A Religion Dream
I began with a gaggle of other people, twenty to thirty, I’d guess, all strangers. We were sitting in rows of picnic tables. All faced the same direction, we only sat on one side. Gray blankets covered the tables.
I learned that a religious ceremony was about to take place. What religion, I was asking aloud. Someone was telling me but I wasn’t comprehending. Three people in gray arrived at the front to speak. I attended them, waiting for them to open their mouths. They pulled gray blankets over their head. With surprise, I gave a glance around and discovered that everyone except me and my seatmate had their heads under a gray blanket. Well, shit, I thought with embarrassment, hurry, pull the blanket over your head before it’s noticed. I did, then waited, blanket over the head. Complete silence outside. Venturing a peek, I found that everyone else had uncovered their heads and were leaving.
That was a religious ceremony? I understood zero of what it was about. But that part ended. Now, I was working. I was given an old wooden desk. The front was closed. When it was pulled open, it would come down to provide a working surface. But I was working on the slanted front. It was quickly apparent that was completely ineffective. After asking, “Why can’t I open the desk,” and not receiving any answers, I opened it.
Stuff was inside. I began unpacking it, trying to learn what these things were. They seemed familiar but glazed with mystery. As I delved into them, I ended up taking that desk section apart. Now it needed to be put back together. I was working on that when gossip and warnings rippling to us warned that the religious people were arriving to conduct inspection. A friend nearby told me that we need to go and warn our other friend so she could hide her contraband.
We covertly hastened to her small place, ground level flat not far away. Stealing inside, we discovered that she wasn’t there. Her back door was cracked open. Hearing her voice, we peeked out. She was there, coming, but engaged with others. I looked out the front window. The inspectors were almost at her place. We fretted over what was going to happen.
Finally, our friend entered her place through the back door. We warned her, “The inspectors are coming.” She calmly replied that she already knew and that she had already prepared for them and didn’t expect any problems. Turning to another person who entered, they began talking about another man. “He looks hideous,” she said, “just like Michael.”
“Me? I look hideous?” I asked. I was appalled; do people think I like hideous.
“Not you,” my friend replied, “my Michael.”
Dream end.
Putting Things Together Dream
It was a mashup of color and sound to start. Confusion. Something going on but nada coherent. Sediment settled, becoming me. Somewhere. Outside? Hard to be certain, the dream camera was tight on me. Working on a project. First watching others. What was going on? They were taking bits…was that film? Putting film snippets together. Setting them in order. And what’s the point?
Ah, points are awarded for doing this right. Seems easy enough. Picking up film snippets, I began piecing them together. As it progressed, I discovered that holding on allowed that snippet to immerse you. Life scenes. Movie scenes. Which were they? I wasn’t certain.
Many people put the clips together with gaps between them. Why have gaps? I decided not to settle on gaps. I’d create smooth transitions from clip to clip. I started sharing with others what I was doing. People were surprised. Didn’t know that could be done. I was amused; why didn’t they try?
Then a ‘holy-shit’ moment banged in. Putting the clips together and holding them just right allowed me to enter those clips. I could travel in time and place to wherever and experience it. Stunning awakening. As I told others and prepared to show them, I awoke.
Saturday’s Theme Music
Sunshine kicked out the clouds at 5:34 AM on this blue spring day in Ashland, Saturday, June 12, 2021. Temps immediately jumped up ten degrees and cheered. The back door was thrown open to warm air. Tails up, the cats jaunted out and sniffed, whiskers moving with appreciation for what the day had brought. The temps tell me they’ll be testing the upper edges of sixty (maybe seventy, a few whisper), before the sun gives a final glance over the valley and walks away at 8:47 PM.
Dreams of gold kept awakening me. It rained gold in one dream segment. Surprised by the golden shower, I put my hand out and looked up into the forbidding dark sky. I didn’t feel threatened, just non-plus by this change. Why was it raining gold. Then I laughed. It’s raining gold. And awoke.
Out of that and another gold-themed dream came echoes of “Gold Dust Woman” by Fleetwood Mac, 1977. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Cheers
Friday’s Theme Music
The Earth rolled over. The sun’s first feeble rays hove into view.
5:34 AM.
“Morning has broken. Like the first morning.”
Too early for nonsense.
Thought processes were engaged. Thursday? No, Friday. June something. Eleventh. Still 2021.
Rain fell outside. The sunshine drooped. Clouds barged in. The heater kicked on. Cats slumbered. He would slumber on, too. What time was sunset today? Eight something. 8:47 PM, he remembered, eyes closed, breathing deepening. He returned to his dream. Better there anyway.
Dream songs enter. “All I want to do is dream.” “All the leaves are brown, and the sky is gray.” “These dreams go on when I close my eyes.” “Sweet dreams are made of these. Who am I to disagree?” “Runnin’ down a dream. That never would come to me.” “Dream weaver, I believe you can get me through the night.” “Dream on.”
He sleeps and dreams. Awakens. Half-hearted sunshine lights the bedroom. Coffee, he thinks. The list. Things must be done. He heads into the bathroom. Songs walk with him. “Stray cat strut, I’m a ladies’ cat.” “In the year of the cat.”
