Category: Dreams

The Dark Dream

Dreamed I was walking home alone, in my present neighborhood. Premature darkness dropped as the wind hissed and moaned, thrashing tree branches. I thought it might rain. Turning up the street, I came to my house. One of those POD storage units was by the tall wooden fence in the side yard, smothered in shadows. I did a doubletake when I saw it, then remembered, oh, yes, I’m getting rid of all those things.

I was inside the house. It was dark, without electricity. We were mixing fruit juices. I was contemplating lemon, lime, orange, with cherry and grape. I said, “Those flavors won’t mix.” I knew someone else was there, but I couldn’t see nor hear them. I collected more flavors but didn’t mix them. Then I said, “I must mix them, and then drink them. If I don’t, I’ll never escape.”

But I worried. If I escaped the house, I still needed to face the vampires outside. Surely drinking the mixed juices and escaping had to be the first priority, though.

One candle lit the space. I was in the dining room. A man came to me with a large, flat red box. He wore a black coat with a white shirt. His face was unseen. He presented the red box to me. I didn’t want to take it. “How much?” I finally asked.

Seven hundred, I knew he said without hearing him speak.

I repeated, “Seven hundred?” I shook my head. “That’s not enough. A thousand.”

A thousand was agreed.

I walked outside. Rain was falling but I was protected. I walked down the sidewalk and stopped. Lightning lit the night. The bolts held, frozen in place in the sky. The rain hung, unfalling, lit by the lightning. I could see miles and miles ahead across the dark landscape.

Dream end

5

The Book Sales Dream

I was a young man, collecting and selling information on other people and on events. It started with two young women bemoaning the inability to learn something. I told them that I could do it. Then I did.

When I went around collecting information, it ended up taking the form of a thick hardback book. I showed them the book and then told them I’d sell it to the highest bidder. They were taken back — they’re the ones who suggested the information was needed, according to them — and thought I should just give them the book. I disagreed and said that wasn’t going to happen.

Rain started falling. I decided I needed a safe hideout. I found one side of a wooden crate leaning against a hillside. Pulling it aside, I saw a hole. I crawled through and found myself in a small living space. It was where I’d been living, I realized.

It stopped raining, so I left, taking my book with me. I went around, showing others and generating interest in it. People began offering me money. I wasn’t ready to sell.

My father appeared on the scene, telling me that I had to go to court. I wasn’t bothered by that, I would go to court and win. Dad was walking through a creek at that point. The water was low, just covering his feet, but muddy. The original two women were with him. I was back in a military uniform, following Dad. Note that in RL, he’d had a twenty-year career in the military, then I’d done the same.

I realized that I didn’t have a military hat, that I was outside and ‘uncovered’. That’s against reg and disturbed me. I asked Dad if he had a cap I could wear. He didn’t hear me, and I repeated the question several times before he said, “No,” and then told me that I didn’t need one.

Rain began falling anew. The two women started looking for cover and saw the opening to my place because I’d left my protective cover off. I didn’t want them to go in there. They were going enter but decided that it was too small. I then changed my mind and invite them in. I went in first, and then invited them in and showed them how large my space was. They agreed and then made me an offer on the book of data. It was a very large offer and made me grin in delight.

Dream end

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Power of Eight Dream

I went through a period a few years ago where eight figured prominently in my dreams. Last night, it made a return in another superpower dream.

We were youngish people, nobody I recognized from RL. Eight of us, we seemed to be on the run at the beginning, fearful of being caught, though I don’t know who was chasing us or why. I’d just made a decision to leave them and was walking out when a young woman confronted me. I realized she was one of those chasing me. She told me that I wasn’t leaving, to go back into where I’d been, with the others, and threatened me with harm if I didn’t.

I refused, then tried advancing with intention of going around her and escaping. She raised her hands, spread her fingers and fired her magic crystals at me.

I blanched. I knew the crystals incapacitated people. They struck me.

And bounced off with no effect.

I was astonished. She was flabbergasted. She unleashed more of them. They did nothing as I walked toward her. “My powers don’t affect him,” she said with a shocked voice.

An older man stepped up from behind her. “I’ll stop him.”

He released a repelling wave at me that was supposed to shove me backwards. It had no effect. Raising my hands, I repelled him with his power, then did the same with her. Realizing they were defeated, they took off.

I hired back to the other seven, told them quicky what happened, and then urged them to see if they had powers. They did. I found that I had more powers than I realized. I had eight, in fact, including levitating.

We huddled up. I told them that we need to defend our country and that we should fly out to do it. We eight swore a vow that we would never give up nor surrender. Then we headed to the airport to get on a flight.

