Category: Dreams

Thursday’s Theme Music

This is a twofer Thursday post, featuring a dream and a song, because this song started in my dreamstream.

It was a turbulent stream, with multiple vignettes and one-act plays. I think the music made this one memorable.

“Conquistador” began playing in the dream. Hearing it, I said, “Hey, I know this song. “Conquistador”. Procol Harum.” After remembering hearing the song’s live version in high school in the early seventies, and talking to my friend, Bob, about it (in the hall in front of the art classroom, by my locker, where he was talking overly loudly and enthusiastic, trying to catch some girl’s attention), I thought about other Procol Harum music I know and wondered where the music was coming from. I couldn’t identify its source.

All that was backdream. I was in my most recurring dreamscape, which is dark green, slightly rolling hills. I seem to know or I remember such hills most often out of dreams. Accompanied by several friends, we were admiring two exotic hyper cars, a Lamborghini and Ferrari, that belonged to others, and discussing their styling, price, and performance capabilities.

My friends were envious, but I said, “Yes, but my car is faster than either of them, and costs more.”

They were skeptical. So was I. I thought my ride would be there by now. As it wasn’t, I didn’t think my ride was going to arrive, and was becoming anxious.

“Conquistador” ended, and my ride arrived, a stunning silver Aston Martin. “Wow,” I said, along with my friends. “Wow.” I never believed it would arrive.

Then, it was just there.

 

7

The Superpower Dream

I recall three dreams from last night. 

The most memorable had me with superpowers. Yes, I became known as Time Man.

It started with a gorgeous day and a house being built. Standard construction techniques were being employed, and the footers, floors, and frame were all completed. Don’t know if I had a role in building it, but I remember looking at the house under construction, and walking around it in interest.

I then became aware that a large family were after me. From what I witnessed and overheard, they had superpowers and apparently had established a mission for themselves to corral and stop others with superpowers. Hence, they were after me.

At this point, I didn’t know that I had superpowers, and I don’t know how they discovered it. But now, suddenly being chased by this family of twenty donning costumes, I took off, time-jumping to safety. Why, how did I do that? I wondered after doing that. What exactly had I done?

I figured out that, while remaining on Earth and in the proper era, I’d both traveled in time to a few minutes into the future, and I’d also used PK to transport myself about a mile from where I was. Both of these impressed me.

Some of the superpower family (SPF, in shorthand) found me. I jumped again, going further in time and distance to buy some time (sorry). Exploring my abilities, I found that I had become aware of two arrows of time running in parallel, and that I was using both, but also using the time void between them. (I don’t know how the hell I figured all that out.)

Several SPF found me again. This time, I used my powers to freeze them in time, something that I’d learned that I could do. With them frozen in time, the SPF parents caught up with me. By now, confident in myself and what was going on, I confronted them and explained my powers, and told them that I didn’t plan to be evil, so they shouldn’t be afraid or try to stop me. A lengthy discussion about evil and intentions ensued. Essentially, they argued, how could they trust me, and I countered, then why shouldn’t I try to stop them? I could use their own argument about them. They said they had a history, and I replied, yes, but we’re talking about intentions, and subsequently, about unintended consequences.

About that time, the SPF members I’d time-froze (don’t know what else to call it without more thought) thawed and began moving, and other SPF folks began arriving. Mom and Dad stopped their children and began explaining that an agreement had been made for me to leave them alone and vice versa. Then I went off to play with time and explore my powers.

The dream ended, leaving me feeling, “Wow,” but also amused while wondering, “What the hell was that all about?”

One of the other dreams had to do with Mom and my family. I was having dinner with them. Dinner was being prepared, mostly by Mom and my sisters in the kitchen. The kitchen adjoined the dining and living room areas, creating one space. It wasn’t large, and circe 1960s furniture filled it. For example, the kitchen table and chairs had curved chrome legs. The table top was marbled gray Formica, and the seat cushions were bright red vinyl.

