Category: Dreams

The Help Dream

Sunshine streamed in through large windows. I was younger and installing something involving wires in my home’s living room when I asked my wife for help. I needed to go back into a small space and I wanted her to hand the wires through to me. She asked me if I could do it by myself. I countered, I could, but she was there, and that made it easier.

She said, “How would you do it if I wasn’t here?”

I replied, “I have a ball of twine. I’d tie the wires’ ends to the string, and then tape it so it wouldn’t pull loose, and then just pull it through.”

Turning away, she answered, “Then why don’t you do that? Just do it yourself.”

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A Long Melancholy Dream

AKA, the Four Cars Dream

It could have been known as the Big House Dream, as well. Although I was about forty years old at the dream’s beginning, I was twenty at the end.

It began with a search for car keys.

I was looking for the keys for a car I owned when I was twenty, a signal orange Porsche 914. The drawer where I kept the keys was shallow and white. Another set of keys, for my RX-7, was in there, but where were the Porsche keys?

I began going through the house looking. The house was huge, rambling, and one story, with many low stone arches. Every room was empty except for that first one, which had a desk. This was my house; I’d newly acquired it.

Unable to find the keys, I ambled around the house until I stopped in one long and wide, all-white room. One piece of white furniture, a sort of stand turned upside down, was in it. Finding a can of black paint, I painted the stand. Finding other cans, I spray-painted the walls purple. As I finished up, a large, rotund, bald man with huge, muscular arms came in.

“There you are,” he said. “I need you to come with me.” He looked around at the painted room. “Nice job.”

I knew he was my minder and followed him. I was thirty by now. My minder told me that there was someone to see me. My minder showed me to the door.

Walking up a residential street, I encountered my old friend, Jeff. I haven’t seen or heard from him in RL in almost forty years. Jeff told me he had exciting news. He’d inherited a classic Porsche 911 from a friend. The guy had completely rebuilt it, and the car was pristine. Truly impressed, I congratulated Jeff. Jeff then said that he had a car for me and gave me the keys to a BMW. He said that he didn’t need it and he wanted me to have it.

I was flattered. I tried to turn it down. Jeff insisted. I accepted the keys to the car. The car wasn’t around. Jeff was going to have it shipped to me.

We parted. He went back up a hill, and I returned to my house.

I was now in my mid-twenties, wearing a brown leather jacket which I remember owning from RL. My minder was there, along with a girl who I knew to be sixteen. Her dark brown hair, like the color of oak, was long and shiny, framing a petite oval face. She smiled often, shyly. She wore jeans and a white button-down men’s shirt. She never said her name that I heard.

The minder left us. We chatted, with her peppering me with questions. Hearing a noise, I went out through one of the larger stone arches. It was late dusk, and the light was low. This arch opened to a path that entered the woods. I thought I heard and saw people down the path. It was my property, so I was concerned about what they were doing. As I walked, I picked up several flat stones to throw, if needed, as protection.

The girl had stayed back. After I returned, she questioned me about what was going on. I told her about the people and stood ready with the rocks. Young people came down the path, but they turned away from my house and property and kept going. Not needing my rocks, I set them down. With the BMW keys in hand from Jeff, I returned to the search for my Porsche car keys. This time I found them in the drawer where I’d first search. There was nothing else in the drawer. I thought that they must not have been there before, and someone must have placed them there after I’d searched.

I was now twenty. The minder returned. He said that Jeff wanted to see me. I went to the front door. Appearing very old, sad, and tired, Jeff told me that he’d decided to give me the Porsche which he inherited. I tried talking him out of it. He told me that he drove the car and saw himself in it, and that he looked ridiculous. The car didn’t fit him, but he believed it would suit me. Handing me the keys, he left.

I went outside of my house and sat against one of its stone walls. The girl came out and asked what was wrong. I told her that I was thinking about my friends and how I missed them. She noticed the keys and inquired after them. I told them that they were to four cars which I owned, and then described them. I could see each one. My Porsche was an orange 1974 model; the BMW was also a 1974 model. The green 911 Jeff gave me was a 1971 model year, and the blue Mazda was a 1981, which I had bought. She was most impressed when I mentioned the BMW, calling it a Bimmer. She said she really liked them. I answered, “No, you don’t understand, this is a vintage car from the 1970s, a white 2002. You’ve probably never seen one. They stopped making them before you were born.” I remembered then that I’d owned a BMW 2002 in RL and became confused: was I dreaming or remembering?