The coffee pot beckons in the kitchen. Sunshine withers to a softer shade of pale. Let it rain, rain, rain. Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head. The sky is crying.
He sips his coffee. Enter Ringo Starr. “It don’t come easy. You know it don’t come easy.” Uriah Heep responds. “This is a thing I’ve never known before, it’s called easy living.” Charlie Daniels strikes back with “Uneasy Rider”. He needs to write. “Paperback writer,” the Beatles sing. A truck rolls back outside. “Truckin'” by the Grateful Dead begins. 1970. He heads for the other room. “It’s raining again.” Supertramp. There’s a song for every thought. “I think we’re alone now.” “Do ya think I’m sexy?” “You better think. Think!” “Did you think it’s alright if we leave the boy with Uncle Ernie?”
Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get that vax.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
The hump day cometh and the hump day goeth. Daybreak began at 5:34 AM in Ashland, Oregon. Most of the flowers have lived their life of color in my neighborhood, fading to leafy remains. Thanks to cooler temps — highs have dropped from the standard 90 – 100 degrees F days to low 60s — and a splatter of rain, lush greens dominate. Nightbreak (hey, we have daybreak) will come at 8:46 PM. We’re fast approaching that longest day, meaning the longest period of sunshine, in the north. In the southern hemisphere, they’re hurrying toward their shortest day of the year. Then, the northern hemisphere minutes of daylight will start declining while they start adding up to longer days south of the equator. It’s the great circle of seasons, the revolution around the sun.
Out walking yesterday, I encountered a handsome silver tabby. Meowing with urgency, they ran to me. A collared adult, a heart-shaped metal tag informed me the friendly feline was named Rajah. Rajah was very healthy and enjoyed my fingerwork. But a truck backing up sent Rajah racing back up the lawn he came down. I wrote Rajah’s phone number on my hand (always carry a pen — it’s my talisman), then wondered, what’s the name of this street, with an eye toward looking up lost cat reports on our local neighborhood posts. As I went through that process, U2 fired up “Where the Streets Have No Name”, a U2 fave of mine from 1987.
I wasn’t planning on using it for today’s theme music, but the theme of being in a nameless place in a dream where I was searching for a street sign came up in a dream. As I thought about that dream, “Where the Streets Have No Name” was revived in the mental stream.
So here we are. This is the official video of the song, with U2 playing on top of a building. Think the Beatles did that once. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, and get the vax. Cheers
Coins for A Journey Dream
The dream began in a huge junkyard. Discarded household goods abound. My cats, Boo (a house panther) and Papi (aka Meep, Youngblood, and The Ginger Blade) were with me. Running around, they kept fighting, diverting my attention from other events as I break up their fights, scold them, and stop them from stalking one another. They keep at it, first Boo stalking Papi, then it’s the reverse, noisy and intrusive.
Then I’m walking about a densely populated office. Busy, busy, busy, the place is low-ceilinged and enormous. I can’t see either end. I’m lamenting that a major project has been canceled, lambasting management over that, wondering what I was going to do with myself. People agree with me. We’re all disappointed. It’s wrong. It should not have been canceled. A big boss came along and began commiserating. His arm over my shoulder, we walk around, him looking over about to ensure others couldn’t overheard, reassuring me, the project isn’t over, he likes my work and is keeping me on his team, and he has work for me to do. “Don’t worry, good news is coming soon,” he tells me. “Stay patient.” Okay, that buoys my energy. He’s smiling the whole time and claps me on the back as we separated.
Back to walking about on my own, now I wonder, where are my cats? I haven’t seen them for a while. Are they okay? Strangers come up and give me coins. “Found these and thought I’d give them to you, Michael,” a man said, presenting me with a little bag of coins. I find all shiny, new silver inside. New silver dollars, minted this year, quarters, and an oversized silver coin. Shinier than the rest, it just says “The United States of America” on one side and the year, 2021. A mountain range with a sunset (or sunrise) is on the other. It’s larger than a silver dollar, no denomination on it. I guess it’s a commemorative coin. I discover that I already had a red bag of coins. These are added to my collection, where I find that I had another new silver dollar and a large quantity of new quarters.
Pleased and excited, I now become embarrassed as people continue coming up, giving me coins, which are all new, and usually quarters, although some pennies are mixed up in it. “I don’t need all this,” I protest. Others assure me, “Yes, you do, take them with you on your journey.”
That I’m going on a journey is news to me. Others passing by give me throwaway details, “It’s the trip you’ve been waiting for,” “It’s going to be a long road,” “You’ll need those coins to get what you need,” “You’ll need them for where you’re going.” I respond, “Where am I going?” No one answers this question.
Then, excited and happy, outside now in a small and busy city square, I’m walking around, beginning my journey. Laughing to myself, I ask myself, “Are you really going? Are you going to do it?” Others call out greetings and wave to me. It’s a festive air. As a wind blows, I look up at blue sky and white clouds.
Dream ends.
