots had burrowed into them caving in the clay drainage pipes. The same kind of pipes I had found where a different kind of pipes should be.

 

While I was in the latrine at the filling station I saw a pipe in the ancient bathroom there that was meant for the sewer vent. The pipes in the basement between the remaining walls was the kind used to let the toilet bowl full of water escape out to the sewer line. Whoever put them in, didn't think that wasn't a bad idea, the way they stacked them made me realize worse.

 

The pipes for smoke or gases to be released from the fire place need to be so the next one above the last has the lower pipe inserted into the pipe above so the above pipe's bottom end provides a sleeve. That way the smoke or gas, travels from the bottom pipe to the inside of the next higher pipe and finds no vent at the lower pipes lip that the smoke or gas can find a way out of and goes on until it reaches the top of the pipes.

 

The person that installed the sewer pipes into the space for the vent stacked them so the sleeve of the bottom clay pipe was at the top and inserted the next pipe with its narrow fitting into it. So the gases of the sewer were able to find an exit at each sleeve along each section of pipe. The person must have realized their mistake, apparently too late though to rearrange them the so the sleeve joint was at the bottom end to keep the smoke or gas from seeping out into the room.

 

The person did their best to fill the upended joints sleeve with cement, concrete cement.

 

When I returned to the house I knew no further reason to continue. I looked at those pipes. I laughed at the crazy way the place was playing out as I disassembled all the parts I had. I think, if I wasn't mad, I was going crazy. I looked down at the hole where the pipe for the toilet waited for the wax ring. I laughed.

 

Sanity grabbed me and shook me. I remembered what I saw that made it impossible to put the wax ring into place. The toilet bowl that had been put in and sealed with silicone around the outside border of the ceramic toilet did not set up so a wax seal would work.

 

The pipe under the bowl had been put in where the glazed concrete existed. The pipe was 1 and 1/2 inches too high out of the floor. The wax ring would not seat when the toilet was restored.

 

The day was young. I surfed the Internet. I learned how to mix concrete. I learned how to make it seal so it could not breath. I went to the hardware store and bought enough material to add a layer of concrete over the top of all 3 different sections of concrete in the utility/toilet/bathroom floor. I brought it back and started to do what I thought would be easy enough. One 5 gallon bucket at a time.

 

I started pouring. I poured around the north east section of the glazed concrete where the pipe stuck out of the floor for the toilet. I barely got the first 5 gallon bucket poured out when I realized I had not done my homework well enough.

 

There wasn't going to be enough to filled the 3 foot square around the toilet. I thought I might be quick enough to mix a second bucket full. Only problem was I needed to work the fresh wet concrete on the floor before I could or...

 

I worked the concrete up and around the toilet's evacuation pipe. As I did I moved all of the concrete that was on the floor in so it was all worked out from the pipe. I worked like a madman trying to save a sinking ship with a hole in the bottom big enough for a cannon ball to fit through. I had to patch around the pipe, just like a sailor in a wood boat might to prepare the existing wood to stick the patch to it so the wood boat didn't sink under all the weight.

 

Because the little frame I built to stop the concrete was 3 feet square the concrete kept flowing away from where I poured it in. You might imagine my sanity slipping too. Because it was. I was frantic.

 

I pushed and shoved the concrete for what seemed like an eternity. I piled it up to the lip of the pipe and struggled to drag the frame boards in closer while it sank back down getting lower. I was desperate.

 

Out of the corner of my left eye I saw the gallon bottle of sealant.

[Deleted54170User]

Pieces of wood I built the boarder with for the first pouring were nearby. In my panic I began picking some of them up. I don't know what possessed me but in a few moments I had puzzled together a wall inside the 3 foot square wall I set up so the concrete would fill it. I needed to give the concrete time to dry. I needed to, to make the floor higher so the pipe for the toilet was the correct height it needed to be so the wax ring would fit properly. I know I wasn't thinking clearly now.

 

What crazed person would stack clay sewer drainage pipe up like metal standard metal stove piping. They definitely stacked the clay pipes the wrong way for letting out smoke or gases. Because of the way the pipes were stacked they let the gases leak into the house at each joint.

