Wednesday’s Theme Music

I think I dreamed I was a woman last night. It was a modern dream, and I seemed to be in a competition, not like Miss U.S.A. or anything, i.e., a beauty pageant, but some game.

I use a lot of qualifiers because not much is clearly remembered. Out of this disjointed morass and the sense that “I have a feeling” came the song, “Hooked On A Feeling”.

The B.J. Thomas (yes, of “Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head” fame) version came out in 1968, when I was twelve. It didn’t do much for this boy but had sufficient air time and exposure that I learned all of its nuances and words. I prefer the Blue Swede version that came out in 1974 (year I graduated high school) and its “oga-chukka, oga, oga” beginning.

Yeah, silly.

I included both version for your convenience. I admit, B.J. had a great voice, and the sitar opening is intriguing, but that oga, oga…come on.

Tuesday’s Theme Music

As I settled down to sleep last night, I found that sleep was coming fast, like I’d opened a door and invited the sandman in. That brought forth amusing memories of Mom talking to me about the sandman when I was a little boy. She also used to sing “Mr Sandman” to me. But after all that thinking and remembering, the Metallica song, “Enter Sandman” (1991) crashed in.

A much different and intense song, I always enjoy its beginning. Then there’s the lyrics:

Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight

Exit: light
Enter: night
Take my hand
We’re off to never never land

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

 

Monday’s Theme Music

“There is freedom within, there is freedom without…”

As I was thinking about my dreams this morning — there’s been a staggering dream surge in the past two weeks — those lyrics from the song by Crowded House, “Don’t Dream It’s Over” (1986), entered my thinking stream.

The song was released at a busy time for me. I was in the military, stationed in South Carolina. I’d traveled a lot that year and the previous year – Egypt, Somalia, Delaware, Florida (multiple times). I’d been assigned to South Carolina (Shaw AFB) in the previous year (1985) after four years in Japan, at Kadena (Okinawa). Then, suddenly, in October, I had notification of a new assignment, for three years in Germany, reporting in December.

Thinking of the dreams and the song just brought all of that surging out of me. Lot of places, lot of flights, a lot of faces, a lot of time away from home and my wife. Since then, I retired from the military (1995) in California and moved to Oregon, worked in start-ups, and then with IBM for fifteen years. It was a chaotic life, but seemed normal.

“Hey now, hey now, don’t dream it’s over. Hey now, hey now, when the world comes in.
They come, they come to build a wall between us. You know they won’t win.”

Yes, but sometimes it feels like an uphill fight to get to where you want to be. Does the battle ever end? I supposed I could simply stop fighting and accept whatever will be.

Yeah, I know, more first world whining. I’ve had more options, freedom, and success than many ever find.  I made those decisions and choices. I wouldn’t change it. It brought me to where I am, for better, for worse.

And it’s not over.

 

 

 

 

The Drawing Dream

The dream began in my high school library. My tenth grade English teacher told us that we were to draw a scene from the library. I announced that I was going to draw something with the Daleks.

That really pleased her. With others watching, I quickly sketched a scene of one of the tables surrounded by book cases, and then drew in two Daleks. The teacher disliked the empty table. She wanted me to put a student in it. I finally relented and drew in one of my classmates. She was embarrassed to be selected, but I shrugged that off.

I added more details, shadows, and textures. The other students watched. The teacher had to leave. I stayed there, with others watching. Other students sat down and drew beside me. Some wanted to copy my drawing. Others wanted me to change my drawing. I wouldn’t.

I was stymied, though; I couldn’t think of a punchline.

That’s how the dream ended.

The Chaotic Collage Dream

As far as I can remember, the dream began with me visiting my aunts and uncles and father. We were across the country somewhere. He needed to have his car driven home and asked me to do it. Sure, I said. He and the rest would fly.

I don’t know what the car was. Sometimes it was an exotic sports car but then it had a huge trunk, where I put several suitcases, along with books. Wherever I drove the car, it attracted a lot of attention.

I was supposed to arrive before Dad, but I was goofing around, playing with the car, and doing other things. When I realized that I was going to be late, I hurried up.

