Category: Dreams

An Unsettling Dream

I didn’t know what to make of this offering last night from the Dream Neurons.

It was another military dream. I was in this crowded location. Nothing about it was wholly clear. A senior NCO, I looked like myself from my last years in the military before I retired.

As I say, very crowded. Mostly officers. Mostly Air Force, but a few from the others services were present.

Narrow room. Seemed like an operations center but none of the typical comm gear and crypto was in sight.

My commander, a colonel and short, blonde woman who looked remarkably like Sandi Toksvig, cornered me. “I have to go out,” she said. “Keep an eye out for those guys.” I knew which guys she meant. They were basically rogue, either on a mission they’re weren’t supposed to be on, or away without authorized leave.

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“If thy show up, and we think they will, immediately call security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and I vaguely wandered about the place. It didn’t take long for the missing men to show. All were tall, young, and fit. None were in uniform.

All of my officers were pleased to see them. A generally jovial spirit emerged as my guys greeted the new guys. An impromptu party seemed in the making.

But I had to do my duty. It was going to be ugly because everyone else were overjoyed with the rogue guys’ presence. That put me in some emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. But it had to be done.

So, I balked. I told the senior officer present what had transpired between the commander and me, and the directions to call security on the rogues. He listened, displeased. I finished, “I’m calling security, but I didn’t want it to be a surprise.”

He spread the news to the rest. Their expressions darkened. Sullen silence soon prevailed. I made the call.

The rogues slipped out as soon as I called. The officers immediately began disparaging me. The senior officers and a few others defended me; I was following orders. Doing my duty. That little mollified them or me.

The senior officer, one other officer, and I left for the airport. We were walking and meant to be going on some duty travel. I ran into my commander and informed her about what’d transpired. She told me, “Good job, you did what was needed.” We seperated.

I caught up with my traveling companions at the airport. It was a chaotic mess. Remaining outside we milled with others, trying to learn where to go for our flight. While that was going on, a gigantic giraffe loomed over the top of the trees.

Excited children pointed at it and shouted. I stared, incredulous. The animal was bigger than what I thought was normal for a giraffe. Also, WTF was a giraffe doing at an airport? Also, the giraffe looked fake, like it was made of aluminum and then painted. Who would do that?

We found our flight and boarded. There weren’t any seats. All of us were forced to stand. That was okay because the flight was over in an eyeblink.

We began disembarking. The senior officer sketched his plans and then asked me, “And what are you going to do?” in a booming voice.

I replied, “Whatever you need me to do, sir.”

“Do what you want. Just don’t nuke anyone.”

Weird thing to say, I thought. “I won’t, sir.”

Dream end.

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Two Dreams

My dreams of late have been numerous but mostly adventure stories which don’t seem to include me, with a few exceptions. Last night’s dreams were all about me. Two struck me as more interesting than the rest.

This one really intrigued me. A younger version of me was strolling through a hall. Passing brick walls, I could have been in a school, college, university, or museum. I was alone, though.

Mounted on the walls were hundreds of boxes. All were the same size, about eight by ten inches, two inches tall, with printing and a scene on the front. Wondering what they were, I slowed to examine them.

“Oh,” I said, speaking aloud as realizations came. “I see. Those are dreams I can chose. Very cool.”

Smiling, putting my hands in my pockets, I resumed strolling, looking at the boxes as I went by.

While the first dream featured only me, the second was busy with people. Most were strangers, even though several were purported to be co-workers.

Background: A former boss, Walter, was featured in the dream. I’d worked for him at my first startup after retiring. Walter was a nurse who’d become involved in starting medical device companies. He’d made a fortune with a device called the Rotablator last century. The startup where I worked for him in the 1990s was a medical device company manufacturing stents mounted on balloons for use in coronary angioplasty. We made our own balloons and stents and were searching for ways to used stents and/or balloons for treating some stenting side-effects with radiation. Fun time.

In last night’s dream, I again worked for Walter. He was trying to start another new business. The last one hadn’t worked. I went to him and asked, “Walter, what are we going to do?”

He replied, “Don’t worry, I have some things coming up.” (Typical Walter).

My desk was located outside, as was everyone else’s desk. We sat on black mental folding chairs. As I had no work, I just goofed around, playing little games.

Other people came to see me, along with a middle-aged woman with a sunny smile and a blonde beehive hair style. She told me she was either a regulator or inspector and was just coming to check on me to see if I was okay.

