Category: Dreams

The Best Years Dream

Totally different environment for me. A young man, I didn’t look anything like the me from RL, except of the commonalities of being a white male with brown hair. I’d joined a household. I’m not sure what my status. I was given tasks and expected to get them done. I was working alone.

I was working alone, going in and out of the kitchen to the outside, as others came but mostly went. They ignored me so I only glanced at them, seeing who they were and so on. My job was to select fruit, mostly pears, to throw away. The pears were large, of the Bartlett or Bosc varieties often found in grocery stores, but larger than you’d find. Some were almost as large as my head.

As I worked this, transferring them from one location to another, I thought, why are we throwing these pears away? After examining them, I questioned what was going on and concluded they would be perfectly good to eat. Changing my process, I removed the tossed pears to a kitchen location and moved the rest of the pears there.

Then, on a whim, I made lunch for everyone. I wasn’t certain what to do and learned on the fly but made and baked a square pizza. Without planning to, I ended up with a house on it. As I did this, I encountered a bearded man with curly hair leaving the bathroom. Saying, “Excuse me,” I pushed past him, but thought, who is he?

I turned back and introduced myself, sticking out my hand as I did. “Michael,” I said.

We shook as he said, “Patrick.” But he didn’t call me Michael at any point in the dream. The name he called me was something like Metcalf.

Most of the people, including the head man, had returned. Seeing the pears, he said, “What are those?”

I explained what I’d done and asked him, “Do you think you can eat these?”

I cut one up for his inspection. As he looked at it, he said, “Where did these come from?”

“There were grown here, in your garden,” I replied.

He looked at a woman beside him and asked, “Is this true?”

“Yes,” she answered.

I gathered that he didn’t know what he was growing here.

Next, I showed them my house pizza. Patrick and others declared that they wouldn’t eat it. They thought it inedible. I defended the pizza but they refused. Shrugging that off, I cut some off and ate it myself, finding it delicious.

We’d moved outside. There were sixteen or seventeen of us on a sloping green lawn. As a sort of outside, I was on the edge and alone. A tiger approached me. Patrick said, “Don’t worry [some name], I’ll take care of him.”

Annoyed, I answered, “That’s not my name, and I’m not worried.”

They began talking. I asked, “What are you talking about?” None replied to me, feeding my irritation.

Finally Patrick said, “You haven’t said what you think, [some name].”

I said, “Why can’t you get my name right? I introduced myself to you. I’m Michael. And I can’t say what I think because none of you would tell me what you’re talking about.”

The head guy said, “We’re talking about how we would summarize 2022. What would you say about it?”

After a second of thought, I said, “I’d call it one of the best years in the last fifty years.” I was saying that to get a rise out of them because they’d been saying that it was a bad year. Then, doing the math, because ‘fifty’ was an impulse, I realized that fifty years ago was when I turned sixteen.

Dream end.

0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

It’s a nice day for a white sky. Trees still demonstrate a belly-dance shimmy to the wind’s energetic music. Temperatures have climbed to 41 F. Sunshine sneaks in, lays a flash on us, and darts back away. A high of 46 F is on the way, they say.

Today is Tuesday, Jan. 3, 2023. I find myself surprised. Tuesday, already? Three days into the new year. Well, that was fast. It’s like the year is racing in to claim it as its own. Sunrise was at the same time as the last two days, 7:40 AM, but sunset has moved another minute back, to 4:51 PM. I cherish the extra light.

News has me delayed from the posting the theme music. First there was news that another friend died last year. Nobody knew what had happened to her. We kept asking others. Yesterday, we learned that she died the Tuesday night before Thanksgiving. Processing that used some emotional currency. Then, watching that NFL game last night, and witnessing what happened to the Bills Safety, Damar Hamlin. I instantly thought, cardiac arrest from how he dropped. When they mentioned he was hit in the chest during the play and I saw the impact, I was absolutely certain, and waited to hear what happened to him. Yes, it’s a violent game. The world is a violent place and yet we play these games. It’s another part of my socialization, playing it as a child, through my teenage years, and then watching it. I admire and appreciate the athleticism and experience vicarious joy when my team wins or the players do well. Hamlin’s injury is a terrible shock and highlights my frustrations with myself and my choices. Regardless, I despise those who try to blame Hamlin’s collapse on COVID-19 vaccinations. They offer no proof. They disgust me.

