Category: Dreams

A Magenta Blanket Dream

Wave upon wave of dreams crashed upon my dream psyche last night. They left a lot to unpack. However, I’m only mentioning the final dream here.

I got out of bed and began making it. As I was halfway through, I discovered a large, magenta blanket on the bed. Holding onto it, I thought, wow, that is soft but where did it come from? I looked around; I’d never seen the blanket before. Chuckling with amusement, I decided I’d throw it on top of the duvet as a final cover. When I did, it spread out and smoothly covered the entire bed. I reacted, “Cool,” and then looked around, a smile on my face.

Dream end.

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A Classic Dream

I lost my pants in this dream. Classic, right?

I’d arrived at a new job working in a huge complex. No one seemed to be expecting me. Walking around in a dark blue suit, I was trying to get oriented. Others were about – none who I knew – so I stopped some and asked questions. All spoke with me and were friendly but none could help me.

Noticing something spilled on my suit pants, I sat down and took them off to dry. It was a large open area with sunshine and seats, like a airport waiting area, and no one was around, so I was comfortable doing that. Too comfortable, I guess, because I decided to wander and look around, killing time. An influx of people drove me back to put my pants on.

My pants were gone.

I hurried around, trying to find them, thinking that I must have misremembered where I left them. But no, I was right about where it was, and they were gone. And my keys were in my pocket. Damn it. Well, from somewhere, I came up with another pair of pants. These were brown tweed, didn’t fit me, and didn’t match my coat. But I was less conspicuous than running around in my boxers, right?

The rest of the dream was about me trying to figure out where I was and where I was supposed to go, asking people along the way. No one could help me. I resolved to do it myself but never did find where I was to be.

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Another Randy Dream

Naw, this isn’t a sexually randy dream. This is about my late buddy, Randy. He was with me in a dream last night.

Starting out, though, I was at work, a busy, productive, well-lit office. Things were humming. I was tasked with creating a model of a business park for a client. I ordered the model. It was delivered to me in as twenty blocks. Each block was a four inch square. Set them up on the table in order (they were numbered on their bottoms) and there is your model. The client, a blonde woman, accepted them without comment and departed.

A while later, my boss, John H, (who was my boss in RL when I was a product manager with Tyco) (that’s another story), came to me and asked me to provide the client with a model again, but this time, could I put it on something for them? Okay, of course. I guess the client wasn’t pleased, I thought.

I went to a friendly co-worker for help. He brought out a scale model of the Eiffel Tower that he was building. The model, made of scaled down struts, was six inches tall and exquisitely detailed. Lit in a golden light, it was in a small plastic cube. I gathered that he was going to remove that gorgeous model, his project, from the cube, to give me for my client’s model. Before he could begin that, I hastily clarified that this wasn’t big enough and that I didn’t want him to take apart his model for my sake.

I then had an idea of what to use, made some calls, or had that arranged. The model would be ready in the morning and I’d deliver it to the client. Meanwhile, I needed to go down the road to another location. Randy came in. That’s where he was going. Did I want to ride with him?

Sounded good, right? We hoped into his the little white Chevy econo-box that he used to drive and took off. Part way there, Randy announced that he just had to make a quick stop someplace. We stopped at a huge factory in the middle of a city. Factory and city had both declined in use and condition. He and I went in. Dressed in a business suit but with the shirt open and no tie, and no shoes, I just followed him. Finding someone working there, he made inquiries about another person who used to work there, then followed instructions to go to another station. I followed along behind him, watching where I stepped because I was barefoot. Randy then learned where he needed to go; it was outside of the factory. I’d gathered by his questions that he was looking for an old female friend…maybe an ex-wife or a sister…

He told me that it would be just a little longer. We left the factory and started through the city. “It’s just a couple blocks,” he said. I stopped and said, “Randy, I’m barefoot. How ’bout if I just stay here and wait for you? I’ll be at the car when you get back.”