Walter then came around and told me to be on the watch for Jason. Jason was supposed to be arriving. I responding, “Who’s Jason? What’s he look like?”

“Jason is a friend,” Walter called back over a shoulder, going away again.

Looking for Jason, I went around the corner of a large cinder block and metal building. About a dozen people were there, milling about, busy with different activities and conversations. One came around the corner on the building’s other end.

Making my way to him, I introduced myself, and added, “You’re Jason, aren’t you?” As he replied yes, I finished, “Walter is waiting for you. Follow me.”

Dream end.

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Overlapping Dreams

Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.

First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.

Me: I did? What is it?

“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?

“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”

This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.

“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”

The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.

I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.

I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.

Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.

I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”

“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”

I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”

I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”

I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.

Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.

I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.

Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”

Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”

I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”

“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”

Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”

But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.

Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.

“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”

Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Fridifferous.

Greetings to my life companions on Earth. We are annotating today as Friday, March 22, 2024.

Spring is supposed to be here, but last night’s air was thick with wintery smells and feels. The palette for this morning’s sky had no blue but a great range of greys. Some were smoothed across with a palette knife. Others were swept around with fan brushes, merging and muddying the shades and shapes.

The sun wasn’t included as an element in the sky. 54 F now, some say we’ll surmount 62 F today. Doubts are stirring as rain falls and the clouds maintain a firm front against sunlight.

Multiple dreams are recalled from last night’s sleep session. One emerged almost intact as a short tale about cats and their nine lives. Others were recorded. Might share one of the others.

My wife told me that today’s news was so depressing. I had avoided reading news by focusing on my dreams and reading a novel which is engrossing me, so I asked, “What news?” She shared the projected profit which Donald Trump might realize with the Truth Social/DWAC merger. The rich get richer.

Then there was The Donald’s claim that he has $500,000,000 in cash. Does it surprise you if I told you that’s contrary to what his lawyers have been saying in public and telling the court? Does it make you question that if that’s the case, why hasn’t he been able to get the bonds he needed? Certainly makes me wonder these things. I’m not an expert in any of it though.

As WaPo notes, “Trump’s suggestion sharply contrasts what his lawyers told a New York appellate court earlier this week that it would be “a practical impossibility” for him to post a bond covering the full amount. His lawyers cited rejections from 30 bond underwriters in their request for a stay of enforcement on the judgment.”

I bet this will raise some questions in the Judiciary.

Shouldn’t be a surprise with the quagmire of thinking in my head that The Neurons delivered Asia and “Only Time Will Tell” to the morning mental music stream (Trademarked over a million times, maybe a billion times). We’re wanting on the outcomes of several Trump trials, along with a few SCOTUS rulings, and trials for other Trump-aligned individuals, like Rudy G. and Mike L. Only time will tell, we often tell one another.

Anyway, Asia’s song was released in 1982. Easy, simple lyrics, and a robust but progressive rock sound made it a hit.

Stay positive, lean forward toward a better future, and vote. Coffee has energized The Neurons. Here we go. Enjoy the music. Cheers

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The Third Life

It was a night of dreams. This tale emerged from one.

Death came hard.

He hadn’t expected it. A loud noise behind him made him jump, turn, and stop as he crossed the street. A car raced toward him. He heard it but didn’t see it. The impact was short but hard.

Next that he knew, he was rising from his body, an unseen spirit slicing through the night. Below, his furry ginger body cooled on the asphalt. Stars peered through the dark, moving clouds, witnessing it all.

He was entering the quantum tunnel. Humans enjoy calling it the rainbow bridge. Amusing to him and many floofs but most respected most humans. Humans were often loyal, loving, and fun, and offered pretty good food.

He’d already used two lives, when he was two and five. First one was the stabbing. Loud voices spewed from his people. They wrestled and grunted. Glasses broke. Thumping and crying ensued.

Noises like that scared him. Fireworks. Arguments. Noisy machines.

Refuge in a dark closet among the shoes was sought. He didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t care. He never paid attention to anything not directly affecting him.

Silence fell. Body low, tail lower, he crept out.

His woman was crying on the kitchen floor. Salty snot and tears covered her face. She sagged against the dark wooden cupboards. His man was sprawled a few feet away. Blood expanded around him. A knife rose from his side.

