Category: Dreams

Thursday Theme Music – A Twofer!

Okay, don’t know why the stream introduced this song today. See, the stream works in mysterious ways. See, right there, the stream immediately wants to flow with another song. Therefore, we’ll have *drumroll* A THURSDAY TWOfer.

First up, we have a 1964 entry, the Rolling Stones covering “Time Is on My Side”. As I wrote, I don’t know why I’m streaming it. I was eight when it came out, but I’m familiar with the song because I have seven or eight Stones CDs, and it’s on one or two of ’em. I don’t think my dreams prompted this stream. Dreams were strange — of course, yeah? — and included muddy water and male relatives from my wife’s side of the tree. Nothin’ ’bout time was featured, but it’s stuck in me head and must be released.

The second, almost naturally, has to be “Mysterious Ways” by U2 (1991). You see how that’s all connected, yeah? Sure.

Let it rock, let it roll. (And that triggered a THIRD song, but we’ll stop now.) Hope one of them works for your theme song today. If you got another, get yer ya-yas out, and let me know.

 

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

I almost titled this piece, “Monday’s Theme Music”. It feels like Monday. I blame my dreams for that. In one dream, I was living by a calendar, taking lessons, learning, and pushing to achieve goals based on the calendar. I awoke exhausted and confused.

Meanwhile, as many have noted, the Notre Damen Cathedral fire is terrible. As others have pointed out, hundreds of millions of dollars have poured in to repair the building, money not shared to address many world problems. How money is shared — and released, as one billionaire put it — is indicative of our wealthy population’s general senses of duty and caring toward other humans. Ain’t none of us surprised by it.

Of course, the Catholic Church itself isn’t a poor entity, either. They hold onto their treasures because those treasures are part of their history. Meanwhile…people suffer. Guess that’s part of their history, too, then, innit?

It all makes me bang my head, from the exhausting dream of relentlessly chasing and proving knowledge and attempting to reach higher goals, to the craziness seen in the world, as delivered by the news.

So, here it is, “Metal Health” by Quiet Riot (1983). Feel free to bang your head.

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The Silent Dream

I dreamed I was walking on a sidewalk by a city street. It seemed familiar. Across the street was a cemetery. Heavy, old trees protect the graves and mossy, tilted head stones. Squirrels, jays, and robins dash around the cemetery lawn. The grass is high and rich with tiny, white flowers. I can see that the wind is blowing.

As I notice the waving grass and tree branches, I realize that I don’t hear anything. That disturbs me. It’s unnerving. I’m walking, and cars are passing, but it’s all a silent movie. I see birds but I don’t hear them. A jet flying overhead leaves chemtrails but not sound.

Turning a corner, I come up on an intersection and watch others walking and talking. They seem to be hearing. Cars and trucks pass without a sound. Red, amber, and blue lights flashing, a firetruck silently passes.

The wind grows stronger, and it’s more difficult to walk or even stand. I can feel the sun’s warmth on me. In fact, I feel too hot, and sweat sheathes my back. Ah, so not all of my senses are affected. I can feel heat and the wind, and I see everything going on.

Turning into the wind, I test my sense of smell. Rich odors of burning marijuana, baked goods, cut grass, exhaust gases, and wet earth reach me. I smile as I smell them. Relief creeps in. I can smell things. I’m only not hearing. Why can’t I hear?

A weird epiphany that the wind of change is blowing strikes me. As I stand and think about that, I suddenly hear everything going on. It was like the world had been muted, and now it was un-muted. Listening, I walk back toward the intersection.

So the dream ends, with me standing at the intersection, listening and watching everything around me, and thinking. When I awaken, I stay in bed, thinking and listening, going through a memory of the dream.

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A Dad Dream

I dreamed my Dad and I were in a store, but a few caveats are needed to qualify this. Much younger, I was taller than I’ve ever been. Dad wasn’t my true father but a colonel I’d worked for in the Air Force. This colonel and I didn’t get along well. Fortunately, he wasn’t in my chain of command. He was the Deputy Base Commander, though, so I had encounters with him almost every day. Another colonel that I was buddies with told me that the other colonel had changed through the years. He said, “He used to seem so happy and had so much fun. Now he barely wants to smile.”

That was my Dad in this dream, not at all like my real Dad. Dream Dad was retired, and I was still active, and outranked him. Neither of us were in uniforms, though. These were matters that I knew.

