Category: Dreams

The Mt Tam Dream

Mount Tam, full name, Mount Tamalpais, is part of the Marin Hills. Twenty-six hundred feet high, it won’t awe with its rise about the land the way that Mounts Hood and Shasta do, or McLaughlin. I knew abut it from living in the SF Bay area and Peninsula for fourteen years. We’d read about it, and visited twice, maybe three times, during our local explorations.

Didn’t stop me from dreaming about it. First came name confusion. I was being told to go to Mt. Tam. Mt. Tam? Yes, Mt. Tam. We exercised some Laurel & Hardy exchanges about what was being said. I’d quickly reached the point where I understood that I was being told to go to Mt. Tam. My point, which I struggled to convey with little humor, was, why do I need to go to Mt. Tam? But they — the unseen folks I was speaking to, but who sounded and seemed male — were fixated on ensuring that I understood the place’s name without clarifying why going there was important. The back and forth eventually felt as painful as a bad tooth.

They gradually led me to believe there is something in Mt. Tam, the something never being explained, continuing my stretch of exasperation. I’m supposed to go to Mt. Tam to get something that’s there that I’ll know what it is when I get there. Seems significantly vague.

Then, going over the dream, I wonder, was Mt. Tam a literal destination being directed to me from my dream masters or a metaphor for matters churning through my subconscious? Bonus discussion points, for me, anyway: how much of this dream was influenced by The Overstory, as I’m currently reading that. For that matter, how much is generated from wrestling with the novel in progress?

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The Friends Dream

This is not about the television series. This dream was about Mary & Bruce, names given to them for this dream. May worked for me. I met Bruce through others. He and I became good friends. He and Mary married.

Bruce has died in the dream. I just found out about it. He’s such a wonderful person, I’m completely shocked by his passing.

Mary has become a VIP. I want to see her to learn about Bruce’s death. In parallel, I’m told by another that Mary got him a good deal on a Jeep. I decide that I’d like to try to get a good deal when I see Mary to learn about Bruce’s death.

I call her office. There’s a little verbal altercation between me and her assistant. They don’t know who I am. Mary is a VIP with a heavy schedule. I’d like to see her. Mary comes on the line and tells me, “Of course I’ll see you, Sergeant Seidel,” just like we’re still in the service and she’s working for me. “I’ll make time.”

I go to her via a traveling montage. Arriving, I learn that Mary is struggling to get some photographs developed. I look for and find the photographs. They’re of her and Bruce and their children while on vacation. There’s also some photographs of symbols on walls. I understand that photographing them is forbidden. This is why the photos aren’t developing right. But I still believe I can fix them.

Mary and I met and walk along outside. She’s lovely as ever. Yes, she can get me a car discount, she tells me. We don’t really talk about Bruce’s death, just that he abruptly passed away. She misses him but she’s okay.

She has to return to work. I walk with her. We come across a man. He’s a VP who works for Mary. He’s tried to develop the photographs and couldn’t do it. I tell Mary that I want to try. She agrees. Tells me to take the photographs and see what I can do, but she wants them back. I agree. I’m wearing a leather jacket and slip them inside. Then I get on a motorcyle and ride away.

Dream end.

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The Assistant Dream

I was walking alone through an empty school. While not recognized by my mind while awake, I knew it in the dream. I encountered other people. They began congratulating me. “Looks like you were selected. Congratulations.”

“For what?” I asked back, shaking hands. Well, people told me, they were sending an assistant out to help one lucky person, and you won. It was announced today.

Surprised and happy, I was inclined to turn it down. “I don’t need an assistant, thanks.” Apparently, it wasn’t optional.

I went on my way. A woman accosted me. She held hands with one child. Several others were with her. “I heard about you and I wanted to meet you,” she said.

Hi, nice to meet you, I answered back, inquiring about who she was. Turns out she was a friend’s wife. Those were her children. Well, it was nice to meet them all, I said, shaking hands all around. Pleasantries were paraded out, then she took her children and led them away while I continued through the school.