He sniffed her, and then him, identifying anger. Love. Frustration. Pain. Death.

The decision to return the man to life was instantaneous. That wasn’t enough. The fight had shredded his people’s relationship. He not only needed to return the man to life but to a time before the fight.

Sitting, calming, eyes narrowing until they remained as emerald slits, the ginger boy focused on going back in time. A time bubble emerged in his head. He expanded it until it slipped out of his mind and into the air. Once it held him, he thought back through the hours, ignoring the shifting and burbling lights and sounds. Hard to do, because they mesmerized and threatened him.

Exhaustion skinned him after he finished. But worth it. They were happier. He took turns indulging in prolonged naps on their laps, attuning himself to their energies. When they moved, he moved, staying with them, wrapping around their legs to read their energy. As time tipped toward the remembered fight, he bit their arms or ankles, meowed and purred, or chewed their hair until their energy shifted.

“What’s with you, Gingerbread?” they asked, scratching his head and ruffling his fur. “You’re acting strange. Are you hungry? Do you want to play?”

Days passed without a fight. His purrs expanded into a loud, proud rasp. He’d succeeded.

The other life was a simpler matter, bringing the man back from death after a heart attack. After Gingerbread restored him on the sofa where his death had happened, the man awoke with Gingerbread curled up on his chest. Looking at the cat, he rubbed his mussed hair. “Wow, Gingerboy. That was some nap. I must’ve really been asleep. I feel so much better. Guess I needed it.”

Gingerbread purred back.

Yes, he decided as he floated down the quantum tunnel. His life was good. He loved his people and would miss them. He would go back.

Pushing against the growing energy currents, he pressed the other way until the night opened around him again. A light rain was slicking everything, turning it all black. His body remained where he’d succumbed. Getting back into it was a little hard because of the time which had passed, but he persisted, just as he had when he’d shed the collars they put on him. He would never wear a collar. Hated them.

“Ginger,” the man called. And then whistled.

Springing up, Gingerbread ran across the street and up to the front door. “Finally,” the man said, bending, petting him. “Was that you in the street? What were you doing? Don’t you know how dangerous that is? That’s why I worry about you.”

He picked Gingerbread up. “Come on, GB. Time to go in. Tomorrow is another day.”

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The War Dream

War was just becoming a reality in this dream. No details about who although I was alert for militia to and individuals or small groups to come in.

Details are likewise sparse about the location. Along a lazy ocean. Cloud-streak greyish blue sky. Sands and grasses, a desolate place. Nothing familiar.

I was in my forties or fifties. Friends and family were absent. But I belonged to some sort of community. I told them war was going to commence. The majority were doubtful but being pretty certain, I set off north to collect intel because I’d heard some opposition was up that way. I had a feeling they were preparing to come down to our location and cause problems.

I was in flatlands. Staying along a road that ran parallel to the coastline, I walked, taking my time. Others accosted me about who I was and what I was doing. Two of them, a man and a teenage male, joined me. The man carried a small dog. We all had handguns but that was it.

Some opposition was spotted. We hid in scrub grass and watched. Seemed like they were looking for us. I headed toward the water and circled around them. Backtracking down the coastline from the road’s other side, I saw my companions were spotted. A man was aiming a gun at them.

Hurrying, I found another long rifle on the ground sticking out of the grass. Grabbing it, I shot the gun man three times. I then slipped forward and shot another gun man. He had a WW II Nazi helmet on. His skin became ash and fell from his body, leaving a skeleton in clothing and a helmet laying in sand and grass.

Returning to the other two, I urged one to take the rifle because I thought myself a poor shot and believed they’d do better. Continuing north, we encountered others who wanted to join us. By the time we returned to the community where I’d started, fifty men, women, and children had joined me.

We had few weapons, though. From what I’d gathered, I decided I knew where the enemy would come and set up a series of ambushes for them. Someone reported to me that the Army was arriving. I went out and met some of them set up as a watch. Speaking with them, I urged them to move because they were out of position and would be overtaken by the attacking force. They told me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. I discussed it further with them. They threatened me so I snapped and dressed them down. The senior of them said that I needed to talk to the colonel.

I went off and made my case to the colonel about why his forces were placed wrong. He dismissed my concerns and basically claimed that he knew better. Writing him off, I returned to my force. They asked me about the Army. I told them that they weren’t moving but when the enemy came down, they’d eventually realize they were wrong and move.

