Category: Dreams

Coffee and Dreams

I awoke at about half past darkness with a dream in mind. Realized that I was writing in my dream.

I went over what I’d written. Considered rising to capture it. Decided not to. Resumed sleep.

Awoke in the morning. Went through dreams while doing light exercising and stretching. Daily ritual. The cats assumed the position. Stared fixedly with misery. Tucker seized a more active approach. Moved over and sat on my foot. Looked up at me. Eyes big. Waiting. Expectant. Give a little, “Mello,” in a friendly baritone.

Done with exercising, feeding cats was necessary before starvation took them. We went down the hall, they with eager anticipation, me with resignation. Cleaned out bowls — “You never even finished what I fed you last night” — opened a can. Doled out the wet food. Refilled the kibble stations. Cleaned and filled the water stations.

Coffee was brewed. Before it finished, I was back with the dream writing stuff. Headed to the computer. Wrote for an hour. Surprising how fresh and clear it had remained. Got up when my Fitbit reminded me that it was time to move. Remembered my coffee. Now cold. Drank some anyway. My taste buds immediately sent notices that this was unacceptable. I nuked the coffee hot. The taste buds were appalled.

Writing in my head was still happening. Hadn’t eaten yet but the muses were strong. So, despite the stomach’s increasingly vocal demands, I made fresh coffee and returned to the keyboard. Got back into the rhythm.

Half the coffee remains. It’s almost cold. Mug radiates an ant watt of warmth. Taste buds are not overly pleased with the dark fluid’s progress over their realm.

But it all works. Coffee and dreams. At least, today. Time to eat, according to my stomach. Get some real coffee, too, the taste buds request. Something hot and dark, please.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

First, standard warnings. The outside air is unhealthy. Recommend you avoid going outside. Don’t exert yourself outside. People with respiratory issues should take additional precautions.

COVID-19 positives cases remain high as vaccination rates continue to wane. ICUs are full. Wear a mask when outside your home, especially when in stores and restaurants. Social distance. The library is closed to browsing but there is front door service.

Welcome to Thursday, September 9, 2021.

It’s similar to Wednesday and Tuesday. Many of us wonder, when will this stop? The smoke. COVID-19. Drought. Water shortages.

Sunrise was at 6:44 AM. Sunset will be at 7:33 PM. Saw a big red-orange ball in the sky late yesterday afternoon. Purported to be the sun. And darkness did gather when it disappeared. So, cause and effect, must’ve been the sun.

Temperatures today will remain warm but not hot with a forecast high in the mid to open eighties.

A Wham song is rooted in the morning musical mental stream. This is a dream’s influence. I’m still sorting the dream. The song is “Everything She Wants” from 1984. I respect Wham and George Michael but their music wasn’t the sort I generally paid mind. But my female friends and wife looked their music so I heard it often. I’m still piecing together why it was in my dreamscape’s musical score.

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

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An Instruction Dream

This dream featured Mila Kunis and included my SIL, along with a cost of fifty more strangers.

I was sitting in a terminal. Don’t know what means of transportation, only that I was on a journey and waiting to start the next leg. Beside me, one empty seat removed, is Mila Kunis. She’s on the same trip. She is talking about where she’s been and where she’s going, answering questions for people. I’m listening but not paying deep attention to her.

We’ve been given a package. Included in that package is a small, tattered book. Small, about 1/2 inch thick, four inches by three inches. Black or dark blue or green. The cover color might be different for other people in the group. I’ve seen some with red, brown, and tan, but I’m not certain that they have the same book. I’ve opened my book. The pages are very thin. There are symbols inside. The symbols look like hieroglyphics in faded black ink. Bird, eyes, pyramids. I begin working my way through the symbols because I think they’re important to learn. I’m soon starting to read other material and interpret it by using the symbols.

My SIL comes up. We’re surprised and pleased to see one another. She’s traveling, too. We’re going to the same place. Asked me what I’m doing with the book. She’s noticed it but I’m the only one in the group with it open. I explain what I’m doing and what I’ve learned so far. She tells me that’s a great idea, that she wants to do that, too, can I help her get started? I agree, and I start reading things to her, explaining the symbols and their relationships. Mila Kunis joins us to learn, too.

We’re all then called to move to another section. When I go there, I realize that I’ve seen the new place. They’re part of the symbols. I realize, too, that for us to move forward as planned, we need as a group to be arranged differently. I mention these things to SIL and Mila. SIL calls that out to the travel leader. The leader doesn’t know about it but he believes me. He wants me to arrange everyone as they should be.