Driving the car down a hill, I passed a number of people. Somewhere going down the hill, I went from being in a car to being on a motorcycle. Going fast, I went up boulders and into the air with people pointing at me and talking about it as I did. Even though I was on the motorcycle and dozens of feet away from them, I could hear the people talking. They were really impressed with what I was doing.

After this huge jump over a boulder that was about twenty feet high (where people didn’t think I could do it), I landed and got off the motorcycle. Putting it into the back of the car, I raced away, passing a long line of people in cars and buses. There were many children on the buses, and some of the buses were school buses.

That traffic was all stopped, and was the opposite direction. As I sped past, they all pointed at me and the car in excitement.

I reached my destination. Even though I’d dawdled and had been running late, I was surprised to learn that I’d beat my Dad and his siblings. They were supposed to have already arrived. I was sort of relieved, too. Then, going into another room, I found them sitting around having drinks and laughing.

I thought I’d already gone through that room and that they hadn’t been there. I asked them, “Did you just get here?” Several replied, “Oh, no.”

Dad said, “No, we got here yesterday. We’ve been here at least a day. Did you just get here?” As I answered yes, he said, “But you left days ago. Where have you been?”

Two of my younger sisters and I ended up together. We were playing separate games. They were looking for game pieces. I noticed my game pieces were missing, too. We started investigating, hey, where did the pieces go? I started finding some and putting things together. But then, I realized that it was time to go. I didn’t want to go, so I tried hurrying. I then began writing. I said, “I need to write. Give me time to write.”

Dad come by. The scene changed. Several of my cousins, Dad, aunts and uncles were there, along with my younger sisters. We were browsing in a well-lit record store. As I said something about the extensive music selection, Dad said, “I’d go for Genesis. I like them.”

I said, “Genesis? You like Genesis?”

“Sure, Genesis, Journey…I like just about all of them.”

That surprised me. I don’t recall Dad ever listening to music or commenting on music or groups. It was strange, because Mom loves music.

Going outside, I found Dad squatting by the curb. He had a new car. Dad loves sports and luxury cars. He’s bought a few economy cars, and will drive anything, but he’s usually in a Corvette (he’s bought four or five of them), Cadillac, or a luxury SUV, these days.

This car seemed to be a Ford Escort. That’s a car that’s been out of production for a while, but this was a new one. Weirdly, though, Dad was painting or applying decals all over the car. I talked to him about it but I don’t remember the conversation, except that he seemed very matter-of-fact about what he was doing, when it was something that I’d never known him to do in his life.

Late for a flight, I headed to an airport. My flight was already boarding. The boarding process was random and chaotic. Seating seemed to be open. Inside the aircraft wasn’t like any aircraft that I’ve ever been in. Seating areas were in clusters of rows. The clusters seemed to be at forty-five degree angles. The seats were orange.

Many were familiar with the process, but I wasn’t. Everyone was rushing in. Confused, I noticed a few guys who seemed to know where they were going and followed them. They went down some steps and hurried into open seats. I followed but then, realizing that it seemed to be the flight deck, I stopped. As flight decks go, it was as wide as a house. The pilots were seated at windows up front but flight attendants were preparing food and drinks at counters on either side. The men I’d followed were seated. Other open seats were available. The seats were light gray. They looked like they were leather.

From behind me, a young boy, maybe ten, said, “Look at that dipshit. He’s going into the cockpit.” Many people laughed.

I turned to a flight attendant. I said, “Can I sit down here?”

My question seemed to surprise her. As she picked up a tray of beverages, she said, “Yes, if there’s an empty seat. And there are.”

Turning around, I said to the little boy, “You’re allowed to sit down here, if there are seats. People are already sitting down here. Now who’s the dipshit?”

We landed. I didn’t know where I’d landed. Well lit, with multiple levels and vast highways weaving in and out of buildings, it seemed like San Francisco with elements of San Mateo (CA), Pittsburgh (PA), Portland (OR), and Frankfurt, Germany. It teemed with people. Most were business people but some were shoppers. Somehow hurrying the place, I figured out where I was supposed to be going (although it was never stated). The next thing I knew, I was in a car and driving.