Now let’s get into the weird stuff. A man and his boys had a mirror setup, but there wasn’t any wall between us. We and they pretended to ignore one another while going through parallel activities of preparing our meal and sitting down to eat.

Mom and my sisters began talking, though, and left, surprising me. We hadn’t eaten, the food wasn’t prepared, and they’d left a mess in the kitchen. Vexed by this turn, I cleaned and organized, discovering chicken parts left in plastic bags in dish water in the sink. Mom briefly came by. I told her what I’d found and asked her what she was thinking, but she left without replying. Exasperated, I continued cleaning, and then prepared the meal. I waited for the others but when they didn’t show, I sat down to eat what I had.

I was sitting opposite the man and his son. They were white, both with dark hair. Taciturn and glum, the man appeared to be in his mid-forties. He was overweight and slovenly in appearance, with a flannel shirt over a white tee-shirt, and he hadn’t shaved. His son seemed to be about ten.

At this point, we were eating but not paying attention to each other, but I couldn’t help but surreptitiously note what was going on and observe. While doing that, I saw his son doing something, but I can’t recall what it was. However, I told the boy a better way to do it.

He and I looked at the father for a reaction. After a few minutes, while putting food on a plate, the man said without looking at the boy or me, “Listen to him, and do what he says. He knows what he’s doing.”

The dream ended.

0

A Chaotic Moving Dream

There I was,  in the midst of people and stuff on rolling hills of green grass. Stuff, being a broad, vague word, amply covers it. Stuff was everywhere, so vague that I can only say, I looked around and saw stuff, because there was too much to take in.

People were coming and going, including friends. I ‘m expecting this. I’m getting ready to move. A friend’s telling me that I need to organize. Make lists and do research about my move. Yes, I was answering him, I do and I will. Happy, I looked forward to my move.

*click* My mind shifted. What should be Sunday’s theme song. Mamas and Papas. No, that’s Monday. Kris Kristofferson, “Sunday Mornin’ Coming Down”, or Johnny Cash. U2, “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” the Monkees, “Pleasant Valley Sunday”. “Easy Like a Sunday Morning”. “Sunday Girl”. No, no, no.

*click*  Shadows grew long. Sunlight dimmed. The green hills began retreating into darkness.

People are rushing about. Others are moving. Time for me to move. I made lists and gave them to friends. This is what I need. The lists were very specific. Go get these things. People reviewed the lists and talked about the items. I don’t remember anything on the lists. I was bubbling with happiness.

Had a black index box filled with cards. It’s the black box, I think. Items are on the cards. I flip through, picking from the cards, what do I need, what do I need? Had a black book to look things up, research what everything meant, so my list was accurate. I hadn’t looked anything up. I wasn’t certain that I needed to but one friend was present, insisting that I should. I resisted, but told him that I would.

Oh, sudden and sharp, I needed to have a bowel movement. Where’s the toilet, where’s the toilet, where’s the toilet.

I begin running around. The toilet is out in the open by my friends. They’re talking to me. I’m babbling about needing to take a shit, scrambling to get my pants down, and sit on the toilet, hurry, hurry, hurry. My friends are watching. I’m calling for privacy. They’re turning away. I’m thinking, movement, movement, another kind of moving, what’s with all the moving? I sit on the commode. The movement begins. I’m laughing because I’m thinking, I’m getting rid of shit. I tell my friends that.

I’m not worried. I’m happy. The move has begun. I start singing, “Bust A Move”.

The dream ends.

 

0

The Standoff Dream

Weird dream. I was at a small settlement that seemed to be in the 1860s. Soldiers in Federal (Union) uniforms were present. They were holding off a force of what seemed to be Mexican-Indians.

I wasn’t part of the conflict, but an observer, drawing scenes for posterity, using pencil and charcoal on rough wooden whiteboards. The commander was particularly interested in having cards with small drawings depicting the scenes so he could send them to others without much cost or trouble.