I give instructions. Everyone has a chair. They need to be in one straight line at a specific place. I tell them to do this. When we finish, another group arrives and then ‘takes off’. The group I’m in wants to know why they went first. I explain, “Because their line was straight. We’re not aligned.” I’m looking along the line of chairs. It’s a tiled floor. With the tile pattern, it’s very easy to see that we’re not aligned.

I explain that to everyone. “Look at where you’re sitting. Look at the line on the tile. We need to be in a straight line. You should all be aligned on the same line of tile.” I walk along, repeating this, pointing it out to people, encouraging them to move and fix the line. They finish doing that. We’re ready to take off.

I turn to wait. I’m the only one standing but that, it seems from my reading, is right. While I’m waiting, I resume studying the book.

Dream end.

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A WV Dream

Dreamed I was in West Virginia last night. An interesting twist to recent dream trends. I lived in WV for three years. My father had moved there as part of a business deal. I went with him, graduating high school there before joining the military back in 1974. I’ve been back a few times since. Dad no longer lives there.

In this dream, I was back as a guest, and was about twenty years old. Apparently some show that I created was going into production. It somehow involved WV. So I was there, soaking up local flavor. I was also mindful that many wanted to be part of the show and were trying to impress me. Much of what was to transpire would be recorded by a film crew following me around. But the crew wasn’t always around.

It was late afternoon on what felt and seemed like an early fall day, sunny with clouds. A young man wanted to take me around to show me the real WV. I was skeptical and nervous, actually a bit fearful, but I wanted this experience. So I said, “Okay, lead on.” Eagerly he drove me to another location in a dilapidated, smoking car. He talked through a broad grin and heavy accent the entire time. Was taking me to meet others and have a drink. Having parked, we were required to walk down a hill to a house. Three other young men, my host’s friends, met us. They seemed dubious and suspicious of me. Then, apparently realizing who I was, became eager to impress me. First, I was poured some clear drink that was a potent local vintage alcohol. They downed their shots and urged me to drink mine. I did with a wince, enduring a blaze down my gullet.

Next we walked to another location. They were all talking as we went. We came to an enclosure. My senses and thinking were overwhelmed by then. The enclosure looked muddy. Fenced in, it apparently presented some threat. They discussed it; I didn’t understand. One explained to me, “Carefully edge around this.” They were showing me where to go. Up along a wall. Over a small fence. Along another wall. They would go another way as a distraction.

I climbed over the cyclone fence. Footing is uneven. The space is narrow. Began going along a crumbling stone wall. The fall would only be five or six feet but they’d warned me not to fall. Suddenly, yelling. A woman is yelling at me. A barking dog races over the enclosure at me. The others, who were supposed to be creating the diversion, are up at the top, urging me to hurry. I speed up. The dog runs up and starts nipping at my legs. I get over the final fence. We all laugh about this.

We pack into a small car for a short drive. The experience has relieved tension. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. We’re more amicable and trusting. We take a short drive along a winding back road. Arrive at another’s place. Not sure if it’s a bar or a home. About twenty people are there, waiting to meet me. I’m walked around, introduced to people. They’re eyeing me, asking questions about the project. I’m laughing, comfortable and happy as I answer them.

Dream end

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Welcome to Sunday, September 5, 2021. It’s September’s first Sunday, which means tomorrow is September’s first Monday, and that rhymes with Labor Day weekend in America. Yes, it’s the day when summer is considered done. The season is yet to change for a few weeks. That doesn’t matter. Summer is done. Vacations are wound down. Children return to class. Grills are fired up for one last hurrah.

Back east, my family has the grand cookout planned. Sister #3 is coordinating the effort. She is the hostess. Sixteen are attending. Mom is taking dessert: an apple pie, chocolate peanut butter bars, and tuxedo cake. She made the bars, purchased the rest. Yes, it’s overkill. Food overkill is the family tradition on these holidays. My brother-in-law will be at the grill. He’s a master. Wish I cold be there but it’s several thousand miles east of here. Takes a day of flying or several days of driving. Where’s a bullet train when you need it?

They’re two degrees south of us at home in Penn Hills, PA. About 1500 feet lower in elevation. Makes a difference with sunrise and sunrise. Temperatures. Sunrise locally was 6:41 AM. Sunset will be 7:38. Yep, less than twelve hours of sunshine today mitigating the smoke today. Our high will be in the mid-eighties. Mom says it’ll probably be in the seventies at their place. So, cooler there, with a lower AQI. Ours is 237 now. Purple. Very unhealthy to breathe. Penn Hills has an AQI of 16.

