Category: Dreams

The Beard Dream

The weirdest damn dream. Well, dreams tend to be. At least in my world.

I was looking into a mirror. There was my gorgeous younger self (hah!) looking back. Mustache and goatee in place. Dark brown, almost black, because I was young.

My beard grew. Came in nicely along my jaw line. I admired it in the mirror. I liked that mirror. Then it crept up my cheeks and down my neck, growing fuller but remaining dark. Still liked it. But was chuckling. I could never grew a beard that full. Always rued that shortcoming.

The beard’s downward creep stopped at the bottom of my neck. Its upward growth continued. My mouth was bearded over. Then my nostrils. It covered my cheeks up to my eyes.

I was laughing. Looks like I need to trim my beard around my nose and mouth, I told myself. No one could see either of them.

Dream end.

As a bonus, another short dream followed. Short as a webisode of a net series, if you catch my meaning.

I was in a fighting style clothing such as what the Saxons wore around 1,000 A.D. (or common era), if my television history is correct. Standing out there by myself, with water, like canals, on either side, others approached me. Asked if I would take over. Don’t know what it was I was taking over. I guess I knew in my dream.

Anyway, I declined. They walked away. I basically stayed where I was. Twice more, they approached and I declined. The fourth time, I accepted. I said, okay, I’ll do it. I’ll lead.

Dream end.

1

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Today is August of 2021’s final day, the 31st, a Tuesday. Tuesday’s child – what are they, full of grace? Or maybe they’re lost, out in space.

Sun popped in on us at 6:34 AM. Expect it to hang around and bring moderate warmth — in the eighties — until about 7:47 PM.

A strong and sustained wind blew in from the west yesterday. Cleared the air. Improved our air quality all the way from an extremely unhealthy rating to a moderate. Woo hoo. This was an hour before sunset. Dinner had been et. So we went for a walk. My wife only wanted to go so far due to her RA foot issues but I pressed on. Ended up walking two and a half miles. Coming back, walking toward the east, a huge smoke bank was visible. Gray and blue highlighted with air. My guess is this was the smoke being blown out of our valley. Horrifying, fascinating sight. If the wind shifted to the other direction, that would all pour back in on us. Also, while we were free, how people in that area must be suffering. Wasn’t far: just the end of town. Less than a mile straight down 99. Also, what of all the places in California, Oregon, et al, still on fire. Places where homes, businesses, and forests were still burning down. Also, places where the animals fled, where people evacuated. Couldn’t help but contemplate how miserable, worried, and anxious all of them must be.

I had several crazy dreams last night. Reflecting upon them as breakfast was made and consume and coffee brewed, I thought of crazy songs. Like “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley and friends. Patsy Cline. Ozzy with “Crazy Train”. “Let’s Go Crazy” — Prince. “Crazy in Love”. FYC with “She Drives Me Crazy”. But out of the shuffling came Aerosmith with “Crazy”. Crazy, isn’t it? I thought I’d go with it. Just felt right.

Stay positive, test negative, wear the mask as needed, and get the vax. Here’s the music and my coffee. Cheers

0

A Nail in the Head – A Dream

I was at some corporate headquarters. A takeover had just been completed. Two others — women — and I were there to go through boxes of stuff. We were part of the company which had just been taken over. But the boxes were from our old company as well as other companies our new corporate masters had previously taken over.

Our boxes were the usual eclectic mix from a software company that had hundreds of computers and monitors for testing. Cables, keyboards, hard drives, zip drives, cassettes, collateral electronic equipment, and tools — small screwdrivers and pliers for working on computers. We were working in a large, open and carpeted space at the junction of elevators and hallways. People went by as we worked, sometimes stopping to make comments. A fun atmosphere prevailed, one of both nostalgia and exploration.

Others began bringing us other boxes. These were from the companies taken over before. Go through those, we were told. See if there’s anything useful. Take what you want.