I saw some enemy soldiers moving along the beach. “Here they come now,” I told the rest. “Don’t shoot until more are here. Try to take them alive if you can but don’t put yourself into danger.”

Dream end.

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Sun(less)day’s Theme Music

Mood: Snogitation

Hey, fellow inhabitants, it’s Sunday, March 3, 2024. Snowstorms continue in Ashlandia, where it’s now 34 F. We anticipate a high of 41 F.

Weather alerts, winter advisories, and storm warning remain active through Monday evening. Snow kept up until mid-afternoon yesterday, resuming after midnight. Snow continued its shift until today’s early hours and knocked off again. We’re expecting more, but we’re also expecting rain, which should laden doing anything outside with icy delight. Temperatures are expected to boing back and forth, low thirties to mid forties, for the week, with rain and snow playing together. By Thursday, rain and snow is expected to wind down and we’ll see temperatures in the fifties by Friday.

More dreams, more music! That one dream, about using magic to protect a young magic trainee, was fascinating. Meanwhile, The Neurons have several songs bubbling through the morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks). Some are extended plays from yesterday, but “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath and “Snowbound” by Donald Fagan are both now in the mix. But another, the R&B song, “Da Dip” from 1996, is dominating. I heard the Freak Nasty tune on the radio yesterday afternoon, and those lines, “I put my hand upon your hip, when I dip, you dip, we dip, you put your hand upon my hip, when you dip, I dip, we dip,” is all over the MMMS. It’s fun singing along with those lines. I struggle with the rest because

Be positive, vote, remain strong, and keep leaning forward. Now halfway through my first cup of coffee, I feel like I can do the same. Here’s the music; hope you enjoy it. Cheers

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A Book Dream

A short dream recap.

I was in a room, high walls painted sky blue, tall windows which looked out over a hill which lead to a beach and see, white ceiling. ‘My book’ as I referenced it was on an old but polished dark brown table that I’d been using to write. My book was finished and had a cover which I partially saw: sky blue, yellow, with a red frame around some scene and the title in red.

I left the room and returned, finding the table gone, along with my book. I hurried back into the other room and asked what someone to tell me what had happened. I’d been half expecting the table to be taken away but having my book removed upset me. A tall, angular woman with short brown hair told me that the mover had taken the table and inadvertently took my book with it. They’re realized their error and were bringing the book back. I was looking out the window while she spoke. “There they are now,” she said, pointing out.

A helicopter was high in the sky coming toward us. This was one of those heavy lift Chinooks with two rotors. A large white lighthouse with a red tile roof dangled on a hook and cable. “Yes, I see it,” I answered and settled down to patiently arrive, and begin hearing its distinctive helicopter sound getting louder.

The helicopter arrived and lowered the lighthouse. When they finished, I went into the original room and found my book. Unfortunately, it was high on the wall and out of my reach. I searched for a ladder. None was available, so I returned to the other room and complained to the angular woman. She said, “I’ll get it moved so you can reach it.”

I went back into the other room. The book had been lowered. Standing on my toe tips and stretching fully out, I was just able to reach it. With it finally in hand, I opened the tome and began reading.

Dream end.

After I awoke and thought about the dream, I realized that my dream self had equated the book as the lighthouse, and meditated a while about what that meant.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Mood: Alright

March 1, 2024! And Friday.

It’s a late start again for me as far as writing and posting go. Friends are in town and we met for a big coffee gathering. See, there’s a tradition established around a M-W-F exercise class. It engages at 8:30 AM. Finishes at 9:30. Then a group goes off for coffee. The female side of the visiting friends was part of this coffee klatch, so she did the class and then all joined for coffee. Several husbands and I, who are a normal part of the gathering, joined the gathering to see our friends and socialize. The visitors lived here in Ashlandia, then moved to Portland, and now are in the process of moving to Spain. That last isn’t an easy process but they’ve been going every year during the last three and are committed to making the move.

The winter storm they’ve been warning us about slammed into the valley. For a while, we hung at 34 F as snow charged down and clung to the Earth, building its base. Warmer air crowded in. Snow became rain and melted all the snow at our elevation. Bright sunshine now smothers the valley, and the temperature is working close to the expected high of 48 F. Friendly white clouds are driving in a blue sky.