My dreams have summoned The Police and their frenetic ballad from 1983, Synchronicity I, to the morning mental music stream (McubedS, patent pending). My dreams didn’t come out wholly baked today. Only mutterings and glimpses in the fog remain. The strongest sensation was of dancing. I was going to a dance or dancing somewhere. Yes, something about a dance but what? No other elements would return.

The thinking sequence stirred me to recall “Synchronicity I” lines: A sleep trance, a dream dance, a shared romance, synhronicity. That became the day’s theme music for me.

Stay positive. Test negative. Wear a mask as needed. Get the vax if you haven’t already. Try to remain somewhat sane. I think it’s a spectrum myself. Fluctuating by the hour. Sanity, that is. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Camp Dream

I was an adult and at a camp or retreat. Nothing posh. Many other people there. No one I know. Most were my age. A few were older. Part of the setting, a mild green tinge imbued everything. Skin, clothing, skin. All were tinged green. Not deep. But noticeable.

They made an announcement that we were going to play games. Everyone else was already in gym gear. I needed to change and told them. I had some trouble finding my gym bag. Once I found it, I sought privacy to change. The only place I could find was an old restroom. Cold and wet rough cement floor. Yellow walls — tinged green. Door that didn’t fit right. The door had a dead bolt. I was trying to close it and lock the dead bolt but others kept interrupting. I finally explained what I was trying to do. Left alone, I closed the door and bolted it. Stripped down to put on gym clothes. First set didn’t fit. They couldn’t be my clothes. But I knew those clothes and it was my bag. Next, I couldn’t get the shorts on and then I ripped them. Finally, I managed to get something on that fit. The white shorts and tight white top didn’t please me. But I had nothing else. I went with it.

I went outside to discover that they’d already begun playing. Teams were even. I couldn’t participate. That upset me. I understood that I’d been a long time and that they couldn’t wait But, mitigating what had happened, I’d been delayed. Nevertheless, that was the situation.

I moved to the side by myself and watched. The dream bounced forward from that scene. The games were over. We were gathered to hear about the next activity. Young woman of color was announcing it. I was sitting with others. We’re all tinged green. The coordinator said, “I hear that there’s a writer or novelist among you. Who is that? You’ll enjoy this activity.”

I immediately raised my hand. My hand was the only one raised. People around me turned and pointed to me while saying, “He’s the writer, he’s the novelist.”

The coordinator never looked my way. Never saw me. Then went on, “Who wants to do a fun creative exercise?” My hand was still up. Others still pointed at me. But others raised their hands. The coordinator went to them and passed out the exercise. This went on until only me and one other remained. The other was a young woman of color. She and I told the coordinator that we weren’t given an exercise.

The coordinator said, “Oh, you two can work together.” She then gave us some objective which struck me as make-work.

My partner and I went off to a table. She sat down. Rain sprinkled down. I said, “I don’t think I want to do this. It seems like a waste of time.”

She said, “Neither do I.” She called the coordinator over and said, “We’re not doing this.”

I then walked off.

Dream end.

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A Moving Dream

A rusty, fog-like orange hue enveloped this entire dream. My wife and I were moving. Another couple was involved. I suspect they were moving at the same time. In honestly, looking back, I believe they were another version of us sharing the dream. Plans were made. How we can move. When. Where. A specific day was selected. We went to the place. Then I discovered, my wife had an appointment for that day and place. She wouldn’t be able to help with the move. Neither would the couple because they were going with her.

I didn’t understand how such a miscommunication could happen. We’re planning a move for that day and she makes an appointment. Yes, I was angry.

We arrived at the place. My wife was driving. There was a huge, steep hill paved with bricks. She drove herself and the couple up it; I walked up it, a strenuous task. A man at the top who helped run things there couldn’t believe that I’d walked up that hill. That I’d kept up with the car. “I don’t believe anyone has ever done that.” He laughed. Because it was a silly statement. People were probably doing it all the time without him noticing.

They went to the appointment. Promises to come back and help — the next day — were given. My exasperation exploded. But I needed to do what I could. I’d come here to move; that’s what I would do. Others were there, eyeing me, asking if everything was okay, if I needed help. I assured all that I was fine. I collected items that were trash, putting them into a bag. Sometimes, some of the others would come by. I’d tell them what it’s the bag and they’d take it with them. About this time or so, “Lido” by Boz Scaggs began playing. It would play through the rest of the dream. I sometimes sang along with it.

To get rid of the trash bag, I climbed up to a chute. I would put the large trash bag into the chute and ride down with it. I did that, arriving out of the chute with the bag as my wife and the other couple returned in the car. At that point, we all realized that I’d almost finished moving our things. We just needed to get into the car and drive to the new location.

Dream end

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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.

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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

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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.

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