Bizarrely, first there were cosmetics and personal hygiene kits. One for women, another for men. They were quite fancy. Apparently, we guessed, those were used as a marketing gimmick, given out at trade shows. Using one of those, I washed my face and hair. Then I moisturized. I walked about, looking for a mirror to see myself. Others brought more boxes from my old company. What’s this stuff? I looked through it. Computer games. Purchased software. Why’d they have thought, they wanted to know. Well, some of it was because they needed the programs to do the work. Other stuff was market research, or about packaging and instructions.

I found a hammer and nail. On a whim, I decided to drive the nail into my skull, on the left front temple, right below the hairline. After a little testing, I decided the hammer wasn’t required. The nail was a ten penny steel nail. Pressing its tip into my skin, I wiggled it until it started going in. Then I pressed it firmly down until only the head and about an eighth of an inch of nail showed. I’d left that amount so that I could get it back out more easily. There wasn’t any pain or blood. A little clear fluid trickled out. Brain fluid, I guessed. I was pretty pleased with what I’d done even as I knew it was a little stupid.

More boxes were brought, providence unknown. Others saw the nail in my head. Why did I do that? To see if I could. Doesn’t it hurt? No. I’m sure it’s doing brain damage, I told others. I thought I should remove it but first, I started going through the newest boxes.

Inside these were men’s clothing. It was expensive stuff. Unused. I wondered where it came from. I asked people who went by if they knew. No one did until a woman going by said, that used to belong to the CEO. He was always buying new clothes. Because he liked clothes so much, people were also always giving him clothes.

I tried a shirt on. It was something beachy. It fit and I liked the style. Keep it, people told me. Take whatever you want. Okay.

I still had the nail in my head. I decided it was time to take it out. Finding a mirror, I seized it between my fingernail and gently pulled it free. It didn’t bleed but a little clear fluid trickled out. More brain fluid, I guessed again.

I wanted to put something on the spot where I’d pulled out the nail and began looking for medical supplies, going through the boxes. There were now so many, we had piles of them all over the place. More clothing and electronic gear was discovered. Games. Other software. Others kept interrupting with questions. People wanted to take some stuff. Go ahead, I said.

I finally found a medicine kit. It was huge. Very fancy. All I needed was a small bandage. I found gauze pads and tape. I was just trying to decide what to do when the dream ended.

0

Monday’s Theme Music

The changing season was seen in today’s sunrise at 6:34 AM. The light angled in a different angle. Struck another part of the wall. Was strong and fresh — we’re relatively smoke-free this morning, again, knock on wood — and warm but not hot. A low moved in overnight, dropping temperatures. Today’s high will be in the seventies before the sun bows out at 7:48 PM. Last night’s low was in the upper fifties. The cooler, fresher air is as welcomed as returning heroes.

Today is Monday, August 30, 2021. A dream about a musician friend is on my mind. He played with Janis so a Janis song is in order. He didn’t play on this song, though. Today’s choice is “Mercedes Benz” from 1970, the last song she recorded.

Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

0

The Musician Dream

This dream was all about a friend’s appearance. He’s a professional musician. Been doing it since the late 1960s. He’s on dozens of albums, released some of his own, played with rockers all over the world, and scored movies.

My wife and I were outside. Not our ‘real-life’ home but it was our home. Lot of green grass, bushes, and trees. I looked across the way. Saw D, my friend, the musician. He was in gray shorts and a maroon tee, playing basketball on outdoor court. Dribbling, hook and jump shots, three-pointers, passing, doing it all in an impressive way. Never missed a shot. Never blocked. And no one scored on him.

My wife and I reacted, “Wow, look at him. Who knew?” Amazing to see him out there, lean pale body flashing, shock of silvery white house fluttering with action, that ready grin on his face.

She and I went back into our house. Had to prepare to go somewhere. Glancing out the window, I thought I saw someone working on the neighbor’s lawn. I thought it was D. Made no sense. He’s a musician, not a landscaper.

We went back outside, leaving the house, going for the car. I told her, “Wait.” I checked the neighbor’s yard. Yes, lawn work was being done. Bushes and trees trimmed. Grass cut. Driveway and walk edged. A vehicle with a trailer of equipment was parked at the curb. There was D.

I called his name. He turned. Waved. “You’re doing yard work?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I need the money.”