My morning mental music stream (Trademark coming in two weeks) has been like a radio station. A sample of today’s music heard in me head:

“Our Day Will Come” – Ruby and the Romantics, 1963

“Little Red Corvette” – Prince, 1983

“Turn the Page” – Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band, 1973

“The Luck You Got” – The High Strung, 2005

“I’m Alright” – Kenny Loggins, 1980

“Our Day Will Come” seemed like a dream remnant. The Neurons plugged in “Little Red Corvette” because I’d seen a red Corvette the day before, a 1984 one, like Dad’s, except Dad’s was Navy blue. “Turn the Page” is a natural arising from on month’s ending and another month’s start. “I’m Alright” was cranked into the stream after I completed my daily self-assessment, done after walking around, seeing if anything is misaligned, malfunctioning, or gone, as far as my body and mind goes. Another two or three songs were featured in the MMMS but I went with “The Luck You Got” by The High Strung because it demonstrated the strongest presence.

I learned about The High Strung from an episode of This American Life I was listening to while driving one day and then sought their music on the net. Of course, I did hear “The Luck You Got” not too long ago when my wife and I checked out the US version of “Shameless”. We’d watched the Brit version back in the day and were leery of what an American version would be like. When I heard the theme music I thought, hold it, I know this song. Weirdly, just as I began looking it up, I fully remembered it.

Be strong, lean forward, vote, and remain positive. Fortified with coffee, I’m right there with you. Seize the Friday. Here’s the music. Cheers

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A White House Dream

I’ve always dreamed of houses, though I think those sort of dreams have tapered off in the last ten years. I had one again last night, though.

And it was confusing. A wealthy family was staying in this large and luxurious white house. My wife was with me, and we were young, and also staying there.

The house was for sale. It featured many layers set up in a cubist manner with steps connecting the square or rectangular rooms and halls. Exhibiting something of a mobious to the design (yes, kind of like M.C. Escher art), I found I could be in one end in a bedroom (there were many en suite bedrooms) and step one way and be on another level, in another room, on the building’s other end. Resolving to understand how it worked, I went about the house until I thought I’d gone through every room and knew my way around, and then started taking my wife around to show her.

Although the house was huge and way too large for us, I liked several of the rooms and rhetorically discussed with her which I liked. I speculated, too, on which room I would use as an office to write. Two really attracted me. I felt that both were too large. One had a bathroom and I thought that would be good to have. But because of the house’s design, people would sometimes need to walk through that room to reach other parts. Thinking that a disadvantage, I returned to the other room.

While this was happening, it was announced that the house had been sold. We wondered who bought it. The family staying there were’t the owners. We rarely encountered the parents, usually spying them walking through the house from a distance, but we frequently ran into the children. Early teenagers, they were rambunctious, mindless, wasteful, and destructive.

Going back to the other room that could be my office, my wife and I got in bed. The bed was just a mattress on legs, without head or foot boards, and there was no other furniture. I spooned her, pulled thick blankets up to our necks, and napped.

Some hubbub in another room woke us, pulling our attention. I went to see what was going on. Things had been damaged in another room. To be blunt, it was wrecked. I felt certain it was one of the male teenagers, because I’d seen him in that area with some of the damaged furniture, glassware, etc. So I told them what I’d seen before. He denied it but under questioning from his parents, with me pointing out some things, he confessed to what he did. As I walked away from this, I took more notice of that room. Its floor was white. I discovered one end had a raised circular dias, also white, and decided the room was set up as a party room, and that was a place where a small band could play. The room had a cutout running the length of a long wall and I speculated that the band could be playing on that platform or dias and be heard and seen from other rooms.

The dream ended with someone presenting me with a new car, a white Ferarri. Brand new, I admired the car but I dislike white cars. Thinking it would be rude to turn it down, I accepted the car. The last of the dream showed me getting into the car.

What intrigued me most about the dream when I awoke and thought about it was it similarity to a house I often dreamed of decades again. A recurring dream, I had a white house in a small town. When I explored that white dream house, I would discover doors to rooms and sections which I didn’t know I had. Sometimes other families would be living in those sections, leaving me confused about whether I owned it. But I also found myself in that house going to the house’s lowest realm, turning a corner, stepping through the door, and finding me back on the top, on the other end, just as in last night’s dream.

The other thing about both dreams is that these white houses were on the coast, looking out over blue ocean.

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