The dream ended.

It was an exhausting dream.

 

Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s song comes from out of my dream stream. Very involved, with many scenes, one scene featured me in a record story with sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles, and Dad. As I said something about the music selection (which was large), Dad said, “I’d go for Genesis. I like them.”

I said, “Genesis? You like Genesis?”

“Sure, Genesis, Journey…I like just about all of them.”

When I awoke and thought of that part of the dream, “Follow You Follow Me” (1978) popped into the stream. So, here we go.

A Bewildering Dream

My dream began with me searching for things, ordinary things, like canned food. The setting for it was nothing sinister or confusing. It seemed like I was in a pristine housing suburb.

Others began explaining to me that ordinary things weren’t available. Why not? Because of the invasion.

“The what?”

It had to be explained to me that aliens had invaded. Further, everyone was scavenging for supplies because everything was disappearing. I don’t know where I’d been when all of this had happened, but shrugged that off.

While accepting their explanation, I suggested we should still search for food and supplies that could help us. I was confident that we could find things even though everyone else was saying, no, everything is gone.

I couldn’t believe it. There’d been a war here, an invasion? There was no evidence of it. Although I didn’t see many people — I was told that they were all in hiding — nothing was damaged. It was a lovely day, rich with sunshine and warm, fresh air. With so many abandoned houses, I was sure that we could find food and supplies. I coerced a few people into helping me.

Few supplies were to be found, though. I made people take whatever meager stuff we did find, insisting that we could find uses for them. Everyone was downcast and pessimistic; I was being upbeat.

Screams arose. The aliens were coming. People began running in fear. “I see you,” I heard a loud voice.

“Who was that?”

That was the alien giant.

I wanted to see him. He arose above houses, a huge Humpty-dumpty looking balloon. This was the alien threat? “Yes. Hide,” others answered.

Dubious, I took cover with others, ending up in an office building. Continuing to look for supplies, I discovered other people. They’d set up secret camps in abandoned offices and suites. They didn’t want to let me and my group in. “Go away. There’s no room.”

Then, “Aliens are coming.” As that alarm spread, the people in the camps blamed me. “They followed you. You revealed our position. Now we need to find somewhere new.”

Everyone started running up and down the hallways and steps. I remained confused. Who was the alien coming? Humpty-dumpty? He was too big.

“No, the other aliens.”

What? I had to see them, so I waited, lurking by a corner. They entered the hall, angular, tall, and gray, marching two by two.

Seeing them and now knowing more of the threat, I took off, seeking security. Others were still with me. I continued discovering other enclaves of people hiding. Nobody wanted to help anyone else. It dismayed me.

The gray aliens chased us outside where Humpty-dumpty called, “I see you. I’m coming to get you.” We could see him bobbing above the buildings like a giant balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Everyone scattered. There was just me and a red-headed woman now. As we talked about where we could go — she insisted that we couldn’t stay there, but I thought we could find a safe place and start a refugee camp and band together — aircraft flow over.

The alarm went up. Those were alien aircraft. They began shooting people on the ground with red rays that disintegrated them. Everyone scattered anew.

I ended up in a shopping mall, and then a gym. Everywhere I went, the warning was giving that the aliens had entered. Run! Run! People blamed me for being followed.

The woman and I ended up outside. We were running up a lush valley of tall, deep green grass. A stream ran through the valley. Above was the white cement infrastructure of a highway bridge. Others had camped out under the bridge and had fires going.

I was looking ahead, trying to learn where to go. As that happened, like it was taking place on a television screen, and I could see it all, two men ran up and grabbed the woman behind me. I didn’t know. I kept walking. Hand over her mouth, they dragged her away, then leaped onto horses and rode away. That’s when I turned around and realized that she’d been taken.

I was shocked, and I was alone. Going forward to what I thought was safety, a man came out. Half-naked, white, he had a muscular torso and shoulders. His disheveled hair was long and brown.

I said, “They took my friend.” I wanted to go back for her.