I went on and told my wife what I saw and our conversation.

Dream end.

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Sunday arrived like a Monday morning, on time and as expected. Cool and smoky.

Today is August 29, 2021. This is it. If you vowed to do things during August — clean cupboards, fly to the moon, bake a cake for a friend, write a novel — you better find the go button.

Sunrise settled its glowing blanket over our dried out brown and green valley at 6:33 AM. Sunset will be 7:49 PM. Our high temperature will be in the mid nineties.

We have a few warnings for you today for Jackson County, Oregon, including Ashland. Excessive heat warning, so don’t go outside. COVID-19 is still raging out here, climbing to levels that bring the national news services to the area to write stories about how bad it is in hospitals, so don’t go anywhere without your mask. Also, the air is rated unhealthy to extremely unhealthy so don’t go outside unless you must. Masking is suggested. Also, don’t exert yourself too much while you’re out there. A red flag warning has been issued for fires, so you know, be careful and don’t use power tools outside. Finally, there’s a drought still underway, so don’t waste water. Other than these stipulations and limitations, feel free to go nuts.

My mind started the morning with pieces of dreams. Most of them evaporated, leaving me to look at fragments and wonder what was going on there, sort of like we do when ancient ruins or old family photographs are found. Then, I thought about “Friends”. Have you heard about this? It was a television show about a gang of people – a brother and sister, and, well, their friends and room mates, and work and relationship entanglements presented in a humorous way. I believe it’s called a ‘sitcom’. On NBC in the states for a while. It’s also been on reruns sometimes after it went out of production. Anyway, I was thinking about the friends’ parents. Liked how the parents were written into their lives and relationships, and the actors who played the parents, but I was thinking mostly about Chandler’s father, played by Kathleen Turner.

Whew. Got that out of my system. I then checked out the landscape, thought about the situation, and concluded, Jesus, get me out of here. That prompted the Gospel song turned rock hit, “Jesus Is Just Alright” to kick off in the morning’s mental music stream. After re-acquainting myself with the DC Talk version and the Byrd’s version, I went back to the Doobie Brothers and pulled a recording of a live version off the net. The song doesn’t have many words. You can learn them quickly, I think. So feel free to sing along.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as necessary, get the vax, and be careful out there. Here’s the music. You listen while I go get my starter fluid, aka, coffee. Also need to turn on the air purifier because it smells like smoke in here. Cheers

0

A Racing Dream

A group of us — all men of various ages, builds, condition, etc. — were gathered. A tense but excited current ran through us. We were being given an opportunity to race a Formula 1 car. These were not the current cars but vintage vehicles from the eighties. All of us could attempt to qualify but only twenty-three could race. My father was encouraging me to participate. I asked if he was, too, and he said, “No. Too old,” with a laugh.

I was in my early twenties and eager for the opportunity. An overcast sky murmured, it might rain, and a cool breeze kept us shivering. The track could barely be described as one. A run-down, overgrown place, we would-be racers walked about, attempting to clean off the track a bit, kicking off gravel, twigs, and leaves, removing old, rain-sodden black branches. Several drivers seemed much larger than me. Most were older. We chatted in knots as we impatiently awaited our chance. I was more knowledgeable about F1 than others there so I asked more questions and pondered things. One older, larger care took note and started asking me for advice to help him. Each time he asked a question, I asked, making a suggestion. When he thought the suggestion didn’t help, he wanted to take it out on me. I told him, “Look, I made the suggestions but you made the decisions. Own your decisions.” That seemed to take him back.

Meanwhile, I was becoming annoyed with the organizers. I understood that we were to be given cars randomly. Okay. Then we would practice, qualify, and if we were fast enough, we’d race. Okay. But the organizers were also issuing us old racing coveralls to wear, and helmets. Shouldn’t we have a chance to pick those out ahead of time and get used to them some? Why not? In my mind, the uniforms could be important because they could be too tight and hamper our movement, you know, like shifting gears and turning the steering wheel.

I was mentioning these things to other participants. None of them could answer it, of course, so I went in search of the organizers. The dream ended.