All flights were booked but we separating, we managed to slip onboard an aircraft. Five of the others were caught and escorted off, leaving just three of us. All the airline seats were bright red. The aircraft was amazingly wide, more like a large waiting area. I found a row of seats that ran parallel to the aisle. The third seat was empty so I jumped into it. One of my companions was in a row behind me. The attendants realized that he didn’t belong there and escorted him out.

A young male flight attendant approached me and asked if I’d like the meal that I’d ordered to be served now. I agreed to that. He brought me the meal on a tray but then withheld it, announcing, “I think I need to confirm who is supposed to get this meal.” I protested that it was mine, that I’d ordered it, but he went off and came back with the news that it belonged to someone else, and that it was included in their ticket, which cost $28,000. He then asked me for my ticket. I told him I didn’t have one but that I was on an important mission.

He told me that I had to leave the flight. I refused. He drew out a taser and said that if I didn’t leave, he would taser me. I told him, go ahead, it won’t hurt me.

Everyone around me was ordered back. He fired the taser. The barbed darts struck me and stayed in but I felt nothing. The FA was astonished. “It must not be working,” he said. I suggested that I fire it on him to see if it worked. Declining, he acquired another taser and shot me. Again, there was no effect. He said that it didn’t make sense that two would fail, and then asked me if I’d felt anything at all. I told him that I’d felt a little warm, that I had special powers, and that I was going to the other side of the world to defend my country. I levitated myself and then him to demonstrate some of my powers.

The attendant said that the other person didn’t want the meal because I had ordered it, and it was already made, so he would give it to me, if I still wanted it. I did, and he brought it to me on a dark red tray.

Dream end.

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A Not-quite Military Dream

Ah, young again. I was with my wife in a luxurious apartment complex. The entire floor was shared with her co-workers from the advertising agency employing her. They were all excited, plans afoot! Preparations were being made for awards ceremonies and celebrations. They wanted me to be a part of that. Keeping to my normal personality, I remained on the edge.

In comes a guy in military uniform. He’s older than me, bald, dark red mustache, with specs on. He identifies me, verifies who I am, and gives me a sheet of paper. It’s ‘welcome information’ explaining where my new quarters are, where I go for various items, operating hours, etc., because I’m a senior NCO in the USAF. Just as in RL.

He explains that I have a roommate, contrary to policy, because the guy is trouble. They’re trying to remove him but he’s elusive. I thank him for the information and he leaves. Celebration preparation continues among my wife’s group. I begin changing clothes to leave. First, which uniform should I wear? I prefer the battle dress but, wait, I only have white crew neck tee shirts, so that’s out. I’ll wear the casual blue office attire instead.

I strip down and shower. Then I discover, damn, I left my undies in the other room. Further, people are coming in here, where I’m naked. I whip a towel around me. They don’t seem to notice me at all. I slip out to another room and find undies. I put them on but these undies are uncomfortable. I think they may be somebody else’s underwear.

As I decide to change, the door opens and people flow in, chattering away. I hold the towel up and do a fast-change under it, then drop the towel. I’m in my undies and a tee shirt but put on my uniform shirt and pants.

Red stache returns. He tells me that the guy, an E5, won’t leave my quarters, but that I need to deal with him. No problem, I’ll do that. I just need to put on my boots. I consider my jump boots but then put on my dress shoes, polishing them up to an amazing shine. In full uniform now, I prepare to leave.

People stop, look at me and ask, why are you in that uniform. I explain, because I’m in the military and that I need to leave to take care of business. I plan on coming back. All are amazed by my shoes’ luster. I shrug; just mil standards.

I go to my new place. Other military personnel see me coming and step out of my way, except one tall, large guy. He tries to tell me that I don’t have the right to be there. I warn him that he’d better watch what he says next because I’m in a mood. Apologizing the other gets out of my way. I continue to my quarters. The guy I’m to evict is there. A tall, young, white guy in white underwear, he’s a babbling wreck. I figure out, he has problems and tell him, you can’t stay here, but you’re coming with me, I’m getting you help. First, you need to dress.

Dream end. Hah – was this one fraught with psychological flotsam, or what?

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Quasi-Military Dream

I dreamed that I was in a class, being taught quality management and statistical process control. I’m familiar with these things as I was taught them in the military as part of my career’s final leg, becoming the Quality Air Force Advisor to my unit commander, while I was teaching others, and helping units and groups with QAF initiatives. Although QAF is considered a failure because it became abused and misunderstood, my base achieved impressive success with instituting changes. Or maybe I just want to remember it through rosy glasses. Either way, I received multiple accolades and wide recognition for that stuff.