Attacks began while I was working on my drawings. I noticed the Mexican-Indians would shoot volleys of arrows from a distance that was so far out that their arrows fell well short of the settlement. The soldiers in the settlement would stay in hiding, though, sporadically returning fire, but also from well outside of range.

It irritated me because they were both so far out. What was wrong with them? I kept telling people, “They’re all too far apart. They’re too far out. This will go on forever.”

No one listened, though. They admired my art, complimenting me on my skills and talents.

I awoke feeling exasperated.

The dream’s standoff reminded me of the 1980s Iraq-Iran war. We had opcon of the middle-east (southwest Asia, in our parlance). My job during part of that time was to brief the Commander of the Ninth Air Forces every morning. I did the Ops part, which was about the readiness of our tactical air forces and reserve forces (everything east of the Mississippi River), along with any situation reports on incidents that took place on our bases. I was the third briefer each day. Weather went first, followed by Intel.

The three-star general who was the CC and his staff were bullies. If they smelled weakness on you, they started circling, looking for a chance to take a bite out of your ass. I was too stupid to back down, though. Not so, the weather guys. They always seemed like they were about to cry.

The Intel guys, though, were covering the Iraq-Iran war, reporting on tactical sorties the two sides had flown the previous day. Most of that was about one side trying to sink the other’s oil tankers in the Strait of Hormuz in what was called, with little imagination, the Tanker War. The fighters attacking the tankers rarely did any damage because they would fire their missiles outside of the missiles’ range because they were worried about the air defense systems and getting shot down. So, the stalemate went on.

Our commander approved of those fire and run tactics, even if they hit nothing. That kept the aircraft and crew safe while keeping the enemy unnerved. So what if they shot off a missile and hit nothing. Missiles were less than five million each.

Odd how my dreams are dredging up so much past recently. Sometimes I feel like I’m excavating my memories.

 

3

The Father and Me Dreams

My Dad was a special guest star in my dreams last night. I was a teenager in all of them, not really surprising, because that’s the era of my life that I saw the most of him, as I lived with him for three years after things became dark and unpleasant with Mom’s husband. Then I graduate from high school and left home.

In one memorable part of the dream, Dad and I were following a young tabby cat. The cat had gone down a sidewalk. I hurried after him, and discovered him rolling around on the cement walk in some freshly cut grass.

After that, the dream scenes fluttered and crackled. There was Dad and I driving in a car, and I’m looking out the window, checking out passing scenery. We throw a baseball back and forth in sunshine. I hear his laugh. Dad enjoys laughing.

The dreams grew darker and faster in nature. Then, suddenly, it became “This Is Your Life” from when I was in my mid-teens.

Life wasn’t going well. Most of my time was spent reading books, riding my bike, playing sports, drawing and painting, and listening to music. Although I enjoyed math, history, science, and literature, school was a bore. I was becoming a loner and acted out out a lot, and the dream managed to feature sharp memories of that era. In one sequence, a boy two years younger than me was riding a bike. A bunch of us children were in front of his house on a late summer afternoon. We weren’t doing much but hanging. I think I was fourteen. This kid, though, was riding around and bantering with others. Then I heard my sister say, “He spit on me.”

I don’t believe I’d ever reacted as fast to anything in my life, and I have always, from childhood on to even now, been known for amazingly fast reflexes.

He was riding his bike by me. My hand shot out, caught the rear of his bike and jerked it back, pulling it out from under him. As he fell free, I tossed the bike to one side, stepped forward, grabbed the kid, and hauled him to his feet. I told him he needed to apologize to my sister. I remember that other kids there were freaked out and afraid I was going to do something terrible to the kid. But he apologized to my sister. I released him. He took his bike and ran to his house.

His mother came out and confronted me. I was unapologetic. I told her nobody was going to spit on my sister while I was there. She didn’t know her son had spit on my sister. That changed things.

