Dreamed about being ‘slathered in yellow’ — again — so I awoke with “Yellow” by Coldplay (2000) in my stream.
Just A Dream Snippet
Just a dream snippet remains from last night’s viewing. It felt like the dreams were on, but like the television running in the background while I was doing something else. Not much seemed noticed.
The one time that I remembering seeing the Dream Vee, I had butter on my arm. It was a twenty-year-old version of me. I laughed about that and was talking with someone else, showing them where I had butter on my forearm.
I know my dream age, because my image was lifted off a photograph that I saw not too long ago. My hair was dark and thick, but cut military short, and my mustache was dark and heavy. My wife and I had gone to a shopping mall. At her encouragement, I bought a pale yellow, short-sleeved shirt, the top that you pull over, with a three-button Henley packet. It became a favorite shirt for a few years.
While I was laughing about the butter and attempting in dream-muddled-confusion to understand how I’d come to have this thick, long streak of butter on my right forearm, I realized how yellow it was. At that point, I heard, spread yellow light over your body.
That’s all that’s remembered.
Monday’s Theme Music
The sadness of aging is often not what happens to you but the losses of others, from friends who age and disease, to our heroes.
I, and my generation, has seen a lot of our heroes passing away. The inevitability of death can’t be denied. It happens, but we don’t know what goes on past the door. There’s a lot of guesses and conjecture, and some promises and prophecies, but most of us need to wait until we go through the doorway before we find anything, if there is even anything there.
These reflections came as I thought about my dreams last night. I didn’t remember much except one. As I went through the exercise, though, the first lines of the Cranberries’ “Dreams” (1992) entered the head stream.
Oh, my life is changing everyday
In every possible way
And oh, my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems
Never quite as it seems
Those lines reflect my life philosophy. Nothing is what it ever fully seems. We live on spectrums of seeing, remembering, sometimes understanding with a glint of blinding insight, but more often, applying hopeful explanations to what we don’t know, all in efforts to uphold and sustain this stubborn illusion of reality. But then, hearing Dolores O’Riordan’s unique voice in my head, I remembered that she’d passed on, slipping through the next doorway when she was forty-six. She’d drowned in a bathtub. Reading about it now on Wikipedia, I learn her blood-alcohol level was .33. Empty alcohol bottles were found in her room.
So, in memory of dreams and life, here’s today’s theme music.
Sunday’s Theme Music
Today’s music choice is another of those, “Out, damn spot,” selections; a song is stuck in my head and must be dislodged by being shared with others.
The song emerged during last night’s dream quagmire. Can’t call it a dream true stream last night. From my memories, the dream streams all torrented down pipes that burst, releasing the dreams into a big sloshy mess. So, boom, here’s a twentieth century Guns n’ Roses Sunday offering, “You Could Be Mine”.
The Chicken Bone Dream
The chicken bone dream had much more in it.
To begin, naked but dressing, I was concerned with a chicken bone traveling through my body.
My wife was with me. She was preparing to leave for work or somewhere. We lived in this huge, modern white house. Most of the dream took place in garage. The garage was spotless, with a glistening white floor. Multiple high-end cars were parked in it. Most were white but one car was a black BMW five series, a large car. A child was sitting in the car’s trunk, eating a bowl of cereal. The child was about nine and dressed in a blue school uniform.
He wasn’t my child. I told my wife, “You can’t let him stay there. That’s a car trunk.”
She replied, “That’s fine, he does it all the time. They both do.”
When she said that, I saw that there was a blonde boy, the same age, in a green school uniform, eating cereal in the back end of a white car.
I had to leave so I dismissed it. The chicken bone in me was distracting me. First, I was thinking, “There’s something in me. It’s going down through me. What is it?”
Feeling along my body with my finger tips, I focused on my abdomen. I realized that I thought I felt a chicken bone.
As I continued preparing to dress and leave because time was growing short, I struggled to understand how a chicken bone came to be in my and how it was going to come out. I decided that I must’ve been eating a chicken leg, and I’d swallowed the bone. Now it was working through my system.
Believing that, I felt along my body with my fingers. Yes, I could discern what seemed to be the joint end of the bone. It was working down through my body. As it worked down, I kept feeling it. More of the bone was clearly discernible. Soon, it was clearly a chicken leg bone. I wasn’t panicked but I was worried about how this was going to come out of me. For some reason, I thought that it was going to exit via my penis. My skin had become very elastic at that point, so the thought of a chicken bone passing through my pecker was amusing.
Others came, dressed in tuxedos with black ties, or sparkling white evening gowns, asking, “Are you ready yet? Aren’t you dressed? We’re going to be late.”
I told them about the chicken bone coming out. They waved that off. “Don’t worry about that. Come on.”
I grabbed my tux and was putting it on as I went up the stairs in my white house to leave. The dream ended by fading out to Sid Vicious singing his punk version of “My Way”. As I awoke, choruses from “Best Day of My Life” by America Authors popped in.
I awoke feeling great.