Then there was the House Speaker drama. Kevin McCarthy did not win. Not surprising to anyone following the buildup. What’s terrible is the impact to House business. None can be done until a Speaker is voted in. The question before us is, will compromise among the GOP factions be achieved so that we can move forward? The last time this happened, I read, was in 1923. Nine votes were required to elect a Speaker that year.

I’ve been swimming in dreams for the last two weeks. Reviewing today’s dreams, I thought, it’s a good thing that I’m not being charged for my dreams. Wouldn’t that be an interesting world? No dreams allowed until you pay the dream tax. That’s the law.

Anyway, as part of that cogitation, The Neurons burst into the morning mental music stream with a Blondie song from 1979, “Dreaming”. Seems to fit. Besides the nocturnal brain action, the energetic music affirms plans, hopes, and efforts — you know, the elements of the real-world dreams which I pursue through writing, plotting, and murder. Oops, not the last. Nobody has been harmed in my RW dreams except my ass and various organs.

Stay pos and test neg. I’m about to murder another cup o’ coffee. Hope good fortune has kick-started your 2023 and you can ride that fortune all year long. Cheers

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‘Nother Military Dream

It was another military dream but with a marked difference. First, a friend, Jeff, who was also in the military was in the dream.

I was at some unidentified Air Force base. I was a chief master sergeant, E9, and was due to attend a conference of CMS that was due to start. (This is two ranks above my RL retired rank.) I worried about my hair, my uniform, and my shoes as attendees began arriving. But I slipped away and pressed my uniform, taking care of that, putting razor sharp creases in it. Then I stayed low until the barber opened. When I walked into the barber shop, there were two barbers and no customers, so either one could immediately cut my hair. Both knew me by name.

After getting my hair cut, I left the shop and looked down at my shoes. They were scuffed and old. I said to myself, those aren’t my shoes, and they immediately changed into highly polished new shoes.

I felt a lot better about myself. I ran into Jeff, also a CMS. He and I chatted. I ended up telling him about a cousin who died of cancer (a cancer did die of cancer in RL). We were walking around as we talked. Female military spouses were all over the place, and they kept flirting with me. The attention flattered me.

Jeff and I stayed together through the morning, sitting down and eating. Then the conference was due to start. Another CMS came up and asked if I was going, because it was getting under way. I told him that I’d left the military twice and came back twice, but now I’m done. I wasn’t going to attend. I was taking off my uniform and leaving.

I went off to find a bathroom. When I found one, I undressed and then peed and discovered that my pecker was half purple. One of the wives walked in on me. While taking a long look at my body, she apologized for entering. I replied, “I don’t mind. I’m just wondering why my penis is half purple.”

Dream end.

0

A Bookish Dream

A new position for me had been offered and accepted, and this was my first day. I continued writing around my work schedule. I asked for and gained permission to use work facilities for my writing.

My work location was a towering and modern white edifice, churchy in its serenity, very peaceful. The position was as a research assistant. Basically, I was staff to several teachers. I would go to the modern library and go through the ancient information which was stored there. Docents, librarians, and other assistants were in the library to help me find and understand my research and take it back to the requesting teacher.

For my writing, I used the facilities to create a gigantic digital white board. I found that I could speak to the computer and rearrange things on that white board. Two to three stories tall, it was a dozen feet wide. One of the women I worked for was a previous college professor who taught a creative writing class that I attended in RL. When she saw my writing board, she was immensely curious and complimentary, asking if I could make something like that available to others. Of course I could. I would get right on it.

Not so fast. She fast had a project for me researching a woman named Alice Fingersmith. I knew the last name. I’d read a book by that name and saw a television series based on the movie. I wondered if I’d heard right.

After going to the library, I asked the staff where to go to best start my research. Seeing that I was drinking kombucha, the male staff member, a tall and young fellow, offered to make me orange flavored kombucha because he thought I would like it. The female, who looked and acted just like Poppy from Mystic Quest (the RL Apple TV series), showed me where to find information on Alice Fingersmith.

Fingersmith’s information should be in a low, wooden filing cabinet. The cabinet was so low I needed to get on my knees to open the drawers and look in them. Finding the right one, based on last names, I pulled the drawer open and rifled through the files until I came to a place holder for Alice Fingersmith’s files. There were only small scraps of paper within. I drew a few out and then read them.