More dream followed about taking a trip with other people, but this is where I’ll stop.

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The Black Dog Dream

This was another military dream but, with twists to it that made the military component less significant.

So, yeah, in the military, young again, running a command post, killing time. I’m waiting for something to happen, so I start going through the daily logs. First, I’m superintendent and I’m expected to review and initial the logs each day. Second, the logs should reflect what checklist actions have been taken by the controllers on duty. I want to ensure they’re doing their jobs as expected when I’m not around.

I go through a bit of that, making comments. The command post is lightly busy around me, slower than a typical day, with people calling in on the radios and the telephones ringing and being answered. My mood is buoyant; whatever I’m waiting to have happen has me hopeful and excited, full of anticipation. Going through personnel rosters, I note that we’ve lost several people, which lowers the assigned total to perfectly fit all needs. That delights me to bizarre levels. Every position filled, and no one left for me to ‘find a job’ for them. Great. I go through the names, recognizing people who worked for me before, and then do a casual audit of the communication security code books on hand, ensuring they’re being properly maintained. Everything is in perfect order!

I’m abruptly changed into civilian clothes, which surprises me, but it’s a good thing, I decide, ala Martha Stewart. Then I’m looking for my dogs. I should have three. (NOTE: In RL, I’ve never owned a dog.) I find one of them. I recall the second one passed away, which saddens me. But the third, a small black Yorkie in my mind, should be there.

I begin walking around the command post, looking for the missing black dog. As I do, others question me about what I’m doing. They don’t seem to be able to comprehend my answers. As I’m responding and still looking, I see the dog bounding down a small ravine. Well, there he is, I think, happy to know that, and going after him.

I leave the command post but can’t find the ravine. I know that’s where the dog, so how do I get there? The dream ends as I’m turning in circles, trying to understand where to go to reach the dog…

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The Blue Car Dream

This was a surprisingly short dream, and all in blue with very low lighting. The framing for all of this was very tight, staying focused on me — young again, with long, thick hair — and just the car and our very immediate background, which was blurred. I’d just been bequeathed a dark blue car. Low and wide, shaped like a blunt wedge, it was built for speed and barely came up to my thighs. Its wheels were large, and its tires were fat, and its glass was darkly tinted. Dark, dark, dark blue, reminding me of the old Penske Sunoco blue on the cars that Mark Donahue drove at Indy, and Can Am, Trans Am, and sports car racing, I walked around it, looking for a manufacturer’s badge or logo, but found none.

I heard someone — and it might have been me, to be honest, because I think it was in my head — say, “Get in and go.”

Go? Go where? Get in? How?

I didn’t see any door handles. I couldn’t even tell where the doors were. There were no lines or breaks. The car was completely seamless. Its headlights were flat, narrow slits, as were its front air intakes. I thought it could be a BMW, but it could also be a Ferrari or Tesla, McLaren or Mercedes. It could be anything.

As I walked around, scratching my head and going through the question, how does the door open, the door just opened. It was a scissor type door, raising up instead of turning out. I peered into a blue interior that seemed both plush and spartan, built solely for two, and finished in dark blues that were even darker than the body.

Breathless with excitement and anticipation, I slipped in behind the wheel and looked around, sucking up details. The door closed as the seats embraced me. Arms wrapped across my waist and chest, startling and frightening me until I realized they were like seatbelts except they were part of the seat and sealed themselves, holding me tight in the soft seat. The steering wheel was small and moved toward me when I reached for it. A soft rumbling began. A dashboard with low blue lights lit up.

I chuckled to myself, thinking, someone likes blue. The steering wheel was flat on its top and bottom and fit perfectly to my hands. The car smelled new. But, how was that possible, when someone left it to me or gave it to me?

I selected a gear with a small, black handle to my right and pressed on the gas. The car moved silently forward into a blue-black night as I grinned and thought, this will be fun.

Dream end.

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The Magic Models Dream

The dream began with me in a small town with two friends, a male and female. We were all youngish, I’d guess in our twenties. An attack by Russian aircraft on another place in the world was underway. I had three models of the aircraft involved in my hands. These models were about a foot long but made of plastic. Somehow, using magic and the models, we were able to down the five jets. We knew this by watching it in a shallow puddle of water. Although the three of us were involved, the other two credited me with doing it.