 

I realized that while I was struggling there with the concrete I had poured and was madly trying to get it in a new fixed situation. I realized most importantly that every time the sewer gets backed up a flood of gases would fill the basement room and the kitchen directly above the space. I was so determined to have the luxury of showing people I could refurbish a fixer upper.

 

I was focused on having that one little luxury. An in house outhouse and gases from the sewage refinery getting backed up so it stank up the inside of the whole house wasn't important at the moment. Getting the concrete I mixed and poured to set up was.

 

The filters on the gas mask I modified was still protecting me at the time. Breathing in was hurried but slowed. Breathing out was fast. When breathing in while panicking I suspect I would have seen the rubber facing pinched to my face like a surgeons glove. I felt the strain on my lungs. Which added to my panicking state. I wanted to rip the gas mask off. But because I knew at that moment, what I know now, knowing that the filters made it more trying to get air in stopped me. I wildly picked pieces of wood trying each one. One by one I checked to see if they fit into the puzzle I was creating.

 

I glanced up a few times during a moment while I needed to slow my breathing and take a slow deep breath through the gas masks filters. One moment I was picking and placing wood, then looking at the rocks piled together seeming to match up, next to the two hole building block brick.while I was working as fast as I was. The next moment I was focused on sticks made for a wall putting them into a form so concrete would not flow out away from my project.

 

I suddenly realized I was probably just like the person who put all those clay sewer pipes in incorrectly. The person was likely In desperate need to give someone what they wanted and didn't have the correct material to do it.

 

For a moment it seemed like time stood still. I imagine I went crazy. It seemed like I was playing with a pile of mud. Pushing it with my hands and sticking pieces of wood into it. I realized the connection I had with the person who built the sewer's fume pipe chimney. I snapped out of the dream like state.

 

I was improvising.

 

What was going on in my mind, and likely in the person's back when, was the experience children all may have?

 

Anyone who asked me back when I got the place I told I was going to fix the place up and sell it. I felt like I was working to refurbish the place for a good reason.

 

My memories of stories I heard had a little house with a white picket fence a lovely wife and her husband shared. A starter home for someone else, because I was too old in the opinions I got and held in mind. It was a noble cause because I was doing it for someone else.

 

I paused and took in a long slow deep breath through the filters of the gas mask. The cloud from which I viewed cleared a little so I could see down. As the space in the cloud opened up I was ready to quit. I felt my chest heave as the filtered air filled my lungs I nearly coughed up phlegm inside the mask. The sight below seemed to be of a mountain sinking into a muddied lake of water.

 

My eyes cleared, the lenses in the gas mask were cleared of fog, and I felt the stress on me choking me as I began to cry. The fluid filled the sockets and was near flowing over the eyelids. My eyes were clear as I looked at what was at my gloved hands. I wasn't seeing what was there though. I was off my rocker. I lost my fear as my mind reviewed all that I had hoped for, all I had hoped for someone else.

 

Fear of losing my life to poisonous mold, to sewer gases over rode all my adult whims.

 

One by one I sensed the images leaving me. The image of meeting the girl of my dreams, asking her to marry me, building a home for us, having her designs fill it with joy, and that day, when she would tell me we were going to have a baby. I saw a dark round hole and they all seemed to slip down into it. Beneath me where the concrete was I saw what I was doing.

 

I was trying to right some wrong, correct the error of my ways.

 

I could almost hear someone laughing at me, someone sneering in my face. Someone telling me what a failure I was. As defeat began to laugh reality reached out and touched my eyes. The dreams were all gone. I sensed the message from the fool dancing there laughing the bells on his hat and shoes jingling while he sneered, "You're wasting your time".

I stared at the concrete. Had it set up? I stared at it.

 

In the hurried rush I had been in I shoved it, I leveled it, I shoved it some more and leveled it again. When my eyes had cleared I had won. I backed up just a bit and took a look at the height of the pipe. I carefully measured it to be sure the wax ring would fit correctly. It was. The concrete still needed to dry. It still needed the sealant. It hardened enough for me to shave it level one last time.

 

I stood up and looked at the finished project. What I saw stopped me cold. The shape that appeared with the hole inside was oblong.

 

It looked like a tear.

