Category: Dreams

The Flooded Car Dream

To begin, I found myself in a car that became trapped in a flood and incapacitated. That meant I wasn’t going to make my destination on schedule.

I wasn’t bothered. Getting out of the car — no idea of its make, model, or color — I waded out of flood waters. Two things began working in parallel: I started making arangements for a rental replacement and I worked on understanding my location. With the former, I learned in phone calls that a car was available but wouldn’t be there for several hours. In the matter of location, I found that I was close to my father’s house. I could visit him and his family while waiting for my rental car.

Their home is in the southwestern U.S. in the dream. In real life, Dad lives in Texas but in the dream, I was unclear if it was New Mexico, Arizona, or Texas. With dream magic swiftness, I arrived at Dad’s and was knocking on their door. A family member I didn’t recognize answered the door. They recognized me, introduced themselves in a vague way and let me in. Then I remembered them.

Then, it was visitor time. Cousins on my father’s side were living with him. Two of these cousins have already passed away in real life. The other point is that I’m 5’8″ in real life and the cousins are half a foot plus taller. My dream had these roles reversed. That surprised m and it came to a point that I realized, I’m tall, they’re looking up at me.

Food and drinks were offered and accepted. After I ate, my father’s current wife entered the cosy western room where a fireplace hosted blazing logs. I explained the situation to her and asked her about my father and seeing him. A little distracted, she told me Dad was there and he wanted to see me but he had to do some things first and it would be a little bit later.

My Dad’s wife’s daughter called from open French doors in the rear that there was an animal playing in the water. I moved there to see a young wild cat chasing something through the water. Almost simultaneously, I realized that night was falling, it was pouring rain, that the house was built by an arroyo, and that flash flooding was underway. On the next moment, I saw that there was a much larger wildcat — about the size of an adult cougar — in the water and figured it was mom, and another little one. Those three animals easily moved their powerful bodies through the raging muddy waters. Mom cat noticed us and that’s when the next pair of realizations bolted in: that back door was just feet from the raging waters, and three wild predatory animals were also just feet away. But the animals went on and we backed into the house and eventually closed the door.

More family members briefly visited but all had other things to go do. I ended up alone. I noticed that they had this small, rough shaped wooden table, about the size of a petite coffee table. A piece of art was worked into the table’s top. I thought I’d fix it up as a gift to them so I took it to a small shop I located on the property and cleaned the top until some western piece of cowboys with lassos in iron and style was revealed.

After polishing it up, I returned to the house. Dad’s wife met me. I showed her and others the table. They were really pleased. None had noticed the top. The piece was a family heirloom and they were told it was priceless but they didn’t know anything about the art.

My rental car had been delivered and I needed to leave. It was night and Dad hadn’t shown. I left and went to the car. Once I reached, I laughed: I was still carrying the table in one hand. Going back to the house, I saw several of them through the window. The lights were on inside. They looked right at me. I realized that they couldn’t see me because of the lights and reflections, so I just went in, showed them the table, joked about almost leaving with it, and then left again.

Boom! I still had the table. I realized this in a few steps and hastily rushed back in, set the table down, and left the house. The dream ended as I reversed the rental car, turned it around, and drove into the night.

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Fridaz’s Theme Music

So we chug into Fridaz, Feb. 21, 2025. Blue sky has it over my views of Ashlandia. Plentiful sunshine pelts the scene with rays. It’s 32 F with mid 50s likely, ‘they’ say.

All that is my perspective. Per habit, I inquire of the weather for us from Alexa. It says it’s 40 degrees. Tells me about the fog. ? Says it’ll be mostly cloudy today.

What we have here is some kind of failure of something. Maybe it’s in a different reality; perhaps I am. Or Alexa landed in a different Ashland. There’s a bunch of ’em in America. Or…since she’s Amazon…and Jeff Bezos…and he’s getting along so well with Trusk…Alexa is trying to gaslight me. Ah, such possibilities to contemplate on a Fridaz morning.

