Category: Dreams

The Escape Dream

My wife and I were driving through the night. I did all the driving. It was a dark, intermittently wet experience but steady progress. We made it to where we wanted to go. As sunrise rinsed out the night, we found a different, larger vehicle to carry us on, and took on supplies. I packed the supplies in different containers. We emptied the one car, and I put everything in the other car. We were traveling with cats and had a litter box. I cleaned it out and then, for some reason, put the bags of used litter on the floor behind a seat. A cat was curled up in that location, apparently asleep, but I then realized he was dead. It was Quinn, who in RL, died of cancer several years ago.

With the new vehicle packed up, we went across the compound to shower. Suddenly naked, I squatted down in the sunshine, waiting for my turn. My wife stood beside me as I waited. We talked while this happened, feeling good about where we were and where we were going. People randomly passed by, taking no notice. I picked a scab off my leg.

The dream ended.

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The Three Cadets Dream

A whirling dervish of a dream. The velocity and fullness reduced what I could record.

TL/DR, I posed as a young cadet to use a computer, got caught and left. I drove a big white pickup and was at a funeral parlor. I spoke with a friend about how he processed his wife’s death.

Main elements included being with three young men and sometimes pretending I was one of them. They were cadets in a junior military training program. Don’t know the service, etc. Punishment was meted out for small infractions; the punishment was ‘take a sip of water’ from a small glass of water. Observing the three of them, I surreptitiously saw their passwords so I could log onto systems under their names. The one I was doing this with most was Josh, a big, gangly white guy from Idaho.

I went with the three to a classroom. Located outside under a warm blue sky, the classroom was a square of computer terminals with chairs. Instructors in the old camouflage battle dress uniforms sat on a wall monitoring activities. I wanted to get on a terminal to write. I had nothing else to write with and it was urgent for me to write.

The three had white vinyl binders. Inside it, one to a page, was a required essay subject. They were supposed to practice writing these five-hundred-word essays and then go to the computer and write them in the system from memory. Figuring I went get in the system under Josh’s name, write one of his essays for him, and then use the computer as I needed, I studied the topics and selected one.

We went in. I began executing my plan under an instructor’s cynical glare. I worried about being caught because I was much older than the cadets and my grooming was not to standards. The instructor noted an immediate infraction in my posture and addressed it in cool, low tones. “Take a sip of water,” she told me. I addressed my posture and sipped, then logged on. I was writing Josh’s essay on what I liked where I lived when I was young at home. Josh was from Idaho. I’ve never been but thought I could take a stab about the land’s beauty, hunting with friends and family, something out of those veins. But progress was impeded by the instructor interrupting me every few with notice of infractions and telling me, “Take a sip of water.”

My worry meter was cranked up. I wanted to get done and get out. Longer I stayed, greater chance of exposure, etc. And with my state and age, greater time equaled greater exposure equaled greater risk of being caught, which means I would fail.

Yes, other instructors took notice of me. Visiting senior officers did, too. They began a passive-aggressive campaign, standing behind me and telling another cadet sitting to my side to tell me that I was out of reg, etc., a drip of constant criticism. I slowly fumed and finally had it, identifying myself to the commander when he came in and made a snide remark. One of my commanders from RL, his posture instantly changed. He replied, “I know who you are. I’m just having fun with you.”

I decided to leave. The commander cajoled me, “Stay, relax, lighten up. Sometimes you need to relax, Seidel.”

But I was angry and set. Good-bye. He ruefully answered the same.

I caught up with the three cadets I’d been with. One of them had been working on an essay and showed it to me. His essay was supposed to be about CADRE, an acronym and what it meant to him. He took it literally, explaining what each letter represented. I lambasted him for being so literal, telling him, this is not what they want.

We were talking and walking. They got into a shiny white new Chevy pickup with me, a huge beast of machinery. I drove through the town talking with them about how to write better essays. Then I pulled into a side road, dirt, green with grass clumps. A woman was with five dogs and a ginger kitten. I worried about the ginger kitten being hurt by the dogs or the kitty being hit by a car. But another man arrived as I did, corralled the dogs and let her pick up the kitten. It seemed like those two knew each other.