We were at a Home Depot shopping for plants. Dad wanted to plant flowers at his house. I was there, assisting, following him around. Dad had become forgetful and clutzy. He kept knocking things over. I was concerned, amused, and exasperated as I followed him around and watched the Home Depot personnel cleaning up after his messes.

Dad and I were chatting through all of this, mostly about what he was doing, from what I remember. I began suggesting that we leave but Dad wasn’t ready. It went like this, me following him around as he carried a basket, looking for plants and knocking things over, until I quit following him and drifted away. After I did that, I heard a loud crash. Knowing that he was behind it, I trotted into another area.

A clerk stopped me. “Some hazardous stuff has been spilled,” he said. “We need to clean it up before anyone can go in.”

I looked into the room and saw my dream father standing to one side not far away. Clerks and customers were standing around the perimeter, arms folded, leaning against shelves, as two others cleaned up a mess in the middle.

“Just tell me this,” I said to the clerk. I pointed at Dad. “Did he cause this?” As the clerk nodded, I smiled and said, “That’s what I thought.”

The dream ended.

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The Letters Dream

I laughed in the dream at this dream because I felt an immediate understanding and it was funny to me.

The setting was very vague. Others were there and I engaged with them, but all of them were outside of the dream cam’s view. Sometimes I was outside on a green hill; other times, I was indoors. The indoors settings varied from being a restaurant, coffee shop, and office.

I was doing two primary things in the dream. One, words would come up, and I was putting them into order. I thought at first that they should be alphabetized, but then I thought that they should be ordered by association. In parallel to this, I was playing a computer game called “Word Whomp”. Seven letters are provided and you make words out of them while the clock is ticking. So I was making words on the computer game and ordering words off to the other side. Then I began taking the words that I was supposed to be ordering and started putting them into the game. The words were accepted, even though they weren’t made of the letters provided. Throughout this, I was talking with people off-stage.

It was at this point in the dream that I paused to wonder about what was going on. My first thought was, why am I organizing words like this? Hasn’t this already been done in items like dictionaries? Then I pondered why the game was letting me put in words that didn’t have the letters.

That’s when I laughed in the dream. I thought it was about the writing process and angst. And though I laughed and knew I was playing the game right and doing things the way they’re not supposed to be done, I kept going and had myself a fun time.

Three words remained in my memory from the dream: lacing, facing, and gracing.

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The Church Tam Dream

* I always thought a tam is a hat. The use in this context is from the dream.

A friend of mine (L) was beside me. He’s exactly how he now is, about twenty-five years older than me, a retired, silver-haired engineer coping with COPD.

We were on a wide, well-paved asphalt street lined with trees. I said, “Where’s Church Street?”

He said, “Here. You’re on it. This is Church Tam.”

“Church Tam?” The term confused me.

L said, “That’s why we were confused. You’re asking how to find the place where you are.”

I was still thinking about that when he moved off with a shoulder shift, nod, and wave that signified good-bye. At that point, I saw a white Church off to one side. It was set well-back on a sloping green lawn. Large and simple, it looked like many of the unassuming, clean-lined churches I’ve seen throughout my lifetime.

I was more interested in another set of buildings that were further back and off to one side. Built of cinnamon-orange bricks and of a straightforward, square design, the two buildings were in tandem, with a smaller one in front of the taller one. Whether I knew it or heard it, I knew that the building in the back hadn’t been opened in many years and that it held secrets and historic information. Wanting to explore it, I followed a sidewalk to the front door.

Large, paneled windows were visible on each. As I walked up to the front door, I saw movement behind the windows. A tall man was looking out at me as he moved toward the front door. Half-turning, he waved to others behind him. Two children trotted after him, followed by a woman.

Opening the door, he stepped out. Tall, slender and white, his hair and beard were a dark gray. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and blue jeans.

The children came up as he said, “Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.” As he finished that, a woman in an apron came out, wiping her hands as she joined the other three.

I didn’t say anything but looked at the group and building. I was wondering how to get into the big building to learn its secrets. The man said, “Come on in. We have room for you and food.”

“Thank you,” I said. He and I shook hands. The children were shy but seemed to know me. The woman smiled and then went into the house.

We followed her in. She was going down a polished, dark wood hall, but the man and I stopped in a large front room sparsely furnished with a fireplace, thick wooden coffee table, and several leather armchairs. He repeated his welcome. I protested that I couldn’t stay with him and that I thought he was mistaken about expecting me because I’d just decided to come here on an impulse. He laughed at that, telling me, “No, we’ve been expecting you.” Telling me that he’d been right back, he went down the hall.