Oatmeal with blueberries are being consumed. A Chicago song is going through my morning mental music stream. “You’re My Inspiration.” You know the words:

You’re the meaning in my life
You’re the inspiration
You bring feeling to my life
You’re the inspiration
Wanna have you near me

h/t to Genius.com

I figure The Neurons are calculating and channeling emotions about Tucker’s passing. Seems logical, right? But, The Neurons are not always logical. Then again, neither are emotions. Hell, neither is life.

The music certainly didn’t come from my dreams. They were trippy. I’ll almost certainly write a post about one of them later. It’s ‘almost certainly’ because it’s a busy day planned. So, it’s a time permitting thing. Then again, there’s not a general call for more of my dreams, nor is there a time limit. It’s not like someone sent me memo, “Post about a dream by Fridaz.” If they did, I didn’t receive the memo. I guess I should check my spam and junk mail, see if it didn’t get ditched there.

Coffee and I are doing the morning tango. Hope you have a solid day, and things begin looking and getting better for all of us. Here’s the 1984 music, fresh out of a recording made in 1992. Papi the ginger blade (aka Meep, Butter Butt) has arrived for his morning cuddle session. Gotta go. Cheers

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A Hybrid Dream

I called this one a hybrid dream. My ‘anxiety dreams’ often circle around my long-ago military career. Now my psyche has folded some of my civilian occupations into the mix.

This one began with me working with programmers. While they were busy on the daily stuff required for the present, I was focused on a transition planned for several years down the road. We were installing a new ‘smart’ support system. I was creating test scenarios. At one point, I stopped for a break and overheard someone say that the implementation date would be 2032.

2032. My spirit sagged. I’m going to be forced to wait that long for results?

The dream shifted. Now I’m at work in a military command post as I did for years. I’m working alone in the facility, monitoring different systems. While going back to get supplies, I notice a light blue telephone frame room door ajar. After another second, gathering someone is in there, I head back to the console area to call the security police.

The console is a mess. Phones aren’t where I expected them to be. I can’t find a hotline to the SPs. What the hell, there aren’t any hotlines to anywhere. What kind of command post is this? A dream twist causes me to get distracted. I begin cleaning and organizing the command post, cursing it as I do. What the hell is wrong with this organization that they let it get like this?

Going past the blue frame room door, I realized that I’d forgotten about the person in there. Now I see a woman leave that room. Past her is a cot, chair, clothing, and a small camping table. She’s living in there! Now, using a radio, I notify the security police.

They immediately arrive and take her into custody. Then I realize, I’m out of the console area, and I’m locked out. The console area is never supposed to be unmanned. What is wrong with me?

I hasten to get myself back inside. A person who works for me, a female, is just entering, so she let’s me in I hurry to the console. She accompanies me. We’re chatting, and then I remember and tell her, “I’m behind. I didn’t do my shift checklist, inventory the communications security gear, update the log.”

She says, “Wow, you are behind.”

I begin doing those things. Unlocking and opening the communications security safe, house to all the code books and crypto, I find food inside. “What the hell?”

Taking the food out, I stack it neatly. It comes to me that someone else stored the food there but I don’t know their intention. It looks like candy for Halloween, Valentine’s Day, Christmas, Easter. I organize it and start giving it away.

Dream end.

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The Power Dream

I wasn’t sure how to label this dream.

I was in bed. Tucker was beside me. He’d awakened me with a couple claw taps to my hand. This is what he does when he wants me to pet and scratch him at night. I obliged him.

It was 4:50 AM. Dim light was skirting in and around the blinds but the light had an unusual, lemon-green hue. It seemed pixelated with black static. That black static seemed to be closing in on me like a malevolent hand reaching out to seize me.

I wanted to cower under the covers but I felt like I had to get up and check a noise heard elsewhere in the house. Clenching my jaw, I forced myself out of bed.

The black immediately gained mass, pouncing on me like a swarm of angry black insects. I could feel its anger like a growing breeze. Waving it off, I said in my head, “I’m not afraid, you can’t stop me.” I then amended that, “Okay, I am afraid but I’m still not going to let you stop me.”

