Category: Dreams

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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The Three Cats Dream

I was in a field behind apartments or buildings, not sure which. I looked across and saw a small cat. The cat seemed about six months old. Mostly white, it had a black tail, black spots on its head, and black. It was watching me. I thought it homeless. A stray. So, I moved toward it to help it. See if it was alright. As I did, I saw a second one. Identical markings and pose. It was toward my left. There’s two, I thought, then saw a third further left. They were situated like they sat at first, second, and third base on a ball field. I thought, how odd, and, they seemed healthy. But, I wanted to pet them and ensure they were okay. I didn’t see a mother cat. I also wondered why they were on this field.

While dealing with the cats, which didn’t avoid me but nor did they hurry to me, I ended up by a parking lot. Men with cars were there. One, young, white, with a black beard, began chatting with me. I decided to forestall where the conversation was going. I told him, “I don’t have employment for you. I’m sorry. I feel for you. I appreciate your situation. I don’t know the particulars but I know that you want to work. I know you’re eager to work but you can’t find work. And I’m sorry, but I don’t have any work for you.”

He told me that he appreciated my honesty but wanted to know how I’d made it. I told him I was lucky. Entered the military, stayed with it twenty years, and had some success with a combination of intelligence, work, and luck. I thought most of it was luck. But what did I do after that? Again, I was lucky. Joined startups, was promoted, ended up with IBM, kept on for fifteen years. Some hard work but a a lot of luck. Wasn’t trying to humbrag or nothing; trying to be straight with them. So, my advice, he wanted to know? “Find a toehold. Work hard. Hope to create separation from others but stay kind. Friendly. Positive. And just keep at it. Keep your fingers crossed that you’ll be lucky.”

Then, one of the cats came to me. I picked it up.

Dream end.

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The Healers Dream

We were outside, on a wooden deck. Like a restaurant deck under blue sky. Three tables. Eighteen people. Men, women. No one I knew.

Women came among us dressed in purples, raspberries, golds and yellows, greens. Loose clothing. Skirts, blouses, and vests. We knew they were healers. Everyone was there because they wanted to be healed.

The women walked around us, checking everyone out. One, short and swarthy, with brown hair, came up to me and said with a friendly laugh, “Don’t worry. You’re okay.”

Dream end.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Sunrise, sunset, smoke, weak sun, high temperatures, COVID-19 spiking. Yes, this is Saturday, 8/14/21. Hope your Friday the 13th went well.

So the sunrise, sunset, air quality, and temperature numbers go 6:12 AM, 8:11 PM, 162 (very unhealthy) and 100 F, again. COVID-19 case numbers are in the hundreds in our county. Highest ever. Delta variant. Unvaccinated account fo over 98 percent, according one doc. Hospitals overcrowded. ICUs full. Emergency assistance sought from the state. Plans to put up field hospitals. COVID-19 deaths are also the highest ever in our southern Oregon county.

Our town, though, remains a small oasis. More were vaccinated. Wore masks. Took precautions. Most cases in the county originate in two towns that went heavy for Trump. Who eschewed masking with extreme contempt. Sneered at vaccines. Fighting to keep their children from being vaccinated or wearing masks. Yep, even while they have the highest COVID-19 case numbers in the state. I think there’s some moral there. If I could just put my finger on it.

Busy, busy, dream night. Cats contributed. Keeping two of the three in due to heavy smoke. Third, the youngest, is too adamant to be kept in. Paws at windows. Beats blinds. Screams for freedom. Raises a ruckus with the other two. Because I’m keeping the two older bois in, the pet door is closed. Hence my multiple sleep interruptions.

Anyway, while brewing desperately desired coffee this AM, I was pondering dreams. So real. Was that a dream or is that a memory? Wasn’t sure with some of them. Worried me about my state of mind. Anyway, from that arose a song by Mister John Lennon. “#9 Dream” (1974). When I heard it on the radio, I also heard the DJ saying that the song came to Lennon in a dream. But the word, “Was it in a dream, was it just a dream? I know, yes, I know, seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me.” Had never seen this video until today. Eye opening and thought provoking, IMO.