[Deleted54170User]

I sealed all the pipes with special concrete sealant so the fumes from the sewer waste gases could not back up into the house.

 

I decided I was going to have to tear out the walls all the way up to the roof to remove the glazed sewer pipes linked together upside down. I thought about the job doing it. I know it could remove any doubt in my mind that I, or anyone else who might live here, would be safe living in this house.

 

The hardware store has the correct material.

 

I was on my way out to the tool storage when I noted some items leaned up against my fence. New chain link fence pieces that needed to be assembled were on the opposite side of my fence. I saw the neighbor and asked if they were planning to put that fence in with enough space between mine and it so I could work on my fence on the side that was facing their property.

 

The guys wife made it clear they thought my fence was theirs. 80 year old woman and her 81 year old husband had never thought that the fence wasn't on their property. I showed them were the metal bars sticking out of the ground was, that marks whose property the fence was on and they freaked.

 

The people they rented to on the other side of my place were planning to work to modernize my fence too. Neither of them bothered to think that the fence wasn't on their property. They just planned to improve the fence. They would have had to tear out all the old fence posts first.

 

I concluded that they had been living in their homes for so many years before I arrived that they thought they owned everyone and anyone that lived in the neighborhood.

 

The old man was literally making all sorts of hand signs while I was talking to his wife, directing them at me, suggesting that I didn't matter to them. I was just a speck of dust in their life they would wipe off the space as soon as I was done. And get this, He said, "As soon as I was done playing on the property."

 

I've since loaded a lawyer up with two barrels of legal suits. Both for encroachment. The five people sharing the two houses north and south of me with get one lawsuit for premeditated Mental Encroachment and the other lawsuit for actual Physical Encroachment on my property with the intent to steal my fence and use my property.

 

 

The younger lad and his friends living in the southern house all look to be a bunch of home steaders who the neighbors north let the place out to as long as they serve their purposes.

 

I am so excited about the fact I am going to be able to actually use the law that I had to study in college, for a year, just to be able to take the other courses I wanted to major in. I am trembling with excitement.

 

The only way I could lose is if the judicial system is filled with a bunch of incompetent meatheads.

[Deleted54170User]

I was dreaming that I was on the job at one of the volunteer organizations I used to get sent to, to pick up their donations. A priestly looking guy in his sack cloth robe was humoring a girl. I walked up to the check out window, the clerk gave me a half hearted smile when she realized I wasn't a patient so she got to push the button to open the door.

 

I heard the door latch pop when the buzz sound finished.

 

I walked out, pushed the buggy fully of old items. A computer, a monitor, modem, mouse and keyboard with a tag on the monitor that said. Computer still works.

 

I loaded it and all the other stuff. Clothes, shoes, picture frames, and knick-knacks. I looked at my clip board. The computer gear was not listed on it.

 

I wondered if it was a last minute item.

 

I had to go and ask the administrator if there was a mistake or just a last minute adjustment. I walked back in. The zap sound of the door latch added more dull to my dull opinion of the task.

 

I walked by the guy dressed like a priest again. He was doing the same thing again only with a woman older then the hills and twice as dusty.

 

She was fascinated by him and he was pleased to be able to play his little mind reading trick on her.

 

I walked by the tables with people sitting there in the daily room. The sun shone in all the windows. I walked by the windowed room where the staff and nurses had a room. I got to the door to the hall to get to the administrators office. I raised my arm, waved my hand as I looked at the nurse staff member and the buzzer zap and release sound went off for that door.

 

I could see all the way down the hall as I moved through the door and I could hear all the people chatting behind me echoing in the hall until the door closed behind me.

 

The offices with people inside with their doors open replaced the sounds from the big room. I walked to the administrators office door. Raised my hand to knock.

 

The door swung open. The old man grumbled. This computer is useless. It's taking forever to start and I have work to do. Could you bring my old computer back for a moment?

 

I didn't ask him anything about either computer. I nodded my head.

 

I backed out of his office to go get the old one.

 

On my return with the old one. I saw the crowd in the open room. I didn't note them the first time through and just barely noticed the crowded area with people, after I passed by the guy that looked like a priest in an old fashion robe.

 

I was dreaming, asleep dreaming, remember that.