The black drew down on me and slammed my head like a hurricane wind. I held fast, resisting being pushed back or knocked over. After some seconds of this, I pushed forward toward the door. The black burst apart and vanished.

I woke up. I was partly out of my bed. Surprise held me; “That was a dream?” It seemed so real and intense that I stood there, half out of bed, remembering and thinking before wondering, had there really been a noise? I went to check.

Just in case.

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Sunda’s Theme Music

Good mornin’! It’s Sunda, February 9, 2025. Sunshine is crowding the window, pressing its rays up against the glass. We started the AM at 25 F in my locale but the sun soon had us soaring past 33 F. ‘They’ tell us 43 is possible. Don’t know if their fingers were crossed behind their backs.

The sun has been working its magic. Trees and bushes are pushing their heavy lids of snow back and stretching and flexing into their normal postures. Seeing sunshine, both floofs clamored to escape the house. Checking on them later, the two sat, eyes closed, soaking up rays on the patio’s sun-warmed cement. After being sun-doused, they returned to the house. One is now napping on a bed while the other is in a chair in sunshine snoozing.

What a night of dreams. Another military dream was among them. Classic of these dreams, I’m in the military again, and again coping with a uniform malfunction. In other words, I was out of compliance and trying to solve that. It’s my version of being pantless in school. But a twist arrived when an officer accosted me and asked, “What are you doing?” I figured he was going to ladle grief on me for my uniform. I whipped out an explanation and told him I was trying to rectify it. “Why?” he responded, surprising me. Then he added, “You retired.”

Oh, yeah.

That sunshine had me thinking, I hunger for a bouncy, energetic song. Something as an antitdote to PINO Trusk’s destruction. Drifting back into time, The Neurons surfaced with a Who offering from 1972. Although the video is silly with them miming playing their instruments and singing, the infectious blending of instruments stirred the kind of hope I felt when I was sixteen. That — and coffee — is just what my spirit ordered.

Coffee saved me again. Brekkie is done, cats are fed. Time to gen up other activities. Hope your day serves you well. Cheers

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Thursda’s Theme Music

We’re rocking toward the month’s end. I suspect the political chaos unleashed on us is likely to last beyond this month… Hope it doesn’t to too much to our spirits and sanity.

Last night’s sky was super clear. Man, the stars out there were awe-inspiring. To wonder about the distance, the worlds, the science…all subjects capable of reminding me how small and temporary we are.

This is Thursda, January 30, 2025. Sunshine slathers us under a sky that doesn’t seem like it can be any bluer. Temperatures dropped to 25 F around my place last night. Now it’s 47 F. Yesterday’s high achieved 56 F and we think today will visit 57 F. Thing about it is, walking along in 56 F temperature yesterday, I found that winter still skulked in the shadows. Felt like the temperature dropped by ten degrees and acquired a moody chill when I went through shadow.

Bad news was received yesterday. Part of the reason that I was outside last night, considering the sky and reflecting on existence. One of our beer group’s members passed away. Now, with people going through health issues and aging, you’d properly think it was one of them. But no, it was one of the youngest and newest members, Pete. Just 63 years old, he’d only joined us two plus years ago. He immediately revealed himself to be charming and intelligent, with a good sense of humor. Plugged right into group. He didn’t show signs of ill health or problems…but appearances can deceive.

One of our other members has known Pete since their third grade year. That amazes me. That friend joined us again last night and told us more about Pete. One of the revealations was that Pete had survived Hodgin Lymphoma. Beat it with a combination of radiation therapy and drugs. While he beat that disease, it left him with a weakened system and no spleen. Pete contracted a blood infection. Within a day of falling sick, spinal menningitis killed him. He leaves behind a wife, children, grandchildren, brothers and sister, parents. He also leaves a lasting impression. He’s another person I will deeply miss.

On to the music, which arrived by way of dream. After reflecting on the dream after I awoke, I saw that the dream image of me was like I appeared in the mid-1990s. That makes sense; I ranged from my late 30s into my mid 40s during that time, and that’s the mental version of myself who I carry forward. It’s always a surprise to find that I am no longer that age. You’d think that I would learn by now.