I pulled into a large facility and back up to park. Difficult for me in this truck. Don’t know why we were there. I went into…confused miasma of things… I ended up with mud sticking to my shoes. I pulled them off to clean them, along with my socks. I was in a hurry to leave. When I parked, I thought I’d been to close other vehicles and thought I’d grazed a few, and I saw that a man was in one of them.

All the vehicles were white trucks like the one I drove.

The man got out and conducted a stony inspection of the trucks and gave me a look. I got into the truck to leave. The truck drifted back, scrapping more vehicles. I realized that my truck was too close to the others to move, so I got out and pushed it to one side so that I could leave.

We didn’t leave but went into the building. I discovered this was a funeral parlor. The man came in and met with family. They were in mourning over a loss. Don’t know who. I ran into my friend, Mel. I asked him how he’d coped when he lost his wife. He said that he didn’t handle it well, drinking too much and doing stupid shit, trying to sell computers.

Dream end

Dream note: Mel is a real life friend and looked exactly as I know him. His wife is alive.

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The Ant Dream

I dreamed I was an ant, but I had my own head and face. It was the face and head from a younger me, maybe one seen on me in the mid 1970s. I was running around, as were other ants. Seemed to be a frenzy going. I was confused because, I was an ant and I’m not normally an ant. As I saw the others running around with their human heads and faces, I wondered if they were going through the same process of self-realization.

A rough blackish wall was on either side. Although thinking like a human, I was acting like an ant, following the white ground beneath me, feeling things with frenzied antennae, following along the others in chaotic urgency. Same time, I’m thinking, “I’m an ant. Can’t I climb this wall and go up and see what’s up there?”

I do that but get up there and can’t make any sense of it. The view doesn’t help. My senses are limited. Then, epiphany, I’m a brick wall. I need to change the way I’m looking at things because up isn’t up, there really isn’t a firmly idealized up or down.

I awaken from that. Oddly, almost instantly, I thought about the novel in progress and experienced a burst of productive creativity.

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The Rope Dream

It was hot, dry, and clear. I was on a broad and empty plain. Two riders on horseback galloped toward me. I watched, trying to understand, who are they? Nothing auspicious about them, they resembled cowboys out of a revisionist western. They were approaching at slightly different vectors, dust pluming out behind them. I realized with some slowness, hey, they have ropes. Hey, they’re going to rope me.

Out in the open, nowhere to go, I thought that I’d run toward them, separating the space. Yeah, that didn’t work. They lassoed me. I awoke with a start, heavily sweating, struggling against the ropes. Took several seconds to understand that I’d been dreaming — or maybe experiencing another reality.

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The Waves Dream

I was at a rocky coast. Seemed basalt, reminding me of the central Oregon coast I recently visited around Yachats. Lots of huge rocks worn into curves, gullies, and humps by constant wave action.

Waves would crash on the beach behind me, sending streams of water up the through rocky gaps. The slopes made walking treacherous. I worried about sliding down in the water and also about getting smacked down by waves.

A couple – man and woman – were following me. They weren’t chasing me or anything, just going in the same direction. As I went through, I saw a short window set into the rock. The frame was yellow but the window itself was green. It was short but wide. I jumped up, thinking I’d hold onto the frame and peer through. When I grabbed the frame, it came right out of the rock. The place where it was set closed with rock. I put the window on the rock and went on. Looking back, I saw the couple behind me putting the window back into the rock. I wondered how they did that.

Continuing on, I worried that high tide was coming in. Concerns about becoming trapped rising, I moved on with more urgency as the rock walls became steeper. Studying the waters and their patterns, I realized that the tide was going out. Yet, when I turned to leave the area, waves rushed in. The walls were steep. I was forced to scramble but made it after some arduous climbing and jumping. Getting out of there, I looked back and saw the large basalt rocks shrank, becoming much smaller and flatter.