He gestured with his hand for me to follow him. I thought for a moment that he was a centaur. Then I realized that he was. As he walked, I followed. I realized that he was going to explain everything and help me.

The dream ended.

 

Grappling with Dreams

My recent series of dreams have involved structures and family. Two that stand out were about my father and my in-laws.

The dream about my father had bronze red overtones to everything. We were underground, in a cave. Alive (as he is), he was selecting his coffin and burial site. His burial site was a strange building. It had been some sort of business. I was asking him, “This is where you want to be buried?” It seemed so bizarre to me.

Dad barely took notice of my question. He was busy organizing his burial process and closing the deal for the building. Passing out leaflets (which were red), he told me, “You’re one of the pallbearers but you won’t be carrying me.”

I said, “Where is this place?” Someone pointed out a map on wall. I went over to the map and studied it, determining that it was on the California-Nevada border. Knowing where it was, I stepped outside to see it. I discovered I was standing on top of a hill. Below was a huge quarry operation. Shaped in a circle or oval, it was miles wide.

“This is a mine,” I said, looking for Dad. “Why would you want to be buried in a mine?”

The dream ended.

The next night, I dreamed that I was visiting with my sister-in-law and her husband. Other relatives from my wife’s side were present, as was my wife. My mother- and father-in-law have both passed away, and we were at their old home. Only this home was nothing like their home.

Everyone was turning to me and saying, “What should we do with this?” The house was like an faintly familiar maze of rooms and additions. I told everyone, “We need to determine what we have.” Everyone agreed to that, but asked, “How?”

I said, “Well, first, we’ll need to explore.”

Officials came up to us to talk about the house and our plans. I told them of my plan, and they approved. They then said that I should contact a specific person. While he was a teammate, we’d never been close and he was a year behind me. “He’ll certify the findings for you,” the officials said.

I agreed to do that. Then I began leading the family around the dwelling. I said, “I’m going to turn on light switches. Everyone watch to see what lights up. We need to open every door and find every switch.” All agreed.

I did as planned. Whenever I opened a door, I’d find the switch and turn on the lights. Surprising reveals followed. Old rooms and additions that we didn’t know about were revealed. Some were old offices, with filing cabinets and seats. Although old, they showed signs of recent use. Scenes like this, of different rooms that we didn’t know about, happened again and again.

Finished, we went outside. My sister-in-law’s husband came up to me. He said, “Now you know what we faced. Not so easy, is it?” He was laughing, and agreeing, I laughed, too.

Studying the house, I said, “I never knew that it looked like this.” It was a sprawling, eclectic design of multiple levels. Many were new and some were old. As I looked at it, I said, “I know what to do.”

The dream ended.

I’ve dreamed about these in-laws a few times in the past two weeks. In other dreams, I was driving them. I’ve dreamed about my wife’s parents’ home numerous times in the past few years, but the dream and home were always different. The commonality is always that the house surprises me, I’m exploring it, and everyone is looking at me to decide what to do.

 

Monday’s Theme Music

I was standing in my grass in my bare feet, breathing the morning air, looking around and remembering my dream. A shaft of sunshine found me, or I found it. I called the cat, Meep, aka the Ginger Prince, ‘real name’ Papi, and he came up and over the fence, flying at me with heroic music. I was thinking about change still, so some of the lyrics to “Change” by Blind Melon (1992) chugged into the stream.

And when you feel life ain’t worth living
You’ve got to stand up, and take a look around
And you look up, way to the sky
And when your deepest thoughts are broken
Keep on dreamin’, boy
‘Cause when you stop dreamin’, it’s time to die

h/t to Genius.com

I remembered the words well enough but like copying and pasting lyrics sites like Genius.com to get them correct. I continue dreaming in the nocturnal sense and the hopeful sense of pursuing goals. I’m always looking at the sky.

I don’t have any broken dreams, just dreams refined and postponed. I feel that I should note that Shannon Hoon, who wrote and sang “Change” passed away from a drug overdose when he was 28, just as they found greater success. The song was released well before his death, but I listen to it differently after he died.

Cheers

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