Anyway, by-product from the dream was the song “Shine” by Collective Soul. It was one of several songs I caught snatches of during the dream. Or was it? As I strained my brain to recall details, I was moved to wonder, did I dream those song snatches, or was I now just filling the void with falsehoods? Honestly don’t know.

As I popped through that mystery, The Neurons dusted off the song and slotted it into my morning mental music stream. It’s another tune, as with yesterday’s theme music, which gave a sound track to my life as I navigated existence around the San Francisco-San Jose Bay Area Peninsula region. And it’s more of that quasi grunge solid rock guitar ladened sound which I like. Hope you enjoy it and it coaxes memories of your own out of your cells.

Coffee is dazzling me with its caffeine once again. I’m bracing for another day of political chaos. Hope worse news doesn’t darken our existence but in this era, it pays to stay prepared for such. Here’s the music. Have the best day you can. I’m planning to do the same. Cheers

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Twosda’s Theme Music

This is Twosda, January 28, 2025. Sunshine has won another Ashlandia winter morning. It’s been served with a lavish side of blue sky and a big bowl of stagnant air. Temperature is 34 and will probably achieve something in the low 50s F, ‘they’ tell me. That’s where it went yesterday. They keep telling us cold weather is on the way but it’s remained generally the same for a few weeks. Still no snow, and no sign of any arriving soon. Nor have we had rain in a while. The Southern Oregon University graphics paint the scene.

I went into the stagnant air late yesterday afternoon to do a few quickies: collect mail, put out the trash and recycle, pet Papi as he rolled around on the driveway. The air had a funky smell. It reminded me of the odor that came with pouring starter fluid on charcoal briquets and lighting them. Don’t know if you’re familiar with that scent. I know it well from childhood. Not a good smell to have no matter where you walk outside. I don’t think it’s healthy, you know?

Trump and the GOTP continue their grand destruction tour. He thinks bullying Colombia with tariffs demonstrate how ‘tough’ the U.S. is. He’s such a sad joke leading a sad party. It’s terrible that ignorance et al has empowered him. Well, the FAFO hits will just keep stacking. Overreach, followed by a tipping point and a crash will bring the party to a calamitous halt. Tragically, given his obstinate nature and his circle of sycophants, the signs will be missed until it’s a HFM. That’s those morons’ proven history in this century.

In dreamland, I am now embarked on this weird erotic dream series. I seem to have one every other night for the past two weeks. My dreams often go into cycles. The normal cycles focus on driving cars, making discoveries, surviving disasters, or being reassured. I also cycle into periods of dreams that seem like adventure movies. I often wonder about the conditions which trigger these different cycles. I have a sketchy grasp on some but the bigger picture eludes me.

Der Neurons have brought music by the Offspring into the morning mental music stream. The 1997 song is called “Gone Away”. A box of thoughts kicked the song out of the mental dust and into the MMMS. Thoughts about going away, combined with thoughts of checks and powers going away, with a tincture of reflections about about who have passed, and there you have it.

Coffee made some overtures to me, and I accepted. Now we’re sitting together, enjoying a hot cuppa. Hope you have a strong day and a satisfying life. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Lost Tables Dream

This was obviously a dream about change. Anxiety. Confusion.

My wife and I were young people. We had a habit of driving to work together. We were taking turns driving. One would drive one day, the other would drive the next day. The dream showed this happening. Different cars for her and me; my car was a black sports car. Don’t know any details of it. Less is known of her car.

Although always going to the same place, part of our daily drive process was to consult on our phone about where we were going. That’s because the path changed every day. So whoever wasn’t driving was tasked with looking up the destination on the map and give driving instructions.

The dream showed this. I drove, she drove, I drove, she drove, etc. She looked up the directions, I looked them up, she looked them up, I looked them up.

Traffic was busy each day but the weather was good.

Our daily destination was a parking lot by a restaurant. We’d park near there and go on our separate ways to work. After numerous days of this, I was driving. My wife was looking up the instructions. But she was struggling with a signal and I, meanwhile, had made some guesses and found the way. She announced, “Got it,” right as we arrived at the restaurant.