0

A Dream of Secrets

Began with my wife and I establishing a home in a new location. Part of a community, seemed to be part of an apartment complex or condo. Outside, but up in the condo (that’s what I’ll go with) (and yes, it was both things – I was inside and outside at once), I set up reaffirming our place’s boundaries. This involved setting up green wooden railings on decks. Just trying to ensure that we were living up to our agreement. There were also storage units. Did we want those? someone asked my wife, who asked me. Yes, we did, I answered. She relayed that back.

Then we were inside. She was going off on some activity. I was working. A journalist. For some reason, it was important to keep my identity and work secret, along with my marriage. My wife and I were living together as husband and wife, but it was important others didn’t know that. Don’t know why. Other women approached, observing me. Wanted to know who I am. What I was doing. I kept responses to a minimum. They peeked into my home, attempting to see more. Fortunately, they didn’t see my wife’s clothing and items. She was worried about that, but we were safe. She kept coming and going.

Meanwhile, I’m writing. Outside the place, I see others reading my previous material. I’m afraid they’ll realize it’s me. Can’t have that. One person, a male, worries me most. Younger, he seems overly interested in me. I attempt to avoid him.

People are discussing my work. They don’t know it’s my work. Then they want to know what I’m doing. What am I working on? Can’t avoid them seeing that I’m writing, so I tell them that I am writing and revising. I downplay what it is. They’re insistent and prying. I finally tell them, I’m writing and revising. This is who I am.

Dream ends.

0

An Army Green Giant Dream

Dreamed I was on an installation that almost felt like an army place. No weapons or anything. But institutionalized structures. Parade grounds.

Me and others. All male. All green. In green uniforms. Like toy army soldiers. I was a small boy. Chubby-cheeked. But green. I learned panic was roiling the place. A large statue had taken up life and grown taller. Men, including my father, were discussing this. “What do you think he wants?”

“Who knows?”

“He might be angry.”

“I’m sure he’s angry.”

“Of course he’s angry.”

“We have to find out what he wants.”

“I’m sure he’ll let us now.”

“He’s huge.”

“Huge doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Somehow, thinking of the green giant statue — for that’s what it was, one of us, made into a statue at some time, now come to life but much larger — I was doing math and trying to tell them, it’s easy to know how big he is. It’s multiples of seven. He was a three-quarter replica. The original was twenty-eight feet. So the statue was twenty-one feet. Now he’d grown to three times that size when he came to life. I knew that, I thought, because it was he was three/fourths of what of the original. So he was now three times taller. Dream logic, right?

I was trying to tell them, the statue was sixty-three feet tall. That he was hollow. I knew because the statue was hollow. All were hollow metal. Anything else would have been prohibitive. The statue had been made, piece by piece welded onto a frame and then shaped. Bronze, I thought, stained green. Green bronze.

They were not listening to me. Other boys and I commiserated. Fathers. Never listening. Never hearing.

The giant green statue strode into view. Towered over us. Threatening with a scowl. Contemptuous. I kept saying, “Just ask him what he wants.”

Dream end.

2

The Muse Calls – A Dream

I was in an office and answered the phone after it rang. Standard gray office set found in the U.S. around the century’s start. The female on the other end said, “Hello. This is your muse.”

I sat up and paid attention. Dream or not, your muse calls, you pay attention.

The office was busy. Noisy with ringing phones and conversations. Focus was required. I had several items in front of me. Truth is, I was expecting my muse’s call. I was ready. Also, weirdly, but this is dreamland, I could see her on the phone talking to me but also saw myself talking to her. Like two cameras were in use. I was in my mid-forties. She seemed of a like age. White. Short. Short dark hair. Glasses. In a dark gray business suit with a white blouse.

She told me that she had two assignments for me. I had prepped for them. These were the items before me. On the right was a board. Divided in the middle, it had pegs to move around. Left was something else. She told me what she expected me to do with them. I thanked her for the help. Then she said, “Now tell me what you want me to do.” I told her to her satisfaction. We said good-byes and hung up. I got started.

Can you believe it? I can’t remember any of those things she said.

1

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