The scene was just a brief flash in my dream, the part where my sister said, “He spit on me,” and I grabbed his bike. I remembered the rest, along with other memories from that period, after awakening.

The whole dream and memory sequence left me emotionally shaken as I went about my morning routine. As I wondered why I’d dreamed so much about my father and childhood, I reached out to him to ensure he was okay.

0

The Old Friends Dream

I dreamed that I was with a lot of old friends. People I’d gone to school with, neighborhood friends from my youth, and people I’d worked with around the world while in the Air Force, or working in Progressive Angioplasty Systems, Tyco, Internet Security Systems, and IBM were there. Writing friends were there, along with sports and drinking buddies.

No occasion that I know was mentioned for the gathering. We were just having a big party in an enormous ballroom, a place so large that I couldn’t see the other side. Well-lit, round tables were set with crystal and silver.

Weirdly, I entered after being out with some, and that’s when the dream proper began. I’d been with one person who I no longer wanted to be with. I had no enmity with him, but he was drunk and being obnoxious, so I was avoiding him. As I was skirting where he was, a group of friends streamed in. Seeing me, they shouted, “There he is,” and waved, happy to see me. I joined them, and we chatted, having a good time.

Then Chris suggested we go somewhere. “Where?” I asked.

“Who cares,” he said, with the friendly and easy smile that he habitually presented.

“Let’s go,” I said. “We can take my car, but I don’t want to drive.”

Chris said, “I’ll drive.”

We got into my silver Mazda. I was in the back seat. Setting off, we talked about where to go. Chris came up with a suggestion, but nobody knew where it was. “Use the GPS,” I said. Chris knew how to do that and pressed the buttons needed.

With my next awareness, we were at a more intimate setting. Many of my friends were there in their party clothes, but everyone seemed tired, I think from partying so much. They were barely interested in the music.

And that was amazing, because up on stage was a young Marvin Gaye with a back-up group. All of them were in amazing bright blue outfits with white shirts.

Marvin finished his performance. I looked around, like, why isn’t anyone applauding. As I began clapping, so did someone else. Putting his hands out, Marvin said, “Hey,” and everyone else sat up and applauded.

Then Jeff was by my side. Pointing at Marvin, he said, “He’s wearing a one.”

Yes, the number one was in black on a white porcelain appearing badge that hung down from his shoulders on his front. Seeing Jeff point at him, Marvin came over to speak with us. I was awed to be in such close proximity to such a creative and intelligent person. He was so pleasant and polite. We shook hands and chatted, and then Jeff, pointing again at Marvin, said, “That one is for London Park, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Marvin agreed.

Jeff bobbed his head with enthusiasm. “I was there, I’ve been there.”

Bewildered, I wanted to ask, where’s London Park? I’ve never heard of London Park. How do you know the one is for London Park?

I didn’t get the chance, because that’s where the dream ended.

The Games and Winning Dreams

What sensational dreams last night. I dreamed I was playing games, just a flow of games – video, pinball, baseball, volleyball, football. None of this was organized. Although an adult male, I ran from game to game with childish enthusiasm, played and won. And as I played and won, I realized a big board, like an arena scoreboard, showed my growing point totals. My points were rising so quickly and to such levels, everyone else was getting excited. Then, others started coming by and telling me, “Your big payout is coming. You’re going to win a big price.” My wife joined me, and was so happy and expectant. As for me? I was all grin as I played and won again, again and again, never losing.

Such a buoyant dream, full of positive energy. It was awesome.

0

Last Night’s Competitive Dream

Briefly, in last night’s dream, I was barefoot, but also in a blue uniform. I wouldn’t describe it as a military not a sports uniform. I thought it was a uniform because I wasn’t alone in the dream, and we were all wearing the same outfit. They didn’t numbers, ranks, or anything that distinguished one of us from another.