But as I pulled up, I noticed that it was completely different. All of its tables were gone. The usually thriving place was completely empty.

Stunned, I told my wife, “Look. Something happened.” She was busy getting out of the car and heading to work so I repeated myself several times, further elaborating, “There’s no one there. The tables are gone. The place is empty.”

She left for work. I walked over to the area and then walked through the empty place, wondering how it had all changed, seemingly overnight. What I wondered most was, where are all the tables? They had so many tables. There was no sign that any tables had ever been there. As I stood there looking, I saw others hurryng by in the sunshine.

None gave the place a second look.

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The Factory Dream

I was a young man, possibly in my early twenties. Some other fellows were with me at a factory. I’m not sure how many were present. There were at least three, but maybe five, not including our overseer. I never took a head count.

We were in a factory doing a special job. No details of that job are available. It was cold but sunny weather. The factor was a plain, spare building with a whitewashed apparance that presented an air that it was on the verge of being abandoned or falling apart. Corrugated metal construction. Gaps in the walls. Bare, cracked cement floor. Signs that it’d be used for something else before and was now on a fifth or sixth life.

Under an uneven combination of weak overhead lights and sporadic, fading sunlight eking in through large, filthy windows, we worked around a long, dirty conveyor belt putting things together. As part of this, each of us were given some small black devices which seemed to be some sort of governor and also a CPU that told the system what to do. To install mine, I had to climb up a tall metal shaft and slip it into a slot just so. Some jiggling followd and then the conveyor belt sprang into noisy activity.

I don’t know what we were making but we shut everything back down and gathered again. The overseer, an oversized white guy in his mid-forties or early fifties, receding brown hairline and white short sleeve shirt with a tie, told us that we had one more run and then we could go home. But the other run was at another factory, about a mile away.

I had a car, a dark brown 1970s era Chevy Malibu. Sort of a ratty vehicle. I asked another for a ride to the other factory. Once we got there, I realized that I would need to return to the previous factory. We’d been sleeping in some little locker room there on cots. I’d left my clothes and gear there, not to mention my car, and would need a ride back.

This seemed to irritate the other guy, a big, good-looking guy with short, curly hair. He turned surly, and then shunned me during the rest of the session and wouldn’t speak to me. I was taken back by the change and wanted to talk to him about it.

The regular factory workers arrived. They all seemed to be foreigners to go by their dress, appearance, and language. They watched me as I climbed up to install my governor, laughing and joking about it. I gathered they had some other way of doing that and my method seemed strange to them. I tried explaining, “This is what I learned,” and asked for information about the other way. They wouldn’t address my questions.

That’s where the dream ended.

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The Fish Dream

I dreamed I was a fish. Apparently a youngish fish, I was gold and orange with red highlights. Swimming alone, I became aware that I had a pretty good memory, for a fish. I developed understanding that there were fish swimming around who unknowingly carried messages on their skin, and that there were some fish who carried memories and knowledge in their minds. All of these kinds of memories and knowledge had a short life and would fade, even though it all lasted longer than most of the other fish ever remembered anything. I began hunting out knowledge and memory fish after I established that I could transfer their knowledge to myself, keep it longer, and use it. I observed how several knowledge fish would swim together in schools, and other fish would join them, using information from knowledge fish to make decisions. But schools of fish avoided other schools, even if they were the same kind of fish. So knowledge would often not get spread past a school, keeping all of the fished dumbed down.

I began resolving to change that, to become a fish that spread and shared knowledge between different kinds and schools of fish. I felt that making all of us smarter would help preserve knowledge and maybe improve our lives.

Then the dream took a turn where an individual was lost and confused, and it sort of dissolved.

Then I went into another dream. In it, I was back to driving some silver, stunningly expensive sports car. I was alone in that one, and just driving along a blacktop road. Rising and falling, the road cut through an emerald green land under a blue sky. I would sometimes stop and exit the car just to gaze at the land and feel the sun and wind. I was much younger, but better looker than real life, with a dark beard. I never saw anyone else in the dream; just some dark birds silently flyin through the sky.

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