In last night’s other part of featured dreams, I found pieces of blue, red, yellow and white. Large but lightweight, they seemed to be plastic. As I collected them, I noticed some fit together. 

I next encountered a plaza. After some exploration, I noticed it was a huge board and realized the pieces I’d found could fit on the board. I began organizing, sorting and testing pieces in the way of puzzles, but building structures as tall as myself. Each was either red, yellow, blue, green, et cetera; the colors weren’t mixed in the structures.

Stepping back to gain a greater view of my work, I saw that the pieces I put together had formed people. I realized the pieces were from people and that I could use them, put them together and fix the people. 

The epiphany sent me into grinning delight. I began noticing others walking around and saw I was in a busy city on a sunny day. The people walking around were strangers of all races and classes of life. I could tell which pieces belonged to which person. So I began calling to them, “I can fix you. I know how. I have the pieces that can fix you.”

Then it was on to the other dream, where it took a weird turn.

Perhaps the weirdest turn is that I suspect I’ve dreamed these dreams before. 

The Spot

My long haired beast’s fur was matting again. Letting him sprawl on my lap, I began cutting, sorting, combing and unknotting lumps of fur. Working down his belly toward his tiny pecker, I discovered a black thing.

I could not tell what it was. It wasn’t a tick nor anything else I’d ever seen. It seemed almost like a dimple, yet something black stuck out, and the immediate area around it was discolored.

Calling to my wife, I requested the magnifying glass as Quinn waited and purred. I continued examining the space. There was something there. The horrible fear that wracks pet owners was swelling in me. Cancer. Disease. Not again! Not another! Not little Quinn.

My wife handed me the magnifying glass. She’d also brought a flashlight. Together we bent over and looked.

“What is that?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t say what I was thinking. I was thinking, it looks like a small spacecraft has crashed into my cat’s belly. 

I know, I know, it must be something else.

A Turn Into the Weird

Once again, my dreams took a hard turn into the weird. The one dominates my waking thinking.

There are six lanes of highway. I’m overlooking them with friends. One of these friends is Randy Moore. Randy and I served twenty years in the U.S.A.F. and were together at Onizuka Air Station, Sunnyvale, CA, in the early 1990s. He passed away from colon cancer the month of his sixtieth birthday.

He was alive and the Randy I knew in my dream. The six lanes of traffic have five ‘support lanes’. That’s the only way I can explain it. It’s a fast highway. But, while studying it, Randy and I (and others) realize there’s a huge gap in the road. Basically, it ends in a black chasm.

Then we realize we’re in an enormous cave. Then, we find, oh, wait, the highway continues on the other side of this chasm. The catch is, that’s several hundred yards away. That’s a helluva catch.

So we’re chatting, what a weird design, is it by design, what else could have caused this, and end by saying, “We should stop cars coming down because they can’t make it.” But we were also noting, “They see it. They’re stopping.”

But the driver of an old van guns his engine. Tires screaming, smoke billows out and the vehicle launches down the road into the dark sky. “He’s trying for it,” either Randy or I say.

“He’s not going to make it,” one of us say.

“Oh, wait…maybe it will.”

The van flies through the air like a scene from ‘The A-Team’. We watch.

“He’s not going to make it,” I declare. As I make the statement, a red Ferrari screams past.

“What the hell is he doing?” Randy asks.

I’m amused and appalled. “He’s trying to save the van.”

The Ferrari catches the van as both land on the other side. They bounce and skew sideways before slamming into the cavern wall in a ball of flame.

Randy and I begin wandering the cavern lanes. Examining the structure, we wonder, how will we ever get to the other side.

Today’s Theme Music

Today’s song, from the Cure, came out in the early nineteen nineties. I was fortunate to be stationed at Onizuka Air Station when it did. Originally called Sunnyvale Air Station, it was located on Lockheed acreage that was rented from them for one dollar a year. The Blue Cube dominated the site. I wrote about it in another post.

The location had been renamed in honor of Ellison Onizuka, an astronaut killed in the Challenger disaster. Dedicated to space operations, we were wedged between roads just off of Highway 101. The area was interesting for the Internet boom just underway at the time. Navigator, Yahoo, MapQuest and other new companies were part of our landscape. It was an energetic, prosperous time, and the music coming out seemed to reflect that.

Except for this song. I actually find it repetitious and inane. That’s true about many rock and pop songs, which is why I like Weird Al’s parodies of them. This song seems like audible sedatives. That’s my opinion; you may really enjoy it.

Either way, it’s been stuck in my head since last night. Basically, I realized that I’d passed anniversaries of several major life events. March, 1991, was the first year that I lived in the SF Bay Area/Silicon Valley/Peninsula after returning from duty in Germany. Memories from that period have unearthed songs and invaded my dreams this week.

Here’s the Cure with ‘Friday I’m In Love, from 1992.


A raised warning paw, implying a threat, but actually a bluff.

Example of use: “Don’t worry about Tabitha. When you first reach out to her, she’ll look like she’s going to swat you, but she’s just being preclawtionary. She only hurts paper.”

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