Dream end

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The Jab Dream

I was at a gray counter. A white man was across from me. About my size, he was younger but balding, with thin hair slashed and slicked over that glistening pale dome. He wore a wide dark tie with a red pattern, a starched white shirt, and a white KN 95 mask. Leaning on the counter, I said something to him. In response, he jabbed an index finger into my forehead and barked, “Heal.” Did this three times. Each time, I reacted in irritation, like, “Stop jabbing me, that hurts.”

I awoke with a sore throat.

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Four Dream Snippets

I recall four brief dream snippets from last night/this morning. In the first I was taking broken material and setting the edges together. After I did that, I’d fuse them into one piece. The materials were mostly like thick, green safety glass. After sealing them, I’d shape them. This was all being done with a little effort by using my hands. Strangers began coming by with more of the glass for me to use, but would also sometimes bring other materials that I’d blend into it. I passed out the fixed sections so people could take them to protect themselves.

The next dream segment found me wandering around this place as the sun set and dusk crept over the land. It was an outside venue. Other people were sitting and talking in small quiet groups. As I went around, I discovered a small stash of cut watermelon pieces. I took some for me and my friends, then went back and told my friends about the stash. I went back several times. The second time I returned, I used a different angle so I could see more of the stash, and discovered it was larger than I realized. The third time, I saw that the watermelon was different. Others were using it too, I deduced, but there was still a great deal of watermelon. As I investigated it I found a glass, which turned out to be a champagne flute filled with champagne. I then found a second one. I thought, well, if there’s flutes of champagne, they must be storing them temporarily, but it was odd, storing champagne like that. Removing them and setting them aside, I saw grapes and cheese. I put all of that back and left in, worried about being caught.

The whole episode caused me to think about where else things might be. I looked in another place and found a stash of candy bars. I didn’t see a name on them because they were face down, but they were large, in dark brown wrappers aligned in a row and stacked deep.

Next, I was signing my name to documents while seated at a desk. I was doing this in response to some vague demand; the papers were expected to be signed. A man came along and leaned over my shoulder and watched me sign.

“Just as I thought,” he said.

“What?” I replied.

“There’s power in your stars.”

That amused me. “What stars?”

“The stars in your name.”

“My name doesn’t have any stars.” As I said this, I signed my name again. My signature and name were just as I did in real life, and the ink was the thick black that I prefer.

He said, “The stars between your names. There’s a lot of space in those stars. You can do a lot more with them.”

I responded that I didn’t understand what he was talking about. He pointed to where I was signing. “You’re signing your name twice.” True. “In between them is a star.” Also true, which I hadn’t noticed. “Those stars have huge capacities. You should be using them”

The final snippet found me discovering a small cardboard box. I opened it. A kitten was inside. It meowed at me, so I picked it up. I immediately knew that there was another box with another kitten. After getting the second kitten, I took the two of them and put them someplace safe. I watched until they started playing. Then they saw food and began eating. I closed where they were, knowing they would be alright.

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Idea Wall Dream

Weird little dream. I came to a wall of large beige tiles outside. It was a corner piece. Stopping with others, I looked at the wall and listened as some spoke. It was a small group of people. I knew about half of them. They were guessing about what the wall was about and I responded, oh, it’s an idea wall. Seeing the ideas (none remembered now), I started rearranging the ideas into an affinity grouping, laughing as I did this. The others began recognizing what I was talking about. Most of them then left as I stayed with it. One or two took ideas with them, which didn’t bother me at all. I was enjoying doing this work by myself, studying ideas and re-arranging them. The wall was by an intersection of two paths, and people constantly passed. Some stopped to ask questions. A few asked for ideas and carried them away when they left. Others arrived with ideas. A few placed them on the wall themselves, some after consulting me. Others were haphazard. Shrugging that off, I just correctly arranged the ideas again.

Dream end

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The Car Mod Dream

Another short dream. I was part of some kind of team. Can’t say it was or wasn’t military but ranks and uniforms weren’t in use. I received a phone call about modifying a car for a mission. The car, a silver 2022 Corvette C8 convertible, belonged to another individual who was more senior in rank. I was to approach him and tell him we were going to use his car, and then make changes to it.