Poppy and the male staff member came to me. As he gave me my orange drink, she asked how I was doing. I told them about the files, showing them, and drank the orange drink, finding it very tasty. They were puzzled about why the file was empty as it was and decided they would request a search to see if others in the system had Fingersmith info or knew why information was missing from the file.

I’d been looking at the scraps of paper in the file. I realized the requesting teacher and Fingersmith may have been lovers. I thought the teacher would prefer discretion so I told the two to hold off. Then I took the papers I’d found and went to find the instructor.

Dream end.

2

Friday’s Theme Music

A colorless, empty sky drips on us. Friday, 12/30/2022 — 30/12/2022, if you will — has come in from the wild.

Three songs share the rotation in the morning mental music stream. I don’t know if the dream caused it, but they were regurgitated out of memory when I started thinking about the dream. Mom and two of my sisters featured in the dream about crosswalk safety and clogged sinks.

But, first, daylight commenced at 7:39 when light slowly gained influence behind the cloud lid over the valley. Rain was falling and the furnace’s warm air passed against me like a friendly animal waiting for attention. Daylight’s end is expected at 4:48 PM. We’re sitting at 42 F and the day has a lofty goal of 46 F in mind. Between light, rain, and temperature — and my activities of reading, writing, cleaning, plus the usual bio needs for human and felines — it’s a narrowly defined day. Getting ready for the big 2022 send-off. What do you think, will 2023 be a better year? I think another average year is in store. With averages, it’s different for each of us, innit?

Led Zeppelin kicked off its residence in the morning mental music stream with “Whole Lotta Love” from good old 1969. It wasn’t long as the dream elements arose for inspection that Gerry Rafferty began “Baker Street”, a song he released in 1978. The musical trio was completed with Loggins and Messina, “Your Mama Don’t Dance”, 1972. An interesting grouping of sounds, artists, and years. Don’t know the connection to the dream. Maybe one isn’t there. Perhaps Les Neurons just said, “Boy, I really like this song.” Or maybe something embedded in the environment, noted by the senses, ordered, “Play this song.”

Well, Rafferty with “Baker Street” is playing loudest and most frequently, so that’ll be the day’s theme music. “Light in your head and dead on your feet, well another crazy day,” and so on.

Stay positive if you can — I know it can be hard and varies for each of us — and test negative, if you can. Got any New Year’s Eve plans? I do, starting a cuppa coffee, a little flavor of normalcy for another rainy winter day. Cheers

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

My mischievous Neurons have been busy as a DJ this morning. “Jamie’s Crying” (Van Halen) was first up. Then, “Running with the Devil”. Next, Zucchero with “Diavolo In Me”. Then INX, “Devil Inside”. What the what? I’ve settled now on Grateful Dead with “The Devil Is A Friend of Mine” from 1970.

I don’t know what inspired The Neurons. I recall one short dream and two movie style dreams but nothing else happened at night or yesterday which would make me consciously think, “Say, some music about the devil would sound good right now.” Weird.

Get out your Wednesday best. It’s December 28, 2022. Are you counting down the days or hours until 2023. I’m seeing a lot of posts online about things to do to make your 2023 better. Seems like many think 2022 wasn’t a good year. It had its ebbs and flows for me. These things kept re-balancing the year. I’d say it turned out neither horrible or terrific for me. After all the transactions and their results are tallied, I had an average year. Hope yours was excellent.

Sunshine came in like a cat doing a royal stroll at 7:39, dragging light and warmth with it. We’re 37 degrees F at the moment and expect (drum roll) a 48 F high and maybe some rain. Sunlight will ditch us with its setting at 4:46 this evening.

I hear from weather postings that the wind and rainstorm which we had, product of an atmospheric river, is moving east and causing others issues. Good luck to them.

Stay positive and test negative. I do believe my coffee is ready for a close encounter of the drinking kind. Here’s the Dead. Cheers

1

A Super Bowl Dream

A short and mildly innocuous dream was last night’s feature offering to me. In my early thirties, over thirty years less than RL, I walked around with a small group of people. We were all chatting and having a good time. I don’t know who else was in that little crowd but all were known to me in the dream. We were talking about going to the Super Bowl because we had tickets and arrangements had been made. My dream self had been to several past Super Bowls, but I also seemed to be some kind of SB savant. People would ask who played in what SB and I would answer with the year, teams, and final score, along with any special facts that arose out of the game, like records being set or amazing plays.