 

I noted that it seemed strange that everyone I passed reminded me of a place I remembered from when I was very young.

 

It seemed strange that I knew what a computer was while I was dreaming, Simply because I didn't know one electric appliance from another back then. I pushed the cart that I had loaded the computer stuff on back to the administrators office. I went up to knock on the door. He swung it open and let me in.

 

I looked on as he spoke.

 

I can't imagine what on Earth is wrong with this thing! It's not even lighting up when I turn on the monitor.

 

Not knowing what a monitor was I just stood there waiting for him to take the old computer and put it to use.

 

I remembered I was being delayed and my mind shifted to my clipboard to see where my next scheduled pick up was.

 

My pencil got loose. It fell to the floor. I bent down to pick it up.

 

While I was kneeling down I saw the one thing I did know about all electrical things that was an obvious requirement. The cord with the plug prongs was laying there on the floor. It was the one to the computer case.

 

Remember! I did not know a thing about computers back then. I did not know that the cord was part of the computer and/or it was the computer case.

 

I picked up my pencil. Stood up. Looked at the administrator. He grumbled a bit.

 

He picked up the phone receiver off the big licorice black clunky old setup. He started talking. I didn't see him dial the phone number or push a button. He was talking though. He waved at me to leave.

 

I was transformed.

 

It's me dreaming. Remember that. Not day dreaming, sleeping dreaming. This is probably one of the longest dream sleep records I remember ever remembering.

 

I was transformed. I saw myself transformed in the dark face of the old computers monitor as I was standing there waiting. I was transformed just as I was about to turn to leave. One second I was wearing winter stocking cap, a plaid winter long sleeve shirt, baggy blue jeans, and winter boots. After the blurry moment ended I was a clean shaven, chubby guy in an immaculate fine dull gray pin stripe suit with a white shirt and gray tie.

 

I don't know why I thought it, but I thought I needed the cart. I needed to get that computer off it.

 

I still thought I was the same guy I remembered me as ( in real life ) when I was just picking up donations.

 

I looked for a place to put his old computer so I could leave. I looked around the room. A small office space with a book shelf covering one wall entirely. I turned my head to look at the desk. It was a mahogany hand carved desk with the sheet of solid black onyx covering its top. I had the feeling it was incredibly familiar.

 

I looked around and saw a tiny table with a flower vase and yellow rose in it. I saw a golf bag and clubs leaned against the table. I felt myself moving the cart so I could put the computer on the desk next to the new one.

 

I turned to look at the administrator. He was gone. I wondered where he went.

 

I remembered that the place was a sanitarium for old people and young military veterans with issues. They did not call them mental problems. They called them, "issues". And I knew none of those people were ever going outside the sanitarium again, ever.

 

Many of them were military retired old infirm veterans. Some were civilians, but not many. I looked at the desk. The computer was gone. The computer on the cart was gone and the cart too.

 

There was a box with a rollodisk, a phone inserted into the left hand of the desk, an old grey silver framed picture with a woman, two children, and dog. That was it. The shiny top had nothing else on it.

 

I looked around. The room was bigger. Solid mahogany walls. A filing cabinet with eight drawers on top of each other and a map of the World on the wall and along side that was a painting of an American Steam Ship sailing away.

 

I looked down at the top of the desk. It was shiny black like the face of a modern LED 65 inch TV set. I reached out and touched the top. It lit up with a request showing for username and password.

 

I awoke just then. I opened my eyes. The room was dark. It was still early morning.

 

My eyes began to focus. I looked around.

 

I remembered the dream like it was still part of my daily routine. I started to get moving to get ready for work. Thinking my daily grind. Dress in plain old clothes, drink a cup of plain old coffee, eat some eggs over easy with two slices of toast, with a glass of orange juice, and meet the woman I worked with at the agency for picking up donations, to get a ride to work.

 

I stopped thinking because I wasn't moving.

 

My eyes had become clearly more adjusted for the dark by then. I could see a man standing in front of me. An old Asian guy whose face looked like freshly cleaned leather.

 

Another guy walked up to his side. He was a fairly normal looking American. Dark brown hair, round face, shaved about 5 foot 8 inches tall, lean build, wiry muscle. Dressed in black slacks and a white sleeveless T-Shirt. The guys arms were well muscled, but his forearms to his wrists looked too large.