We were outside on lush fields of cut, dark green grass. To one side was a white building. I thought of school when I saw the whole thing, but I don’t know what it was.

I couldn’t say how many were in the fields in blue uniforms, but it seemed like a large number. Among us were people in the same uniform monitoring activities. The main activity was for us to run. We would run for about eight yards as fast as we could. As far as I could tell, no one was testing us. Someone would shout, “Run,” and we would all complete an eight yard dash. Most of us would laugh after we did it. It seemed like a lark.

This went on for a bit. I felt confused but not winded. Others were starting to complain. One observer, a black man in a blue uniform strolled past me and said, “Run.” I did. “Again,” he said. I did. “Again,” he said, circling me, saying, “Again,” after I did it.

A peer came out, a black youth in a blue uniform, but he was holding shoes. “What are you doing?” he said to me.

“Running.”

“Why? Are you practicing?”

I shook my head but didn’t say anything because I was being told, “Run,” again. I was bothered, though. Why was I alone being told to run?

The youth walked on. Alone with the observer, I asked, “Why are you having me do this?”

He said, “You’re doing more than the others but you’re not using the potential that I think you have, so I’m going to push you to do more.”

The dream ended. 

A few things struck me as I thought of the dream while doing my morning activities. While I was alone running as directed, I felt conspicuous, because I was the only one the observer was telling to run, so I was the only one now running. That made me stand out, and brought attention to me. I don’t like getting attention. The whole idea of being the center of attention makes me nervous and anxious. But if I’m going to achieve my potential, I’ll need to run alone, and accept getting attention.

I wondered, though. We were only running eight yards. I thought, does that mean it’s a shorter distance than I realized? I also thought, eight is so often featured in my dreams. Then, more whimsically, I thought, I’m only going eight yards, but do I need to go the whole nine yards?

Dreams, always giving me more to think about.

 

0

The Character Dream

Kanrin came to me in my dreams.

Kanrin is one of the main characters in my current work in progress, a series called Incomplete States. I’m editing the last book in the series with dreams of publishing them next year.

I’ve recently been dealing much with Kanrin. A fully-fleshed character who is well-understood, he’s the main character/star of the current chapters being edited and revised. It’s going well, meaning no problems have been discovered.

In the first dream, Kanrin and I were there, and he was talking about his situation. We were outside for this, and I was watching him in profile. The day was late, with night’s purple shades being drawn. A chilly wind and dropping temperatures had Kanrin in a jacket with his hands in his pockets. Wearing a hat pulled low, he was looking out over a rough, rolling green landscape as he talked. Past him in the dimming light were pastures, fences, and stone walls. I don’t know if he was aware that I was there. He didn’t deliver anything that I didn’t already know, but he did put it in some new way.

Awakening, I considered going to the computer and working on the ms. As it was four thirty in the dark and I was still groggy with sleep, I declined and nestled in for more zzzs.

Imagine my reaction when I dreamed of Kanrin again, essentially talking about the same thing that he addressed before. Okay, odd. I must be really into those chapters. Perhaps something bothered my subconscious.

About thirty minutes had passed since I’d awakened from the first dream to when I awakened from the second dream. It remained too early to go to work. I went back to sleep.

Which gave Kanrin a third opportunity to visit me, addressing again the ideas, concept, and story that he’d addressed before.

It was seven thirty when I awoke from the third dream. I got up now, but didn’t go to work. I went into my usual routine of feeding the rug floofs. If whatever Kanrin was sharing was important, I was certain it’d come out when I was editing and revising today.

Got my coffee. Time to write edit like crazy, at least one more time.

0

Some Dreams

I spy little dreams

secreted behind the schemes

coming and going today

 

Little dreams

hiding in the dark

fearing the people

that break them apart

 

Some dreams

aren’t meant to be

but who could say which one

 

Some dreams 

are down to essentials

like

I just want to live

and find love

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