Encountering others who said they’d been to Super Bowls, I’d ask them about their experiences. Among these were several young couples. After talking about them and wowing them with my knowledge of the games they’d attended, one of the guys, grinning, said, “Wow, you’re like a super man.” We all laughed.

Dream end.

0

Three Dreams

Seduction, destruction, confusion, and security. Short summaries of sharply remembered dreams where I felt these things.

My first remembered dream from last night’s slumbering had me being seduced. This woman and I were traveling with others. All of us then got in bed together. She turned to me and told me that she wanted to have sex with me and moved her hands along my body. She said, she’d thought about it, and I deserved it. I was eager and ready but, hello, there are other people in the bed. She said that she’d spoken with them and that they’d agreed. As she said that, the other three left the bed. I kissed her and she reciprocated.

Dream censored.

Second in the dream line was about destruction being wrought by an evil baby head.

I found myself in an empty old Victorian style home. Going through the rooms, I discovered a huge black trunk in a room upstairs by a window. I opened it. Line with gray inside, its only contents was a smaller black bag which reminded me of a bowling ball bag. As soon as I opened the bag, a baby’s head floated out. White but mottled, it had no body, a constant leer, and thin hair, and was alive. Dread emanated from it, soaking me. I was immediately dispirited. I quickly found it had master telepathic control of others and telekinesis as it threw boulders with its mind and created slaves of other people. Understanding that it had no good intentions, I managed to get behind it while it wasn’t paying attention and get it into the trunk. Slamming the lid shut, I locked it but realized that I could still hear it in my head. I realized it had been in that other black bag to block its thoughts and powers.

I fled, trying to get distance from the baby head, driving along old and narrow country roads, going up a mountain. I soon found myself lost with a black spirit. The baby’s voice was diminished but I felt its presence. Leaving the car to look around and figure out where I was, I decided that I needed to go back and destroy the baby’s head.

End of dream.

Finally, I had a dream about a wealthy old man. White, he was quite old and thin, and favored a monocle, black silk top hat, and a black walking cane topped with a diamond. Suited in a black suit with morning coat, he wore a white bow tie and traveled about in an all-black ‘car’. This car was essentially several rooms, like a narrow black land yacht with a design out of the 1930s. As said, extremely wealthy, he was in charge of everything, he declared, and he didn’t any changes. Large, serious expression men in black suits provided constant security.

I, a young man, was with him in this cluttered and narrow beast of a car. He’d chosen me to write his biography, so I was there to listen to him tell his life story and give me his wisdom so that I could compile it all. Like him, I was dressed in a white shirt and black suit, but with a black tie. His aide, an older man, was dressed as I was.

I was enjoying myself as others brought me tea and pastries while we drove around the city in the mechanical beast. Observing everyone, distraction set in, and I entertained myself by figuring out how the old man could be abducted, and then created a story concept around it. Pleased, I shared that with the old man.

Well, he was outraged, shouting, “Balderdash, that could never happen.” Then he stormed out of that section and into the car’s rear. I knew that he was upset because I’d pointed out a security vulnerability. The elderly aide chastised me in gentle, polite tones for upsetting the old man, who the aide revered. I explained to the aide how I was right, showing and demonstrating the car’s vulnerability on which I based my story. His expression told me that he knew I was right. He went off to comfort his boss.

Dream end.

Yes, I see how black dominates these dreams, as does power and desire.

0

A Dad Dream

I was at some wildly busy location, flitting between meeting people, attending parties, eating foods — especially desserts — and working on some new business.

I’d arrived there via a large, black and shiny car provided by my father. The car was luxurious, expensive, and impressive. After hunting for a parking space, I double-parked on the street because I was late. Promising myself to come back soon to move the car because I might be blocking another in, I rushed into the complex. Piles of food were on tables, and I was urged to eat. I did eat some finger food, and a small bit of dessert, just to be nice, I told them, all of us laughing. The food was fantastic, so I had a little more and then went on to meet with others.