I entered the gymnasium. Another woman with children was there, saying very similar things as the first, about wanting to meet me. I inquired more, why did she want to meet me? Well, she’d heard about me from her husband. It dawned on me that I didn’t know my friends’ families, and that those families were making an effort to change that. After chatting with her, I sat at a table, where another wife and family approached, talking about wanting to meet me. Meanwhile, my assistant, a tall, beautiful woman, arrived in the gym. She was famous and I recognized her. While she approached, I was still talking to a woman introducing her family.

The assistant arrived at the table. Excusing myself for a moment, I broke off my conversation to address the assistant. I told her, while flattered, I thought others required an assistant more than I did, so I was turning her services down. She answered that I didn’t have a choice, that she would be with me for a while, which was where the dream ended.

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The New Clothing Dream

A friend and I were staying with a gay couple. I seemed to be in my early twenties. The couple lived in a city apartment a few floors up. A big city, the place was busy and noisy. I was there to get rid of my old clothing, and then I was taking a trip to get new clothing. We were flying out for that purpose the next day. Meanwhile, my buddy wanted us to go out on the town before leaving. Parallel to this, our hosts were throwing a party (unrelated to our visit). They’d also received a new table and were putting it together.

As I’d chosen to get rid of my old clothes except what I was wearing and what I was traveling in the next day, I decided to find something to wear from the clothes I was getting rid of to wear out on the town. It should be something festive. I found an old pale yellow shirt with a red parrot embroidered on the left chest, a shirt I haven’t owned in over thirty years.

I paused while dressing to watch them trying to put the new table together. It wasn’t going well. They thought parts were missing and were calling the manufacturer for help. I thought that I would be doing it differently, as they seemed disorganized, but I believed part of the issue was that they already had too many people involved, so I remained uninvolved.

My friend was urging me to hurry up. It was night, and the night was calling him. He was wearing jeans and a maroon puffy jacket. I was only in a shirt. “Is it cold out? Do I need a jacket?” Without awaiting an answer, I went into my old clothes for a jacket. I pulled it on, but then decided it was too heavy and replaced with a lighter jacket, an old black “Members Only” jacket I used to have. I then worried, maybe I should change shirts because the parrot was no longer seen. But I left it at that. He and I scampered down the steps and into the brightly-lit night to have fun.

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The Ice Cream Dream

I was terribly sick in a dream. Not at first, though. First, ice cream chaos reigned. Ice cream was due to be served to people but supply issues and disorganization plagued the effort. Growing urgently angry, I stepped in to straighten everything out. The ice cream were mostly in little sealed cups. Varieties of flavors abounded. I tasted several before stepping in to fix the issues, and the ice creams were creamy and tasty. I felt I needed to step in because the incompetence on display insulted my sensibilities. Ice cream was being dropped everywhere. Melting. People were going without ice cream. That shouldn’t be, I thought. We have so much ice cream. Too much ice cream is being wasted.

I began organizing pods of people. Some were collecting the ice cream and taking them to marshaling points. Others were handing the ice cream out. Yet, people kept failing at their duties. Despite my efforts, the situation seemed as worse. I worked harder, faster, more demanding. Still no respite from the shortages and errors. The head honcho came down wanting to know the situation. I tried smoothing things over. He believed and accepted. Then he told me, “A little girl is at the front, Piper. Make sure she gets an ice cream.”

Right. I’d get right on that. I plunged my hands into a tub of ice cream cups. OMG, they were all warm. They’d all been opened, too. WTF! The honcho came back, shouting, “Where’s the ice cream for Piper?” “I’m on it,” I shouted back, then cursed, shouting, “All these ice creams have been opened. Why were they opened? Find me one that hasn’t been opened and take it up front to Piper.”

At that moment is when I began feeling sick. I rushed to a toilet, yanking my shorts down as I went. Too late; crap spilled out everywhere. The honcho came back and saw. “Oh, my, let me get someone to clean you up.” I replied, “We’re still looking for ice cream for Piper.”

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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