That sounded good and became the plan. Randy strode off. I loitered, walking around, killing time. A shift of truck drivers came on. Suddenly, I was in everyone’s way as trucks were jockeyed around and loaded. I decided that the best thing to do was to leave the factory and wait outside.

Randy had been gone a while. I wandered in the direction that I’d seen him go. I ended up with others at a crosswalk. A glass door kept us from going until it was our time. When the light changed, the doors opened and we all started out.

The road funneled toward a short white bridge spanning a deep chasm. The bridge had two spans, one for each direction of two-lane highway. On the other side was a grassy hill with a road going up it.

Young Latino boys were playing some game that I didn’t recognize. Their device, which looked like a long black tube sock, tied and weighted, flew out of their playing field, landing not far from me. I realized they would need to cross all the traffic and the bridge to retrieve it, so I picked it up to throw back. After a moment of examination about the best way to handle it, and leery of throwing it short — because then it might go into one of the chasms — I hurled it back. It cleared everything with no problem. The boys thanked me and resumed their game.

I decided that it’d be best to go back and wait for Randy at his car. As I approached the car, I saw Randy standing there, waiting for me.

The dream ended.

1

The White Crocs Dream

Friends and I were gathering to celebrate. What a great experience, to be with friends, right? Yes. There was fourteen of us. The plan was we’d met the night before, sleep over, and then begin the celebration the next morning. Unfortunately, nine white crocodiles were hampering activities.

The crocs ranged from four to seven feet long. They’d been beaten out of the room before but now they were creeping back in. It was an odd sight: white crocodiles moving forward on plush light blue carpet, trying to hide under beds and chairs. Noticing them getting close to a friend, I called out a warning, then grabbed a piece of wood and beat the croc back.

Other crocs were coming in. I told everyone, “Come on, grab a stick, beat them back. If we don’t, they’ll be there, waiting to get us in the morning.” Finding bats, sticks, lumber in this plush room, we beat the crocs back together.

We left the room to begin the celebration. I kept a stick with me, just in case. We went outside and sat together at a dark green picnic table. A parade was going by. We were honoring MH and MQ. MH was there with us, but MQ had passed away almost six years before. We decided we’d drink something in MQ’s honor. Well, his favorite drink was compardri, someone declared, producing a thick red drink in a champagne flute. I’d never heard of the drink and had never seen MH drink it or mention. Well, whatever, though.

Two women were assigned to assist me. They sat down on either side of me and promised that they’d make sure I’d have things to eat and drink. I thanked them. MH talked about going to get something to eat. The parade was still going on, so we decided to drink more. MH asked me what I wanted to drink. I indicated I’d stick with the compardri.

MQ showed up. I was delighted to see him. He handed me a phone. I didn’t want to talk on the phone and told him. He answered, “I think you want to take this call,” with that gentle voice and smile he often employed.

I accepted the phone and said hello. A woman said, “Thank you for caring about our older people.” She then went into a short but boring speech. As I prepared to hang up, she said, “MQ was given two fellowships, and he’s chosen to bestow one of these on you.” As I realized what was being said, shock hit and I began crying in gratitude. I said, “I don’t deserve this.” MQ, standing beside me, looked at me and smiled. Ed Sherrin’s song, “Perfect”, began playing.

Yeah, weird song to finish with.

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The Adulting Dream

I felt like the sole adult in this dream, hence the title. I seemed to be visiting Mom’s home, at least, at first. It’s not like any house that she lived in. She was there, however, along with sisters, wife, and many others.

The first act found me looking around Mom’s home with dismay. She always kept a clean and organized house; this place, although big, didn’t fit that description. As others were talking, I stared at something in an upper corner of the room. It appeared to be a giant cobweb. I called that to Mom’s attention. When she went to clean it, she discovered that it was an old Halloween decoration that she’d put up. She thought it so pretty, she left it up there.

The family, including me, dispersed to do other things. I remained dissatisfied about the state of the house, and walked around looking for impressions to vet my conclusion. It seemed like people weren’t paying attention to it. Crossing into the dining room, I discovered the floor was soaking wet. So was the furniture. In fact, water was splashing on the floor through the open window. I gathered that the sprinkler had been turned out with a window left open, and that the sprinkler had been left running.