Afterward, as we walked around the small town, with its parks and wide, quiet streets, news of what we’d done spread. People kept showing up out of nowhere asking for details and then asking if we could do it again. I was certain that we could. My female friend arrived with a video camera and told me that she wanted to interview me. Then she would broadcast it and put it on the net. I agreed to that, and was ready with the models, but small matters kept delaying us from beginning the interview.

She said that we would do it later and walked off after I agreed. I walked around more with the models and came to a fast moving, swollen creek. While watching the water rising up over rocks and crashing down, I grew aware that I could see other scenes happening in it. They mesmerized me. Leaning in to see things more clearly, I lost one of the models in the water. After some frantic searching for it, I spotted it floating down the creek and rushed after it.

With a little effort, I captured the model as it passed under a bridge. I realized then that it was time for me to meet my friend for the interview. As I arrived there, people approached me and told me that news crews from CBS and NBC were there to interview me. Someone else told me someone wanted to have me on their television show but I couldn’t understand the television show.

I saw my friend set up with the camera by a pavilion under a wide oak tree. I told everyone that I had to do my interview with her first and then walked in her direction.

Dream end.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Sunshine blasted my eyes like a hot arc lamp this morning. 79 degrees F, they say it will be, up from the 62 we saw yesterday. 79 is an ideal temperature for sitting outside with friends, drinking a beer, talking about science, politics, books, and current events. That’s what I’ll be doing this afternoon.

This is Wednesday, Mary 4, 2022. That sunrise came at 6:03 AM today. The heater was on there, because we were still recovering from chilly dampness that made the air feel like we were in an abandoned mansion’s basement. At daylight’s other end, we’ll turn from the sun at 8:13 PM in our valley.

I have “Seven Wonders” by Fleetwood Mac playing in the morning mental music stream. This was directly from a dream. I’d been dreaming one thing, a muddied, dark vision that had me turning, looking for an exit. I thought I’d already turned in every direction but then, feeling trapped, with everythinoug closing in, I turned again.

And there was not just a rainbow, but the rainbow’s end, a blazing prism of light just a dozen feet away. Each band of light was sharply defined, and as twice as wide as body. And I thought in the dream, “Cool, the rainbow’s end.”

Naturally, when I awoke and remembered that, the neurons started playing the 1987 Fleetwood Mac song, keying on the lyrics, “I’ll make a path to the rainbow’s end,” and the chorus goes, “Rainbow’s edge.” That was enough for my cheeky neurons.

Stay positive and test negative. Coronavirus variants, and subvariants, and sub-subvariants are still emerging, but science, medicine, and time are dealing with it. Hope you enjoy some music whilst I enjoy some coffee. Cheers

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Sunshine prevails today. Tuesday’s sky can be described as mostly sunny or mostly cloudy. Both seem correct. While sunshine washes over everything in the valley, large clouds brood like waiting bears, shadowing large swaths of land.

Yes, it’s May 3, 2022. Our high is gonna be 64 F, they say, about ten degrees higher than it is at the mo’. The sunrise cometh at 6:01AM. The other end of the daylight session ends at 8:13 PM. Tomorrow, the weather ‘they’ say, we’ll see 79 F.

After a series of dark, messy, and splashy dreams, the neurons summoned a Nine Inch Nails song. Released in 2006, “Every Day Is Exactly the Same”, some of the lyrics go, “Every day is exactly the same.” Which sometimes is how my life feels, outside of writing. Feeding cats and taking care of them, house and yard work, the eternally aggravating question of “What’s for dinner,” dressing and eating, reading news, doing errands, reading books. Yet, in many ways, that’s how it was when working and in the military, too. The world is built on bureaucracies and routines. Sometimes, though, that tedium gets me. It’s funny, but I know this song because one of the QA guys who worked for me when I managed a tech support group introduced it to me. He no longer worked for me by that time, but sent me an email after the song came out, telling me about it, and mentioning, “It reminded me of what you used to say.” I still laugh about that.

Stay positive — yeah, who am I to talk? Test negative, etc. Here we go, music and coffee. Cheers

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A Messy Dream

Although, it was in a military setting, I thought the messy theme provided the important aspect.

Young again, I was with a bunch of other military in a battlestaff room. Large and horse-shoe shaped, it had multiple phones, display panels, maps, flags, all that sort of thing. Unlike standard battlestaff areas, this one had large windows, too, showing that we were in the middle of the night.

I knew all the military there. We weren’t working, but just hanging around together. It seemed like a large party with elements of a sleepover. I had an impression that was never clarified that we were waiting for something. Plates, food, sleeping bags, and pillows cluttered the place, offending my sense of order.

Knots of conversation were going on. Laughter abounded, and pizza and vegetable trays were set up. Almost all the others were officers. They teased me about being serious. I walked around, eating food, looking for things to do, feeling isolated. Some were gathered around an older style television, large and square, full of tubes. They were watching red and black action and trying to figure out what it was. I joined them and realized they were watching the ‘TNT’ cable network, and then said, “This is a NASCAR race.” Bizarrely, the screen was almost all black; the cars were outlined in bright red.

I went on from that, shaking my head, and then decided to leave to get clothes. I hastened to my place. Getting there just required going down corridors and around corners. Reaching there, I found my wife all dressed up to go out. She said she wanted to go back with me. I said, “Why not?”

When we returned, I did a general introduction of my wife. I sat and she sat on my lap, flirting with me and kissing me. I enjoyed this but then she said she was going back to our place. That was fine. Whatever was going on seemed to be drawing down as about half of the gathered personnel trickled out. Walking around, I discovered phone lines blinking. I asked, “Why isn’t anyone answering any of these phones?”

One of the others replied, “We didn’t want to.”

Annoyed, I began answering phones. Nobody was on usually. Walking around, I discovered that they’d taken the hotlines off their cradles. Back in the decades I was in the military, these phones were red, black, and yellow. All were set off by themselves and were dedicated to specific purposes — one was the red phone which hooked up to headquarters and national command authorities. The black one was for the secondary crash net, for when a major accident was happening, used to pass information to many agencies at once. Beside it was a dark green one, used to connect with the Central Security Center. Another, which was green, was the AUTOVON system, a sort of military long-distance calling network.

All these phones were off their cradles, horrifying me. As I chastised the others, they laughed off my concerns. I also discovered that the UHF & VHF radios were turned off.

Oh, my God, I couldn’t believe it. They’d basically ignored all calls or disabled all communication systems. As I did, I found muddy foot prints all over the floors.

I went about fixing it all. Hard rain began pelting the windows. I looked around and discovered the others were gone, leaving only a mess.

Dream end.

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Monday’s Theme Music

April showers are now May showers. May 2, 2022, has brought Monday rain along with the now standard chilly temperature of 42 F. We expect 53 today. Sunrise was in interesting swarming of sunshine among swarming gray clouds and splashes of rain at 6:05. The sun’s daily turn will end at 8:11 this evening.

We had a gorgeous one yesterday, topping 70 F without a cloud in the air. The memorial service, a block party held on the street in front of his house and hosted by his widow, a sweet, retired nurse named Char, was well-attended, friendly, and oddly happy. Maybe it was the weather. Plenty of food was brought and shared. Anecdotes and accolades were dished out. Laughter ensued. Tears were wiped away. Gazes up at the blue sky were noted.

After the service, I returned home, checked today’s weather and went out for yard work. Alas, my string trimmer died on me after I was two-thirds completed. I suspect a switch and have found a video with a possible fix from people reporting the same problem and symptoms. I’ll be pursuing that later today. I’m coming to love DIY.

Today finds the neurons playing “Find Your Way Back” by Jefferson Starship from 1981. Yeah, it’s all mind games, coming about when I came out of a dream during the night. I wanted to find my way back to it and see how it ended. While that’s often successful, I failed this time. The song came out just a month before my wife and I were heading on our first overseas assignment. I’d already been overseas unaccompanied, but this was going to be a three to four year stay on Okinawa. Turned out to be a good one for us.

Anyway, here is the music. Hope you can stay positive and test negative, that you endure and prosper. Hope I can find a cup of coffee somewhere around the house in the next few minutes. I guess I’ll check the kitchen.

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The Conversation Dream

I dreamed I was with a few men speaking with a male teenager. We were all sitting around a table. The young man was talking about a book. He said it was called Halo. He was talking about how it’d come out in 1972, and then commenting, “How can anyone remember anything from then?”

I said, “I read the book when it came out.”

He asked, “How much of it do you remember?”

“Not much. I was about sixteen and in high school. I was reading many books then, and doing sports, and taking classes.”

“That’s my point,” the teenager said. “You can’t remember things from then.”

I answered, “I remember reading Catching in the Rye a few years before that, and Catch 22, and The Hobbit, and Lord of the Rings, Fahrenheit 451, and Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. I don’t remember Halo.”

The kid said, “I’ve never heard of those books, but I did see Foundation on TV. It was okay.”

Dream end.

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