Taking the course in the dream, I became amused, because I was intimate with the subject. I was the age that I really was when I did those things, a quarter century past. The instructor said that since I seemed to know the material, why don’t I do a presentation in the next class? So I prepared for it, developing slides. As I did, my dream self remembered the real details, a fascinating process to watch. I told the other students that this is about PDCA – Plan, Do, Check, Adjust, and showed them the cycles, and how people can naturally fit them into their lives and their organizations, and how creating organization and a personal vision can work with PDCA to improve your situation. As with everything, mindfulness, balance, and discipline are needed.

It all went well. I think the dream was a subconscious exertion of conscious wishes to be part of a better time for me personally, when I was surer of the world, who I was, and where I was going.

2

Tuesday’s Theme Music

A stratus layer mothers the sun, protecting it from our prying eyes. Theoretically, we had sunrise at 7:11 this morning, but few bright rays have slipped past the cloud shield. The temperature is hovering at 46 degrees F as a fine mist drifts and falls, but today’s high is forecast to be 77 F before sunset at 7:25 PM.

Today is Tuesday, March 22, 2022, or 03222022 in the American style.

I was up with cats last night. Another — a different — sick one, as Tucker puked and went lethargic. My wife is sleeping in another bed adjusted for her back issues. Tucker, who sleeps with me 99 percent of the nights, slept with her. I missed my furry boy and his taps on my hands and nose, and deep, throbbing purr. I asked her this morning, how he was. “Oh, he’s fine,” she said. Oh, he ate? “I don’t know.” Did he drink water? “I don’t know.” Did he use the litter box? “I don’t know.” How do you know he’s okay? “He seems okay.” That is not how it works.

Meanwhile, sick cat took Tucker’s absence as an opportunity to cuddle against me. I pet, scratched, and spoke for him for long hours in the night. His ability to eat is diminishing and he’s fading, despite hopes. Of course, I used the time to write in my head. It wasn’t the plan; the writer is always there, and the muses said, “Hey, while you’re not busy doing anything.” They’re very single-minded. My mind shouted, “Eureka,” as some new and surprising vector took shape. Of course, it must be pursued today.

A 1986 Moody Blues song, “Your Wildest Dreams”, settled into the morning mental music stream. The neurons latched onto after a few dreams. Now it’s on loop and must be released into the net so the neurons can go on to other music.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the shots when you can. The neurons are calling for coffee, threatening me with a medley of 1910 Fruitgum Company melodies if I don’t comply. So off I go. Cheers

2

The All-Male Dream

To begin, we were in a huge, pale gray auditorium. A long and low empty stage, softly lit with white light, is across the front. The seating is set up in blocks that are thirty wide and twenty deep. The blocks were three wide across the auditorium but I don’t know how many blocks it went back. Every seat was being filled. Filling it were men of all races, but of about the same age range, in our mid-thirties. All are dressed neat, in business casual. I wore black jeans and a long sleeve maroon dress shirt. We were excited and happy because we’d finished a course and were graduating. Seating myself in the third from last row in the middle front block, ten seats in from the left, I was impressed by the event’s sheer magnitude.

We’d seated ourselves, quieted, and were waiting for the speaker to arrive and begin when an argument emerges between two men. They’re out in one of the broad aisles between the blocks. I know both of them in the dream, though they weren’t familiar from RL. As the argument rose, it appeared it was going to escalate into a fight. I went out there and separated them, talking them down from fighting and arguing, encouraging them to return to their seats.

I returned to my seat and sat. The speaker, a man in a suit, came on stage and began talking. He surprised me by mentioning my name and citing me for my leadership. I was hugely surprised, flattered, and embarrassed — I always prefer to avoid attention.

Then, in a dreamshift, the ceremony is over. I get into a car with my father. The car is a gold sixties muscle car with a black vinyl top, chrome wheels, and chrome straight pipes. I don’t know the make or model but it was a two door. It remined me of a GM product, maybe a Chevelle.

Dad is driving. We’re going to another event. We’re on a divided highway, four lanes in either direction. Dad is driving fast, which doesn’t bother me — he and I always drive fast. The highway twists and turns, rising and falling as it follows the land, but we’re driving through a city.

We come up on another car in the left land. The car looks almost identical to the one we’re in. As I’m commenting on that, Dad pulls up close on the other car. The driver applies his brakes. That infuriates Dad. The other driver is pissed but moves right to let us pass. I note to Dad that the guy — a younger driver, who has rolled his window down and is shaking his fist — is angry. Dad says it’s because we’re faster.