I fetched Mom to show her what was going on, telling her to walk into the room so that she could see for herself. When she exclaimed about the floor being wet, I showed her the open window and the sprinkler. Then I told her that this was what I meant by people not paying attention to details, not thinking.

That ended act one. The next act began in the same location, but with new features, people, and furniture. Young adults were being prepped for a test. I had an impression that I was a visiting uncle. I barely knew these four young people. They were experiencing trouble with some of the test prep. Every once in a while, though, they’d break out singing the Queen song, “Somebody to Love”. They did a good job of it, too. But singing that song was disrupting their test prep.

Moving in, I stopped the singing and reminded everyone that they were preparing for a test. Then I pulled out one of the books and put it on a table. The table was one of many, a square made for one person. But the four nieces and nephews pulled up chairs and sat around this one table as I explained what the problem was about and how to solve it. They picked it up quickly and then began studying in earnest. I made the suggestion that since the test was open book, they have the book opened to that particular page, ready. That thought that was a great idea.

I then backed away and observed to one of their parents, “They do know that they need to be at separate desks, don’t they, and have separate books?” After he confirmed that was true, I suggested that they go ahead and set up like that. They did that. I walked to the door to leave. As I did, one nephew began singing “Somebody to Love” again. As the others took up the song, I interrupted and reminded them that they needed to get ready for the test. Then I left.

Outside the place, I passed a small, pale yellow school. About a dozen teenage girls were in front of it, complaining that they were bored and had nothing to do. They seemed about the ages of my nieces and nephews, back getting ready for the test. These two groups should come together, I thought. They’d be good for one another.

I returned to the test area, intent on telling them that. As I came in, one nephew began singing, “Somebody to Love”.

Dream end.

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The Wife Dream

My wife and I were young people, in our early twenties, staying in a hotel in Korea. We had separate rooms; I don’t know why. It was a busy place, with chaotic rules that I couldn’t grasp. I was also constantly trying to change my underwear. Whenever I’d get somewhere private where I thought that I could, others would barge in on me, lighting up the high exasperation warning light.

My wife and I finally met in a crowded hallway outside of my room. We made plans to go see the sights and such but I first wanted a hair cut. I went down to the barber. One woman took money from me and gave me a chit. Another took the chit and gave me a second chit. A third took that chit and ushered me into a queue. I decided to wash my hair while waiting, thinking that would make it easier to cut. When it was my turn, they rinsed off my hair and sent me on my way. I asked my wife what she thought of it, and she replied that it was worse that before. I saw my hair in a mirror; it was long, thick, wavy, and black. I needed to have it cut but my wife was impatient to go on.

We heard people talking about going to Singapore. The way they talked, Singapore was an immediate neighbor. I was surprised; in my opinion, Singapore isn’t close to Korea and would take some hours of flying to reach it. I decided that my geography knowledge was wrong.

Acting listless and irritated, my wife kept wandering off and doing silly things, like snatching papers from other people to read, then throwing the papers aside. People were getting vexed with her, and so was I. We went outside to get a break from the crowds. Going outside, we ended up on a cliff path.

A gorgeous, lightly clouded sky was overhead. The path cut through thick green bushes that were waist high. She ran ahead when my back was turned. When I saw what she’d done, I ran after her. As I was catching her, she went off on another path, like she didn’t want me to catch her. Saying, “Screw it,” I kept running. Let her try to catch me. After running another forty yards, I stopped and looked back. I didn’t see her. I waited for a few minutes to see if she would show. When she didn’t, I shrugged.

It was time for her to start looking for me. Turning, I walked on.

The dream ended.