I encountered Dad. He was involved in some new business venture. To support his business plan, he’d developed a table of projected aggregate growth and had me look it over. I did, then went to meet with his potential backers.

The backers’ side, people who were going to fund Dad’s business, included my mentor. The mentor — never actually seen in the dream but heard from via others — had worked up numbers for Dad’s new business, too. The numbers between the two camps were grossly different. The two sides used me as an intermediary to bridge the differences. I mostly dealt with Dad, telling him again and again that my mentor thought Dad’s numbers were overly optimistic. We argued the venture’s fine points. I wanted to see his business plan but piqued, he refused to show me. He wouldn’t even tell me what the business was about, annoying me.

I went back to the mentor and spoke to an assistant, explaining Dad’s logic, defending it, really, and then asked to see their plans and projections. They wouldn’t let me have them and sent me back to Dad.

I returned to my car to move it, but there still wasn’t anywhere else to put it. I needed to leave it there, which worried me, but another person, a stranger to me, assured me it was fine and not to worry about it. I put the car out of mind.

I went back to Dad. He and my mentor were going to meet later. Dad told me to check into my room, clean up and rest so that I could join them later.

I went outside to a huge round bricked plaza. Great crowds of people prowled and socialized there because some convention was going on. Finding the front desk, I was given my room key. It was round, with concentric wheels of numbers on it. Each wheel of numbers told me where I was to go to find my room, starting with the outer wheel. The numbers were all in gold but used different fonts. As I looked at the wheel, a smiling man sitting in a chair, holding a drink, legs crossed, told me that the outer wheel’s numbers referred to the stairs to use. He then explained in an aside to a woman sitting beside him that the keys often confused newcomers.

But I knew how to use the key and told him. The outer gold letters were 4-2. I went off and found the stairs labeled 4-2. Before I went up to my room, though, Dad came and gave me his business plan to look over. Sitting down, I discovered that he’d hugely scaled it down from what he’d told me. It seemed like a completely different idea from what he’d explained, too. This had to do with some kind of ice cream confectionary shop that served other food with the ice cream. They were going to start with twenty shops in seven locations.

The changes dismayed me. I warned him that competition already existed doing what he proposed, and that his plan wasn’t as unique or revolutionary as he seemed to think. He was unfazed because the mentor had told him it was a good idea, and they were going to proceed. I was summoned to go eat, so I left it at that and went to find my table.

Dream end.

4

An In-Law Dream

My Mother- and Father-in-law, both deceased, showed up in my dream last night, along with Dad, who is alive. I was young and with my in-laws at their house, along with Dad, who was visiting. I was outside when I turned and looked at their house. This dream house was nothing like any of the homes they lived in dring the time I knew them. They had changed this house, though, installing a flat front facade in a deep slate blue color that really appealed to me. I complimented them on the color change, enthusing about it. They then added a flat white latticed gate, which popped again the blue. Whole thing came across as stylish, modern, and sharp, which, honestly, counters their RL simple country style. Dad was helping with the gate. As they finished, I walked over and checked it out. I discovered two machine head screws at the bottom sticking out of the gate.

I complained about the screws sticking out, chiding them about not finishing in a joking way that we’d shared with one another throughout my adult hood. Dad and FIL replied that the screws were fine. But I went over to finish screwing them in. When I applied pressure, the screws slid in without any resistance. I said, “There’s nothing behind these screws. They won’t help at all.” They ignored that and walked off.

Dream shift, we’re inside, playing some silly game tossing a ball around that none of the others would ever do in RL. None were ever silly that way around me. I was back in the right corner, which had a hallway leading to another area. The walls were pale green. I began examining them more closely and discovered mold growing on the walls. I pointed this out to them and said that something needs to be done. When none of the rest responded, I began cleaning them.

Another dream shift found me outside again, in my pajamas. Bright sunshine lit the broad fields and short bushes. I knew it was mid-afternoon. Someone kicked a football around. I decided to go out and play. My FIL said as an aside that someone serious about it would not be barefoot and in their pajamas. Ignoring him, I went out after the ball. It bounced behind me. Catching it on a bounce, I raced across the field. A small girl in pink pajamas attempted to tackle me. She had no chance but I didn’t want to hurt her so I stopped and let get me.

Dream end.

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