As we go to pass this guy, we find our way blocked by a stopped brown UPS truck. As Dad goes to drive around it, we see head on traffic coming. We’re astonished; why is there traffic coming from the other direction? Then, I look and see that we’re on the wrong side of the highway. But how did that happen? It’s not possible because there is a cement barrier dividing the two directions.

A pause in traffic goes. We go around the stopped truck. Looking back, I see other cars following us.

A dreamshift brings me into a large courtroom. I’ve been empaneled as part of a jury. There are only men present. I’ve been accepted as a juror after passing an oral examination. Others are being questioned. It’s a festive atmosphere. I realize that I’m there to judge entries and award prizes.

Dream end.

4

The Bread Dream

I was having dinner at my in-laws’ house. The small dining room was crowded with several tables, Maple wood, Americana design. The tables are full of food. It’s like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, al set up at once. The tables and chairs are crowded together, making walking around difficult. Careful paths must be followed.

I was making a plate up for my mother-in-law. In RL, she died several years ago. I’d filled half of a flowery China plate with food for her. I was walking around with the plate in my hand, looking for mashed potatoes. While looking for them, I kept finding huge stashes of bread. It was all variations available – rye loaves, sourdough, sliced, rolls, hamburger and hot dog buns, some small, fancy loaves, seeded loaves, long baguettes. Wholly unlike my RL in-laws who ate white hamburger and hot dog buns and Roman Meal bread. I never saw a baguette in their house in forty-five years of knowing them. The bread is everywhere, on the tables, under the tables, on the chairs, on the floor, in the corners. Some of it is bagged and some of it is loose.

She was on the other side of the room with her back to me. I said to her, “Wow, you sure do have a lot of bread. Why do you have so much bread?” An answer wasn’t given; I kept looking for the mashed potatoes.

Dream shift. It’s now night. My wife and I are in a car. We’re waiting to pick up something from my FIL. In RL, he passed away at the end of 1991. I’m waiting to back into a spot on the street. The street is wet. Before I can park where I want, I need to wait for a truck to pull out and leave, otherwise, I’ll block him in. I’m watching the truck in my mirror, muttering, “Come on, come on, what is taking so long?”

The truck finally pulls away. I back into the desired spot, and parallel park with amazing perfection. My FIL comes out. I open the trunk. I turn to see what he’s loading. I’m incredulous as I realize he’s putting bread in the trunk. I tell him, “Why do you need so much bread? You have a ton of the stuff at home.”

He closes the trunk and tells me to pull back to another location. I do that, and then get out to see how I’m parked. The dark car is perfectly parked again. My FIL comes out with his arms full and tells me to open the back door. I do; he puts more bread in it. I ask again, “Why do you want so much bread?”

Dream ends.

2

The Mustang Dream

Dreamed my wife bought me a Mustang convertible as a surprise. Let’s get into it.

To start, it was night. I left the house and drove around with a friend in his Mustang. He had some special edition, white with fat blue stripes. As he drove, I realized we were in my current town, Ashland. Stopping in the street parallel to some apartments, he powered his window down. I was asking, “What are you doing?” Grinning, he responded, “Wait.”

What he was doing was using a remote control to open and close his trunk. He’d stopped parallel to another Mustang, which was doing the same thing. Behind my buddy’s car was another Mustang, white with blue stripes, doing the same thing. “It’s how we greet each other,” my friend said. I said, “I didn’t know there were so many Mustangs in this town.”

He dropped me off at my house, which wasn’t my RL place. It was now day. A light blue Mustang convertible with its top down was sitting in the driveway. The interior was dark blue. The car wasn’t new, but gently used. I went into the house to see who owned the car and my wife announced, “Surprise! I bought that for you.”

I had to leave to pick up friends, so I took the Mustang. I picked up friends from a military unit I served in, and we drove around. We weren’t in my town any longer, but a large city’s business district. I checked things on the Mustang and commented on it. I wondered about its price, too. I also kept going the wrong way down one-way streets. I’d catch myself almost immediately and then turn around, but it was embarrassing.

I dropped off friends and returned home. A woman was there. She said she was the car sales rep and wanted to know how I liked the car. As we talked, my wife joined me and the three of us walked over to the car dealership. I was ambivalent about keeping it — I didn’t know the mileage, the year, or the cost — and told all that. The dealership was closing. We all rushed to get out the doors before it did because we were worried that we’d be forced to stay overnight in the dealership. The rolldown doors were closed, but two workers raised them and slipped out, closing them behind them. I then did the same, holding the doors up for me and my wife to leave.

The dream ended.

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