Messages On A Mountain: A Dream
This was a wild one. Beginning with me dressed in faded raspberry-colored running shorts and a tee shirt, I ran up and down this mountain, receiving, carrying, and delivering messages. The weather was fine, the mountain, high, rocky, and steep, but dotted with bushes and trees. The more I did it, the more effortless it became. I was having fun and getting in great shape, becoming trimmer and more muscular.
All walks of people from my life lined the mountains as I went about my business, including sisters, wife, and friends from different life eras. I stopped to chat with some on some runs. Many commented on my improved physical form, which, yes, made me happy.
A break was taken for a meal. My mother- and father-in-law, both deceased, were present, along with my wife, cousins, and others. Overall, it was a small gathering. My father-in-law and I were preparing the meal, with him more or less guiding me as I worked out what needed to be done. People were seated, waiting to be served. They were along one wall, backs to it, with a table in front of him. I noted that the table was too high and said so to my father-in-law. A cousin pointed out that folded tables along the wall would probably work. I unfolded one and confirmed its height was the ideal height for an eating surface.
I drifted off to another location. We discovered time was going backward. Was it time going backward or our perception that was askew? Perhaps reality was twisted, or was it just our perception of reality. Or was it just the clocks going backwards? Tests were made and the conclusion was reached, yes, time seemed to be going in reverse. Sunrises became sunsets. People, cars, and animals traveled backward. What was causing this and what did it mean?
I discovered that I could drink water and return the clocks to their normal running. Something would happen to cause the reverse order. We learned what but I can’t recall it now. Whenever that happened, though, I drank water and all returned to normal. After testing this for myself and verifying it, I started showing it to the others and explaining it. I discovered that I lost my running shorts, so I was naked from the waist down. That didn’t bother me, or anyone else. I demonstrated again and again that my drinking water restored proper reality. As I showed it to the collective, each required personal observation that it worked. The question became, would drinking water restore reality for others?
That’s when the dream ended.
Wednesday’s Theme Music
Sun broke in the day at 5:37 AM, kicking the heat up to 71 degrees F. We hit 101 at my house yesterday, and it only dropped to 64 during the night. We expect the high to be a more merciful 96 before the Earth’s rotation moves us away from the sun again at 8:41 PM.
Today is Wednesday, June 2, 2021. We’re almost to the year’s midpoint. As for COVID-19 vaccinations, we’ve passed 54 percent in Oregon for at least one shot. Our neighbors to the north and south, Washington and California, are about the same. Idaho to the east, though, is leveling off at below forty percent. It’s like they’re not even trying.
Today’s music is dream inspired. I joined the blues society in my dream. I thought one of my favorite performances of a song called “Why I Sing the Blues” would be a satisfying theme song. Thanks to technology, we can enjoy this moment. Here’s B.B King, Albert King, Gladys Knight, Etta James, Eric Clapton, Phil Collins, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Billy Ocean, Doctor John, Chaka Khan…and more. What a line-up.
Get the vax, wear a mask as needed, test negative, and stay positive. Enjoy the blues. Cheers
The Activities Dream
There were so many of us. All there for activities, as in clubs and sports activities. Buildings, fields, tents and canopies provided the settings.
I was there mainly for racquetball. We had a tournament…seven players. I was ranked fourth. Yes, mid-field, but I was having fun. An elderly white man with a laconic voice approached me and told me that he thought he could help me improve. Was I interested?
Absolutely. He started by telling me he would hit a few balls around to see how I reacted and assess my playing level. Only three balls were hit, though. I returned two of them. The first shot pleased me, the second shot was ‘okay’, but the third was horrid. I was thinking that I needed to improve my racquet control but he was like, “Oh, dear, that wasn’t good.” Interruptions kept him from hitting other balls. We needed to leave the court.
So we went outside. Overcast, a blowing wind put me into a sweater and jacket. My instructor hit a ball. It went wildly askew. With others watching, he encouraged me, “Chase it down, chase it down, get it, get.” I ran and ran, trying to get my racquet under the blue ball…and failed.
Oh, he was disappointed. “We have much more work than I thought,” he announced.
Rain began falling. I took that as an excuse to quit, taking off my sweater and jacket, and putting on a raincoat. I was also concerned that my blanket was getting wet, and had to retrieve it. My instructor said that we’d continue later.
I went into the building and joined a group of young people. Many were female. Inquiring what they were there for, they informed me that they were part of the surfboard building club. Did I want to join? They passed around sample materials and sign up sheets. They were trying to think of other uses for surfboard materials and construction techniques. “What about coffins,” I suggested. Half-serious, I said it would make coffins lighter. I decided not to join that group and went on.
Next stop was the blues society, where they were offering lessons in how to play blues guitar. I signed up for that after some conversation. When I did, I discovered that I was already a member but that my dues were in arrears. I needed to pay five extra dollars to be reinstated. They handed me an electronic pad to sign my name and make the payment. As I did, my wife joined me. For some reason, I didn’t want her to know that I was five dollars overdue, so I hastily finished business and led her away.
The activities center was closing down. We were being urged to leave. Someone called something to us. Apparently, it was about my father joining the blues society. “No,” I answered, “he’s suicidal.” My wife repeated that response to the people asking the question.
We went on our way.
Michael Seidel, writer 