5

The Muses Dream

Oh, what a writing dream. It was a dark venue, inside somewhere. Lights were small and focused. I could see myself off to one side with a notebook and pen at a table. I was writing, but the book’s actions were playing out on a stage as I wrote. I appeared to be a giant beside it. What I wrote surprised. I’d been thinking about the novel in progress as I drifted to sleep and scenes that were to come. In the dream, though, things took a sharp turn. Little mischievous creatures took over. Pale white, short and squat, they were sexless, with no eyes and big smiles. Then I realized in the dream, “There are four of them?” I was trying to fit four into the scheme. Awakening, I thought about this, and then discovered I was dreaming about thinking about the dream, experiencing it as a dream in a dream, prompting thoughts of nesting dolls. Another voice announced with a chortle, “That’s the muses having fun.” Then I really awoke, wondering, WTH?

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Another Dream

I didn’t know what to call this dream. It popped about. The dream starts with my wife joining me in bed. Naked and in our twenties, we play grab-ass, laughing as we do. For some reason, it’s sunny.

Then… We’re at a play with audience participation. Don’t know what the play is about. I’m up by the stage. The audience, including me, are laying down. The light is low, with focus on the stage via yellow spotlights. During intermission, it’s announced that prizes are available. The prizes are up by me. I begin exploring them. One is of a pair of model racing cars: a Chaparral 2E and a Mclaren M8F. The Chaparral always raced as a white car while the McLarens were orange. In this model, though, the Chaparral body parts are painted orange.

Not all pieces are painted, I observe. The cars are models to be constructed, and small, maybe 1/86 scale, yet, there’s amazing detail. Some pieces are in chrome, and others are in brass. There are fittings for water and oil lines, suspension pieces, engine covers and headers, brakes, modular wheels… It’s mind-blowing the amount of details in these tiny models given away. The announcer is saying that these are for children but I say, “These aren’t for children. I’d never give these to children. The pieces are too small.” I look at the box, confirming that it states for children five and up. That has me shaking my head. It’d be a challenge for me to assemble.

We leave the theater, and are out on a sunny plaza. Many people are returning to work but I don’t need to. Because I was laying down at the theater, I have a pale yellow sheet around my waist. A red-headed young white woman is flirting with me. She’s talking about some safety procedures that I previously established for work, and how they’re still in use. They call them “the Seidels,” she informs me, which she implies is funny, but also implies that I should be honored because they’re still using the documents I create and call them by my last name.

She invites me to sit at a table with her. Drinks are ordered. Making chuckling noises, she’s reaching under the table. As the chuckling stops and the smile leaves her face, she finally looks under the table. I look, too. Her hand is up under my sheet. She asks with some indignation what I’m wearing. I realize that she was trying to get into my pants. I laugh. She huffs away.

There it is, all that I remember, although there’s a sneaking sense that I have some gaps.

3

A Blue and Orange Dress Dream

To begin, it’s the late 1960s on a hot, dry day. I’m younger than now but not appropriate for that era vis-à-vis my life. After watching some Formula 1 practice action, a dust-up between two cars at one corner stops practice. Strapped into my car, I’d been waiting to go out. Leaving my car, I returned to the garage area to get out of the sun and get a drink.

The two drivers involved with the accident, Sir Stirling Moss and Sir Graham Hill, come in. They’re trying to figure out what happened, so they’re going to talk it over. I suggest some coffee. Coffee was served to them in small glass cups. They finished it quickly. I told them that maybe we should sit down. They agreed to that and move to a table to one side. I asked and they agreed, they could use more coffee. I brought the pot over to serve them. Both glasses were sitting on a shelf above the table. I didn’t know which cup belonged to which driver. They tell me that it doesn’t matter. I poured the coffee into the cups. The coffee is light with milk as it came out of the pot.

Next, Tina Fey is walking around inside hallways which were in my body. As far as I know, I’m the only other present, but she’s acting like her 30 Rock character. My first reaction is, wow, Tina Fey is here. Second: she’s in my body. Third: there are hallways in my body. Fourth: Tina Fey is in my body making jokes about my organs. Consumed by those four thoughts, I understood nothing that she actually said.

A dreamshift takes place. I’m outside of a motel/lodge, in the parking lot, by the raised cement sidewalk. The motel is modeled after modernized log cabins. A candy stand dominates the sidewalk. Tiered rows of candy offerings face me. I’m amazed by the selection. Every candy I think of — Jujubes, Good n’ Plentys, Mars and Mounds bars, Dots, Old Henrys, York Peppermint Patties, are all there in neat rows. But they’re expanding, adding another section, to add more candy.

I’m amazed that so much candy is for sale and amazed that they’re preparing to offer yet more. There is nothing but candy. Shouting children begin running up to the stand. SMH, I enter the lodge.

Adult motel workers and customers are inside. I know several because I’ve been staying there on a writing retreat for a few days. Now, though, I’m supposed to go meet my wife at another hotel. I’m to take a pale blue dress with pale orange trim to my wife. It’s way too big for her, probably five times her width, but a perfect length if she’s six feet tall (but she’s just five four), but she requested it. So I’m carrying this dress around for her.

Discarded candy and candy packages litter the lodge’s deep brown carpeting. I’m incredulous. Laughing and screaming children — no doubt charged by sugar, I think — are running about. I change (don’t know where that was done) into new light gray shorts. They have a bright blue string. I speak with my wife on the telephone and tell her that I’m on my way. Then, first, where’s the dress? It was on a hanger. I set it down and now I don’t see it.

Then I need to urinate. I find a bathroom. Weirdly, it’s at a juncture where one side is a hallway to rooms and the other faces the foyer/waiting area. The two walls are sliding accordion doors which need pulled to and locked. I attempt to do this but each keep sliding open, though I slam them. I then discover there’s a screw lock at the top of the accordion doors; I firmly screw that in place and start to do my business. I see that the screw is turning, becoming undone. Irritated, I screw it tight again. Sure that it’s secure, I step up to the urinal to pee and discover my shorts are in the urinal. They’re getting wet. Exasperation growing, I pull my shorts back. One accordion door has slid open. My shorts are pulled half down, so I’m effectively mooning people. A manager and customer come by to tell me. I answer back with explanations about the doors and how unimpressed I am by these doors. They’re chuckling. The male customer keeps joking, “Your bulls are showing,” by which I realize he means my ass. I joke back that I’m running with the bulls. Yeah, lame.

Although my shorts are wet, I’ve managed to pee and I’m ready to go again. Someone has found the blue and orange dress that I’m taking to my wife and call out, “Does anyone claim this?” I do, I answer, then explain that I’m taking it to my wife at her request. It’s way too big for her, I explain — I think it’s bigger than it was before — but she requested it.

That’s where it all ends.

5

The Shooting/Driving Dream

Back in a sports car for this dream. In this case, the car was a white C5 Corvette convertible.

The top was retracted on the car. I began by getting ready to leave. Some folks were watching me from a viewing stand. Examining how I was to leave, I decided that I would drive my white Corvette down a short chute and up the other side. With enough speed and traction, I should be able to scale the wall on the side, reach the white carpet on top and drive away. After explaining this to others, I deemed this a risky but do-able shortcut. I then did it as a practice run, to prove it could be done.

Satisfied, I stood aside to wait for the time to leave. Enveloped by a sunny day, blessed with blue sky, I was dressed in a white sweater and white pants. Out of the car, I stood around with my arms crossed. The chute, wall, and viewing stand were also white of various degrees from white sand to egg shell and pure white. While I was waiting, confident and smiling, enjoying a refreshing breeze, others approached me. They’d witnessed my shooting, they told me, and were impressed, confirming that I’d shot eleven bullets into eleven pre-existing holes without damaging the holes or missing. This was an earlier competition that I’d won. After accepting their compliments, the time to leave arrived. I drove my car as I’d done before, but didn’t quite reach the white carpet on top. Lacking traction, the car fell back, not like a car would, though, but more like a person, ‘catching’ itself as it fell. It suffered no damage; neither did I.

A man on the viewing stand said with a sniff, “I knew he wouldn’t do it. It just demonstrates that he’s a braggart.” As they turned to leave, I returned in my car, drove down the chute, and completed the departure as planned. None were there to witness it, but I still felt vindicated.

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