I approached as directed. The guy vaguely reminds me of Paulie “Walnuts” from The Sopranos, played by the late Tony Sirico. I give him the message. He stares at me for about five seconds, grunts hard, then tosses something up against the ceiling where it makes a resounding bang and sticks. As I protest that I’m following instructions, he storms off.

That’s the dream’s essence. Further instructions are received. More mods are needed. I tell ‘Paulie’ that they’re needed and I’m going to do them. His anger increases each time, but he does the same thing in response – throws something against the ceiling. Bang, and cracks. Glares at me. Stalks off. As this plays out, I’m getting angry, too.

But there’s never any cracks on the ceiling the next time it happens. And other than his reaction, I enjoy modifying the car and I’m eager to do the work, and gaining confidence that the team will succeed.

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A Made-for-TV Movie Dream

This dream stretch started first with a vignette of me traveling. I’d just settled into my destination when I jerked awake. Paralysis gripped me as I saw where I was and reacted with shock, This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Where am I? How did I get here? Within a fist of seconds, I knew that I was home. But dream imagery held a little longer, requiring more time for my bafflement to drain. Then, back to sleep and another of Morpheus’s deliveries.

I was not in the next dream at all. This was the movie dream. A man and woman, white, thirtyish, were traveling together in a narrow RV. Ragtag clothes covered them. The man carried a thin, cheap pink cotton blanket while his companion carried a blue one of the same sort. These were the same sort of blankets I saw on many homes in my childhood’s earlier years, when we lived in poorer surroundings, usually on a bed in a small room with sparse furniture.

The couple were stopping for the night and wanted to sleep in a place rented for the purpose. Strangely, not hotel or motel accommodations, nor a house, lodge or cabin. Just a room, twenty feet long and six feet wide (guessing at those numbers), all mattress, dark, with a door on either end. Lacking money, the couple didn’t want to pay for it but wanted to use it so the concocted a plan to sneak into the room, use it for the night, awaken early, and sneak out. They parked their long RV around the corner, where it would be out of sight.

Watching this sequence, I asked, why are they doing this? Why not sleep in the RV? Isn’t that the purpose? I also thought, they’re not going to get away with this. They’re going to get caught.

Yes, they were spotted as they executed their plan and tried sneaking out. The man distracted them, going in one direction as dawn was rising, allowing the woman to reach the RV and drive off. They would meet up on a road outside of town.

But the man needed to get there. He scurried among the shadows around tall buildings and narrow alleys, hiding, working his way out of town. The final hurdle required him to dash through a lobby occupied by the very people hunting him and then sprint across a rocky, open field to a gravel road and then up the gravel road. Dust and sun ruled that space, and five men warily scanned their territory.

Yet, he judged his moment, raced across the lobby’s polished marble floor and fled between two window. Yes, some strange design plan allowed a wall with open space between two tall plates of glass. He’d spotted that and utilized it to get away. Several chased him but he had momentum, distance, and speed.

“That’s alright,” the one man said. Portly, large, with graying hair slicked back over a predominantly bald head, he wore a flowery ‘Hawaiian’ shirt. He was in charge and spoke through guffaws, snorts, and snickers. “Billy gave him a gift. Ain’t that right, Billy?”

“That’s right.” Billy was a lean young man in tight blue denim pants just entering the lobby.

“What was the gift?” a third asked.

The leader said, “A concoction of chemicals that’ll at least make him sick enough to wish himself dead, if he doesn’t die from it.”

We don’t know what happened to our man, whose name was never given. He didn’t make another dream appearance. Instead, his traveling mate, the woman, came in. Dressed in a suit, she had several tall, large men in suits accompanying her. Holding up a badge, she identified herself as a police officer. She’d been working undercover to get evidence on their operation and now arrested them for multiple crimes, including poisoning people. She revealed that she’d come back after them because they’d poisoned her on a previous visit.

The dream began scrambling at that point but I have a sense that the final piece was a report that the man who’d been with her was found by a patrol car.

Dream movie end.

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