Study hard and stay in school. No, wait. Started on the wrong phrases, didn’t I? Guess it was a slip back to 1974. Test negative and stay positive. Wear a mask as needed and get the vax. Here’s the music. Cheers

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A Dream of Nerds

I was on location somewhere. Huge friggin’ building. Mixed used. Offices, classrooms, and dorms. Not sure of my purpose there. Clearly a visitor as others introduced me. Looked me over. Showed me the ups and downs. Overall, the raisons d’être seemed about learning, teaching, and solving problems related to electronic communications and computer networks. We would form impromptu erratic groups that changed composition. All were young. Very smart. Male and female of multiple races and ethnicities were present. After forming in halls or lobbies, we’d be told something like, “So and so wants us in the blah blah blah,” and off we’d scurry. Never caught names. None of the faces were familiar. They were distinctly nebbish and nerdish, though. A vibe. The machines absorbed their intention. They made silly jokes.

They wanted to befriend me but I was dubious about being there. I didn’t select going there. Wasn’t certain of what was going on. But did learn that I would only be there a short time. A few days. This was a catalyst for them all to want to spend more time with me and be my friend. All kept trying to grab me so they could talk to me, pulling me close, pulling me away from others, following me as a herd, swamping me as I walked the halls and stairs. I was flattered and overwhelmed.

In the evenings, we could go to a club. Have beers. Well, that appealed to me. That immediately appealed to my new cohort. They were all for it. Going then involved an elaborate process of acquiring passes to leave and enter the right buildings and halls, and possessing the correct identification and means to buy beers. Totally bewildering to me on the first night. My new friends took me through it.

By the second day, I was more familiar, comfortable, and assertive. I was finding where I wanted to go. What I wanted to do. Then, beer again in the evening. My friends were less sure. Beer? Again? But we did that last night. Another group, who’d missed out on the previous evening, heard and wanted to go, so everyone went. Huge crowd.

Third time I spent more time in the classrooms. I was introduced to computer networks. They were having problems. We begin changing out components. The teacher led this process. I thought it haphazard. Shouldn’t we be tracking what we did and the results? It became more chaotic. Noisier. The volume deafened me. I focused on what was going on with fixing the computer networks. Can’t articulate in our real existence what was going on. Only that a fix was needed. We were removing and installing silver modules about the size of ancient removable hard drives. After doing a number of them, I discerned a pattern and began suggesting changes.

That’s where the dream ended.

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The Blackberry Dream

Blackberries. Love to eat them. They add sweet juiciness to everything. But they’re invasive. Will take over. And highly flammable. These traits make them threats to urban areas.

We soldier against a blackberry plant. Never with pesticides. Cut it back. Dig it up. Last night, they returned, in my dreams.

I was outside our house. The dream house wasn’t like our real house. The dream house had walls with garden beds all around the house, up against the foundation. I liked the arrangement and was walking through, admiring it, when I discovered blackberry bushes growing in it. Wasn’t the ordinary blackberry growth, though, no. These blackberry branches were several inches thick. They were pushing out the cut end and had not leaves, stems, branches, or berries. They had large thorns, though.

I was appalled by what I saw and headed back inside to talk with my wife and make plans. To return inside the house required me to pass through a cafeteria-style cafe. Make sense? No, but this is dream land. A young woman with her infant was sitting down at a table with three friend. She was complaining about the blackberry bushes’ sudden appearance at her house. I stopped to commiserate and flirt. Yes, I flirted with blackberry bush invasions as my baseline, trying to launch off that to impress her with my charm, knowledge, and wit. Such a dream flirt, I am. It fell completely flat.

I hurried on to my wife. When I arrived in our home, she greeted me with her discovery of the blackberry bushes. Demands of how did this happen and what are we going to do followed. I explained that I’d just learned of it. She cut me off to tell me about the unusual growth. Yeah, I know, I basically responded.

Meanwhile, two young nephews were eating at the table. They had blackberry bushes and were joking about the growths and laughing. I tried explaining our concerns about them but they paid no attention.

Dream end.

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