I was left alone. Looking around, I saw pale-green double doors set in a stone wall. Sconces were on either side. Like cathedral doors, they were pointed at the top of the arc where they met. They were painted, but it looked like a century had passed since it was last painted. The doors were hinged, with a large keyhole in the middle.

Giggling, the children shuffled up, but stayed back. They talked in tandem, telling me that people couldn’t go into the other place because it had a lot of secret and important treasures and things in it, and that they’d never been allowed in it.

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m here. I want to go in.”

“You can’t,” the children said. “Nobody can. Nobody’s allowed to go in there.”

I said, “Someone must go in there. Does anyone have the key?”

“Yes,” one child and then the other said with thoughtful looks. “My Dad,” the boy said. “He has the key.”

“Maybe if I ask him nice, he’ll let me in,” I said.

As I was saying this, the man approached. In one hand was a large ring of keys. On his other palm was a single key. “Here you go,” he said. “I think this is what you’re looking for.”

The dream ended.

***

I had this dream four days ago as part of a dream bomb that lasted several days. Its impact was more sharply felt than the rest.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme music entered my stream due to some nocturnal emissions.

Nocturnal emissions, if you don’t know, is also known as phantom writing. It’s the practice of writing in your bed when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

I’d been sleeping when both calf muscles seized, throwing me awake. After my wife and I rubbed the spasm with some toe-flexing help, I went through the dream I’d been in and then my thoughts drifted into the novel in progress. Turning to what’s happening in the novel, I thought, “What are these deeds? Who is doing them?”

That created an easy transition to “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC (1976). With that rocking my head, sleep easily pulled me in.

Sing along if it moves you. The words are easy to learn.

 

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The Nap Dream

I was reading a book when sleep ambushed me. I dreamed then that I was in a car, looking up at its pewter grey ceiling. Tucked and curved, the ceiling was made of the material sometimes called mouse fur.

The dome light hove into view. As I watched, the dome light changed into an eye. It blinked once. The iris was blue but changed into grey. The pupil enlarged. A second later, I floated up into the pupil. I awoke as I passed into its darkness.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

This song, “Still the Same” by Bob Seger (1978) has been on a continuous stream since last night, looping through my conscious mind yesterday evening, through some of my dreams, and on through today.

The dream part was weird and laughable. I’m with others. Confusion is like a drug in my blood. We’re on some mission to get out of a jungle-like setting but I don’t know where we’re going. Sweat, grease, and stinging insects plague me. It seems like we’re on the verge of escaping the jungle. I’m dubious because I believed that before. Others are more optimistic but it seems like they’re pretending.

A quiet dusk is dropping around us. Darkness is seizing the jungle behind us, yet we’re reluctant to move on. I recognize it’s because we’re all tired but we’re not at a good place to stop.

I thought I heard something and then another voiced that same belief. We stop to listen, standing like mannequins. Then I heard, “There you stood, everybody watched you play. I just turned and walked away. I had nothing left to say.” The descending piano followed.

“That’s Bob Seger,” I said. “”Still the Same.” Where’s that coming from?”

No one answered. We instead lapsed into a brief and meandering conversation about what to do.

I didn’t remember the dream when I first awoke. After being up for a little bit, I heard “Still the Same” playing in my mind, and that triggered the dream recall. I was all, WTF?

So I’m posting the song here to purge it from my head. Thanks for taking it on for me. Cheers

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The Road-Show Dream

My wife and I were traveling in a car. I had a sense that we were changing locations, moving to somewhere new, an exciting prospect.

Along the way, we stopped in a town. It was pre-arranged for us to meet with a local musical band. My wife and I were to sing with them that evening. We sat with the musicians and coordinated the set list and discussed when we would arrive and what else was required for our performance. Part of the latter entailed doing more work, including find the song lyrics to several songs.

After that, we had time to kill, so we first went around the town a bit, just being tourists, and then got something to eat. Our big black and white cat, Tucker, was traveling with us, except that he was a furry, fist-sized black and white spider in the dream. He was in a cage but got out. The car door was open. I saw him leaving the car, but I wasn’t positive. Either way, I searched for him, but didn’t find him, and ran out of time.

Our appointment for meeting the group to prepare to perform had arrived. We met with the group at the convention center where we were to perform. Meeting with the band, I stepped back and let others lead. After a few minutes, it seemed to me that they were off track. Everything that’d been discussed was changed. I reminded them of our earlier conversation but they were confused, and seemed unable to remember anything that I said.

That’s where the dream ended.

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