 

I heard him say something to the Asian. In English.

 

Maybe you should use your Sinanju, hit him, and bring his memory back!

 

The Asian face seemed like tough stiff old leather, but I could see his expression change from a stone fierce look to a mild, you trying to be funny, look. He pulled a hand out of his lavishly gold laced lavender colored pure silk kimono and pointed one of his long razor sharp steel like fingernails to a small counter space. Remo. Go make him some tea.

 

I looked at them both.

 

Who are you?

 

The old man whispered. Maybe you're right.

 

The lights in the room got dark as I went out.

 

I was in my bedroom.

 

I was sitting up.

 

I pinched myself to make sure I was awake.

 

I didn't feel a thing. But it looked just like my bedroom. I was still dreaming. I was becoming annoyed.

 

The next thing I knew I was standing. I was almost next to the guy in the priestly looking dark brown robe. He was doing the same mind trick to another gal. I had an epiphany just then.

 

The place reminded me of the way all of the children and I were and acted like in Kindergarten.

 

I woke up. This time in the room where I am now.

 

It was 6:45 AM. I wondered what all that dreaming was about. Then it hit me.

 

Everyone I have encountered around and about my property (in real life of the past days and years; to the present) at one time or another all; I have been mentioning in different writings, they all have one thing in common.

 

They have been acting like a bunch of children in Kindergarten.

 

I remember how strange that the one part of my dream was too. I was a fan of a series of books about a guy like the guy I thought I had been transformed into. He worked for the government. A secret order so secret. He ran a sanitarium as a front by day and night. Some times he worked late, but not too often.

 

It was a secret so secret, because he was in charge of the governments most best kept secret. The deadliest secret. The Destroyer.

 

It wasn't strange that I had read every issue.

 

What was strange is that I dreamed about the job of picking up donations from just such a place, on occasion. They did not call it a sanitarium anymore. And then... I dreamed that I was that old guy in the gray suit.

 

I never dreamed any such stuff about that story when I was dreaming at night before one night. The night I awakened in such a fright that the 7 foot by 8 foot comforter on my bed was floating up in the air above my 7 by 7 foot water bed. And I wildly flung myself out of my bed before it came back down to rest on top the bed.

 

That was the first time I ever was so scared. I didn't think it was a dream that frightened me. But I had an urge, a great desire to figure out what caused me to move so fast when I awakened.

 

I eventually realized it must have been something I was dreaming about while asleep at night.

 

I bought a book about dream sleep. I started a journal while I lived in a broken down old house for several more years. But not once, not once, since I successfully started making a journal of my dream sleep, have I dreamed about The Master of Sinanju and his pupil Remo.

 

Both the authors died while I was still reading their novels. The new guy that took over for one of them before William Murphy died, ruined the story by adding stuff that neither Chiun or Remo would wear.

 

The Destroyer series was written by William Murphy and Richard Sapir when I was reading the novels. They added a lot of story information from the New York Times and Wall Street Journal that gave their work a bit of realism.

 

The Destroyer... :devil: The deadliest artist in the craft, Chiun. The Master of Sinanju. The deadliest pupil, Remo Williams. The trainee Assassin of the Master of Sinanju.

 

And I dreamed I was the old guy in the pin striped suit. :laugh:

[Deleted54170User]

Wow! Dream sleep can be a real confusing bundle of images at times. A car, getting into a car, driving the car, parking a car, getting out of the car, walking into a building, sitting in a lobby waiting for the car to get it's 6 month check up. The most confusion part about the dream was. I don't have a white 1960 Buick Convertible with 401 cubic inch with 300 hp motor. I remember one I liked. That was back during the 1970's.

 

My dream reminded me it is near the time for my 6 month check ups. Spring season is getting close here. I need to check my list of things to do before sitting down and forgetting about anything but playing another video game to wait out the rest of the Winter.

 

Hm? Anything I might be forgetting?

 

Push ups, sit ups, squat thrusts, jumping jacks, and chin ups... I knew I was forgetting something.

 

 

Real Life!

Now where did I park my body?

I can see my feet! I have real legs too!

Time to go jogging too! :dance: