Category: Dreams

A Short Dream

I was with my wife’s family. She wasn’t present but all of them that I ever knew, alive or dead, were there.

It was a reunion and joy was the mode as people were recognized and greetings exchanged. I became the host, asking people what they would like to eat and drink. Both of those were limited to start and then quickly became consumed. Mamaw was the last to arrive. I told her that I could give her tea or brussel sprouts, but only one, because I only had one cup left, unless, of course, she wanted to have them together.

She answered, “Brussel sprouts in my tea. Well, I never have but I like both, so let’s do that.”

I responded with surprise, questioning her, confirming she was sure, but served her tea with brussel sprouts.

Time to go! Everyone began rushing around. I hurried around screen to another part of the dream. There, I had a large black stallion named Bolt. Bolt came to greet me. I told him, “Time to give you away.” I knew he was okay with that as he pranced around and neighed. He seemed happy and I laughed watching him. The auction started and the dream ended.

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The Flying Fart Dream

Outside, in a city – maybe a U.S. suburb – at a broad intersection along under clear blue skies. I fart without warning. It’s not a large thing, just a sort of sharp, “Pop,” but with it, I take off perhaps fifty feet into the air and travel several hundred feet. Then, in dream fashion, I’m at the same point, and in quick succession, it happens twice more.

On the fourth time, I kept wind of what was happening (yeah, sorry, had to put it in). I asked myself, how can a fart like that propel me so high and far? There had to be another cause, like weather. I crane all around for what could be behind my flights. Then I fart again, launching anew, traveling the same path, height, and distance.

It must be the farts, I conclude, and wonder what I ate to give me such prodigiously powerful gas. Time is spent pondering that but I’m back on the corner, releasing without warning one more fart.

This time, I think, try to take advantage of it. I spread my arms like wings and flatten my body into a plan and lean forward. Doing this, I catch a breeze, traveling further and higher than before.

Back at my original spot, I’m laughing at events. I fly via a fart. If I learned what was fueling me, maybe I could go further. Then again, I’m always back at the same place, like some perverse Groundhog Day twist.

End dream.

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The 14 & 23 Dream

Another string of dreams rumbled through last night. A few were fragmented, disrupted by kitty maneuvering. One stood out for me.

No background to it. Opened with me saying, “It’s fourteen.” Another, ‘off-screen’, replied, “It’s twenty-three.”

I responded, “No, I counted, and it’s fourteen.”

They rejoined, “Twenty-three.”

Then — epiphany. I said, “Wait, it’s 1423.”

Confused murmurs rolled through the dreamscape. Then a beaming black man who I knew was a doctor confronted me. “You solved it! It’s 1423! Well done.”

Dream end.

Or maybe it was just a fragment.

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Good Time Dreams

My nocturnal dream stream continued at a frantic pace. Two stood out for various causes.

The first found me vacationing with friends. We were middle-aged and having a ball, even though a tsunami was apparently threatening us. We were down on the beach but we just went up into the mountains and set up a separate camp. Music was being played, food and drink was consumed, and we laughed, having a good time. I returned to our beach camp with several others. Camp sites were set up shoulder to ass. Young women in a nearby site were complaining about the lack of room and nothing to do. Seeing us having fun and enjoying ourselves, they came over and asked, “What’s our secret?”

We said that there wasn’t one, it was just an attitude, that we’d moved on to another space and had just come down to get some things. Many of our friends came into the adjacent camp while this was going on. One of them was hamming up and started entertaining people with a delightful Elvis Presley impression, where he had EP doing a strip tease while singing. My friend was uninhibited about what he showed and did. I thought, man, I wish I could be like him.

A later dream found me in a friend’s house. Calling it a house might be an understatement, but I was only ever in one room. What a room, though, spacious and light, with high ceilings, and walls that were windows that she raised, making them disappear. The whole thing was impressive but I found myself worrying about damaging things, which put the brakes on my entertainment.

Some sort of song and dance thing was going on nearby. A group of us, eight women and two men, decided to check it out. We walked down there and were watching from a distance. The show was still being organized and set up. One act called for audience participation. I was interested but then learned, you had to strip off all your clothes and join them nude.

That put a damper on it for me. The other male friend said that he was going to do it. I watched him as he went up while my friends talked about it. One of them encouraged me to go, but I said, “No thanks.” She pointed out that the other guy in our group had gone. I then saw him sneaking away, fully clothed, and said, “No, he chickened out.”

I then thought about it and said, “Screw it. Here I go.”

I stripped off my clothes, growing aware, of course, of others giving me space and watching. Naked, I walked up to the center ground — there wasn’t a stage — and presented myself. I was the only guy. The organizer was a male. He looked up and said, “Yes.” I answered, “I took off my clothes. I’m here to participate.”

He seemed a little taken back. as I looked around, I saw that others weren’t naked. The organizer said, “Here, put this on.” It was a long tee, which was what others wore. I put it on. It came down to my ass, leaving my pecker to swing in the wind.

The entertainment began. I didn’t grasp what we were doing and what my specific role was, but I winged it. I had fun, and a sense of freedom and exhilaration overtook me. I saw people watching me, especially women, and they seemed to be commenting on this middle-aged semi-naked men, but I thought, what the hell do I care? That’s their problem.

Dream end.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Here we are, at the top of June, 2022, and the winds are roaring in like it’s March. Yes, strong winds today, along with strong sunshine, after a day of rain and clouds yesterday. Sunshine blazed in at 5:43 AM, turning the lines of gray clouds into neon gold. It’s 60 F now and feels balmy. 73 F is possible before sunlight calls it a day at 8:43 F.

The dream parade continued last night and this morning. I came away from it with a Tom Petty song called “Room at the Top”. I hadn’t heard it in a long time and used Wikipedia to refresh myself on its details. After confirming it was released in 1999 and was off the album Echo, I read that Petty considered it depressing and intensely personal and refused playing it in concert once the Echo tour ended. Well, maybe that’s why I’d not heard it much. My neurons were just riffing off thinking about seeing things, per a dream, which is why they brought the song up into the morning mental music stream. I always like Petty’s declarative statements that he uses in songs. In this case, he sings, “I ain’t. Coming. Down.”

Stay positive, test negative, and so on, as needed. Here is the music. Hope you don’t find it depressing. I’m going to find coffee. Cheers

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The Silver Ford Dream

It was a parade of dreams last night, a dreamathon of impressive vitality and quantity. Two dreams stood out. Both involved a silver car. Silver as fine, polished flatware, with two black stripes down the middle, its front end, roof profile, and general shape and size were like the Ford GT Mark IV which was used to win LeMans with drivers like Dan Gurney and A.J. Foyt in the 1960s.

I first saw it in traffic. I don’t know who was traveling with me, but I was driving. Cars were nose to tail. Then came the silver Ford from the other direction. Mired in traffic as well, it cruised past, turning heads. While I’ve described it generally, it was then I spotted two unusual features: its rear wheels were completely enclosed, and it had a vertical fan mounted in its rear end. The fan was a large one, just as used in the Chapparal 2J a few years after the Mark IV, or in the Brabham BT46 Formula 1 car in 1978. (Both the Chapparal and Brabham were banned from racing after showing impressive potential.)

All of us are watching the silver Ford. I hear someone in another car behind me ask, “What is that?” Another person in a car behind me replies, “That’s a NASCAR stocker.”

I’m like, what? That ain’t no NASCAR stocker. I laughed at the suggestion.

We saw the car again later and someone repeated the NASCAR stocker identification. I said, “That’s not a NASCAR stocker. Anyone knowing anything about NASCAR would know that.”

“What is it then?” my companions asked me.

“I don’t know. It looks a lot like a Ford Mark IV, but I never heard of one modified on the back end like that.”

Later, we’re out of the cars, walking around. There is the silver Ford. As I walked over and ogled it, a young woman confirmed my name and then handed me the keys to the silver Ford.

I was perplexed. “Why?”

“You’ve been chosen.”

That answer did nothing to relieve confusion. “By who? And, yeah, why?” Then I tried giving the keys back. “Where would I drive a car like this?” I was shaking my head, but the woman walked away, leaving me with the car and keys.

Meanwhile, in another dream a while later…

My sister-in-law and her SO are with me and my wife walking along a parking lot. SIL sees the silver Ford and says, “Wow, what’s that?” Before I can reply, someone else says, “It’s a NASCAR stocker.”

As I prepare to explain, “No, it’s not a NASCAR stocker,” with the indignation deserved, my wife says, “That’s Michael’s car. It was a gift to him. Show them the keys.”

I held up the keys. “Yes, that’s my car.”

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The Secret Magazines Dream

I was in my mid-forties. My wife and I had decided to clean out and organize a home office space. It seemed to be a semi-detached garage. The cinder-brick walls were pale yellow, a broken concrete and dirt floor was underfoot, and there were several large windows.

We’d lived in this place for a while, but several new people had moved in, and we were becoming acquainted with other neighbors. The office had a very large bathroom, also painted yellow, with a single naked bulb hanging down in the middle. I was in there with six neighbors, all men, with the door shut, discussing people we knew in common. One very tall man — I came up to his chest — said, “Hey, do you know Hylton?” I gleefully replied, “I know Hylton, really tall guy, right?”

I asked everyone if they would leave the bathroom, questioning why we were all in there. After that, I returned to the office. The office had a pale-yellow desk and matching file cabinets and printer stand. They could have been painted from the same can of paint as the walls. I began emptying all the drawers. I was hurrying because I’d hidden Playboy Magazines from my wife in some of the drawers. I didn’t want her to find them. After emptying the drawers, I frantically raced around, trying to find a new place to hide them. What to do! What to do! I could hear her talking in the other room.

She came in. I shoved the magazines into a box and shoved it under the desk. She said, “Oh, you’ve already emptied all the drawers. Good. Let’s go through everything and decide what to keep and throw away.”

I said, “I already did that. We just need to put things away. I can do that by myself. You can go do other things.”

But she disagreed, insistently she was staying there.

A man arrived in the garage next to the office. White, in his mid-forties, he had curly coal-black hair with a matching thick beard and was wearing a blue ball cap and matching overalls. I know this because I could see him over like a sort of divider. I asked, “Who are you?”

My wife said, “This is so and so. I hired him to help us clean and organize.”

I replied, “I have this handled. We don’t need any help.”

But she ignored me, going into the garage area with the man to talk about what he could do to help.

Okay, she was out the room. I resumed my attempt to hide my magazines. There were only four, so I thought it shouldn’t be hard. Then I thought, I haven’t looked at these in years, why do I want to keep them? I also questioned, why should I have to hide them from her? But I knew the reason was that she hated Playboy because of how it sexualized and objectified women.

I quit trying to hide them. My wife entered, saw the magazines, and threw a fit. I told her I was throwing them away, but she ranted about me having them and hiding them. Shrugging that off, I went outside to check on the cats. I had two young ones and wanted to ensure they were okay. I heard a dog barking. Looking over a hedge down into the neighbor’s yard, I saw a large German Shepherd running around. Well, I needed to keep the cats in, then!

I decided to cross the street to get my mail. The street was just a narrow dirt lane but my mailbox was on the other side. A middle-aged white woman was coming down the street on a blue bicycle. I waited for her to go by, but she just drew up and stopped right before reaching me. I was incredulous; she was blocking traffic, but seemed totally indifferent. After a moment, she shifted her bike to go to the mailboxes, the same ones where I was going. A large gray truck was waiting for her to go by, and several other people were waiting, too. But she just did what she wanted, oblivious to what was going on around her. Indignant, I crossed the street to the mailbox. As I reached the other side, she pedaled away.

Dream end.

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A Traveling Dream

I was a young man, with my extended family. Cousins, including three deceased members, were there, along with aunts and uncles, and my parents (who, in RL, divorced when I was young).

We were ‘getting ready to go’. Where we were heading wasn’t properly defined. We’d had a reunion party the night before. The next day found the place trashed. Cans of beer and beer kegs were in the bathrooms. I was walking around, trying to make sense of things. We had two buildings divided by a parking lot where we were staying. Each of those buildings had a large game room with several bathrooms off of them. But beer was everywhere, mostly domestic brands like Schlitz, Miller’s, Stroh’s, and Buds, drinks from my childhood. I was laughing at that beer selection, questioning them, “Couldn’t we have done better?” They accused me of being a snob. We laughed about it all.

But the chaos annoyed me. We were due to leave soon. No one seemed ready, and they didn’t seem to care. Two vehicles were there for our travels. Both were sort of RVs. One was black and the other was red. Polished and shiny, they looked like wingless jets with wheels. People were filling them up with things they were taking. Checking it out, I proclaimed, “You’re trying to take too much. We’re not going to have any room for people.”

I went down into a game room to use the bathroom and encountered my father. He was in a jovial mood. I told him that I wanted to use a bathroom and was going to move the beer out of there so I could and asked if he would help. He just laughed and opened a beer. I said, “You’re having a beer now? But we’re getting ready to go.”

I became a little annoyed then and went back to the red and black RVs. An aunt came out, chastising everyone that we need to get a move on. I told her, “I know, I’ve been trying to get them organized.” Cousins started piling into the vehicles. I asked, “Who’s driving?” Aunt P answered, “You are.” I replied, “But I don’t even know where I’m going.”

She said, “Of course you do. You always know.”

Dream end.

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The New Old Car Dream

I acquired a ‘new’ old vintage car.

My wife was with me. The car was a Porsche 911, a very clean silver Carrera variant. People came by to admire it and ask questions. I explained that it was over forty years old but that I’d rebuilt it from the ground up. Several men came past and offered me large quantities of money for it. Although I was delighted, I replied, “This is for me.”

My wife and I entered the car and took several drives. I was always careful to keep the car clean and to polish it. Wherever I parked, people came by to ask about the car.

The dream ended as I realized that there were more ways to improve it, and I began pursuing those ideas.

End dream.

Some notes. One, the dream seemed longer but much of it addressed answering the same questions from people we met and taking long drives. The roads were always well paved, and the weather remained clear and friendly. Two, my wife saw a Porsche like this about three days ago as we left our car and crossed a shopping center parking lot. Three, Porsches fit prominently in my dreams. In one memorable dream from several years ago, I was driving a 911 through a snowstorm. Overall, it was a very uplifting and personal dream for me. In a way, I felt like it was my subconscious mind reassuring me about my life.

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The House Price Dream

A place was being sold, some sort of home. I’m not sure if it was a house, townhouse, condominium, etc. People were discussing how to price. Two young, grinning boys, brothers, were present, listening, watching me as this was being debated. I didn’t know anyone there or why I was present. Everyone wanted to put the place on the market at a low-ball price because it had been the scene of horrific crimes which the boys did.

I advocated, “No, don’t make it a low price, make it a high price. There’s been a lot of notoriety about what the boys did. It’s well-publicized. Don’t try to hide it. Take advantage of it being a famous place to push the price up.”

More debate followed. I claimed, “People who are aware of the crime who are turned off by it aren’t going to come anyway. So the low price doesn’t affect them. People interested in the crime will come, and if they’re real interested, they’re going to try to buy. Don’t make it easy on them. This is a jewel; you don’t low ball a jewel.”

They decided that made sense. I had nothing to do with the house, other than knowing its history and arguing for a high price. As we finished up and I left the place, my sister-in-law arrived. She said she was going to bid on the place. That surprised me. I asked, “Really?”

She answered. “Sure. Seems like it’d be fun.”

Dream end.

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