Friday’s Theme Music
Today’s theme music arrives directly from the chicken bone dream stream. First up, which began streaming as my dream ended, is one written by Paul Anka. Frank Sinatra had great success with it in the late 1960s, but my dream ended with the Sid Vicious punk version (1978). As that ended, my brain did a one hundred and streamed the 2013 pop-rock song, “Best Day of My Life” by American Authors.
Yes, it was an interesting dream. Since it was last on the slate, I went with Best Day.
But I threw in Sid’s song, because.
Cheers
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Today’s music choice is dream fallout. This song was in the dream stream and got kicked into the conscious stream after I got up. Now it’s stuck in there on a loop, which is driving me nuts, so it’s being shared to spit it out of the stream.
From 1987, here’s U2 with “Sweetest Thing”.
The Shoe Dream
So, as many of my dreams have taken me in the past, there I am, back in the military after being out for several decades. It’s not a surprising dream sanctuary, and makes sense in many practical ways.
Once again, I’m there, in a command center or command post such as the ones that I spent much of my time. This one has windows, though. That rarely happened. We were often in secure buildings or underground. As with other dreams, I’m trying to put together a uniform, and it’s all messed up, because I’ve been retired from the military for so long. With much joking and laughing, I get it together and get a semblance of an Air Force uniform on. There are others in this situation, so I’m not overly concerned with the bit. We’ve been called up…enough said on that, right? Yeah, my mind’s workings can be pretty transparent.
I’m worried about my shoes, though. They’re on, but they’re not in great shape. Meanwhile, the situation is developing. I’m senior enlisted there, and the experienced command post guy. The commander, a colonel, has arrived. He’s concerned about the sit. I share his concerns. Beyond the windows is a swollen gray ocean active with slow, heavy waves. We’re walking along the command post, looking out the windows, searching for an impending attack from across the water. Lights draw our attention. We watch, and watch, hoping that they’ll resolve into something more than blurry lights in the distance, ready to act if they do.
We begin walking toward the other end of the command post. I’ve been thinking as the commander and I scanned the sea, and I’d developed a sense that something wasn’t right. Maybe we were looking at the problem the wrong way.
Just as I formulate this to myself, I turned to look through another window and see a huge wave. Rising like a movie scene, it’s rushing toward us. As I see it, a young airman shouts a warning about the wave.
I spring into action, giving orders and directions about what to do as people begin running in panic. As they’re panicking and only a few are doing as I say, I take it upon myself to act.
It’s too late. As I realize that the wave is about to hit, I tell everyone to find cover and find cover myself. The wave slams into the building. Coming through windows, the powerful water wrecks the interior.
It’s over in a flash. I survive in good condition because I’d protected myself. My biggest concern is my…shoe.
Yes, I’m upset because my right shoe is coming apart. It’s not shiny and black, as I kept it throughout my mil career, as trained to do, as we all did; it is dull and white. Man, am I exasperated.
But we need to take care of things. It’s clear that we can’t continue operations in the current location. I and two others, a male and female, take off walking for the alternate command post location. We’re walking alongside a parade ground. I’m lamenting about my shoe as I go.
While walking to the alternate location, we start moving faster. The two I’m with cross to the other side of the parade grounds. We engage in an unspoken pseudo-race at fast walking speed. They become distracted with conversation. Seeing that, grinning, I surreptitiously speed ahead. They notice, and start walking faster, almost catching up. The guy starts running, so I do, too. Laughing, we reach the alt at the same time, and wrestle to get through the door first. I win.
Inside the small, old places, we find things that were left behind, like candy, gum, toys, and clothes. I’m amused as I go through some of the stuff and think about how to make it operational as a new operating location.
Holding up a piece of old candy in a weathered wrapper, I say, “I remember leaving this here.”
The dream ends.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Today’s song is perfect for the moment. A cat’s attentions awoke me about five this morning. Dream pieces stayed with me while I attended the cat, and since I was up, visited the water closet. Sometime during this period, ELO’s 1975 song, “I Can’t Get It Out of My Head”, started streaming because I couldn’t get that dream out of my head.
Now, like the title, I can’t get this soft, mystical, prog-rock song out of my head. Over to you.
Monday’s Theme Music
Today’s theme music was my dream’s theme music. It was a flying dream, and involved one of my little sisters, so I don’t know why my brain used this song.
“Fox on the Run” (1975) is by Sweet. I know of them and their music mostly through radio play, or from their music being used in television shows or movies. I’m more familiar with “The Ballroom Blitz” but I’m accommodating my brain and its choice here. The song played constantly in the background during the dream’s flying segments. There weren’t any foxes in the dream but that would be literal. There was a young woman who was attractive to me and who told me that she wanted me, so I guess the song could be a reference to her. We used to call attractive women foxes or foxy. That’s what the song is about.
The flying was effortless, by the way, but the aftermath — this morning — I feel exhausted. Coffee, stat, you know?
Meanwhile, I didn’t much about Sweet, so I read their Wikipedia coverage and a few other sources. The singer, Brian Connolly, died of renal and liver failure. when he was fifty-one after suffering multiple heart-attacks. Back in 1974, he’d been beaten and kicked in the throat, which damaged his vocal cords. Life didn’t seem the same for him after that.
So, here. Gotta get this out of my head and my dream. Cheers
