Category: Dreams

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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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Star Dust Dream

I was with familiar folks, all male. Outside, we were drinking beer, laughing, enjoying ourselves immensely. In the middle of this, we suddenly embark on a conversation about creation and evolution. Abruptly, it becomes a Socratic style learning session. Information is given; questions are asked. The last question was, “What’s the first part that begins to develop after conception?”

I shouted out, “The brain!”

My friend laughed. “No.”

We then talked about fertilization and conception. Conversation drifted to star dust.

Sitting in shadows, outside on a sunny day, a beer on the table in front of me, I leaned back and held up a finger. On the tip, I thought I saw golden star dust brightly shining.

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A Dream of Flying Home

I was back flying on an aircraft in last night’s dream. This dream found me going home.

I was finishing my military service, ending my career, and going home. Wearing my dress blues, what we used to call the Class A service uniform, I didn’t have shoes and socks on. I’d taken them off for comfort.

It was a working flight. Loose ends were being tied up. The aircraft was memorable. Quite roomy, I had a small office on it, with a desk by a window and a few chairs. Happy and engaged, people came to me to learn how I’d done something. The flight was spent answering questions, showing people paperwork, and helping others understand.

When I arrived at my destination, I said good-byes to people, then went to put on my shoes and socks. I couldn’t find my socks! Shrugging it off, I put on my Capps high-gloss Oxfords and tied them tight. Queuing to leave the aircraft, I then found my socks. Well, I wasn’t going to put them on now. I was already in line. People might say something, I thought. Then, so what if they did? Technically, I was out of uniform. Technically, I didn’t care. Technically, if someone really wanted to make a stink that caused me to care, I could stop and put my socks on.

But I wasn’t worried. I didn’t care.

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The Porthole Dream

My late mother-in-law dominated one of my dreams last night.

I was on her ship. To my knowledge, this woman never owned a boat, never mind a large ship.

While I’d been with her, visiting, I was preparing to leave. Outside the ship, I was aware that it was heavily storming. Large waves rocked the ship. Winds howled. Sheets of rain fell from black iron skies.

I needed to go, to catch my flight, to go home. But first, well, there was the matter of my laundry. Done washing, I needed to put them into the dryer. I couldn’t open the dryer, though.

Men came to help. I gathered through conversations that they were my mother-in-law’s brothers. Appreciating the assistance, I managed to get the wet clothing into the dryer. Now I needed to get myself ready. Needed to shower and shave.

I went into the bathroom. A porthole was open. Ocean water came nearly to the porthole, terrifying me. “This should be closed,” I said to myself. I felt that I couldn’t close it without permission.

Leaving the bathroom with a backward look at the porthole, I encountered my mother-in-law in the hallway. “I was thinking, Mike.” (She’d always called Mike, her and her husband, although I went by Michael with my wife and the world.) “There’s no reason for you to go to the airport to catch your flight. You can catch it here.”

Although some part of my brain in the dream protested, I’m sorry, but we’re on a ship, that’s not possible, I said, “Are you sure? Is that possible?”

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother at all. It’ll save you time.” She walked off, as was her habit, as she finished her comment.

“Great,” I answered, then went after her. “There’s a porthole open in my bathroom. I think it needs to be closed. The water is about to come in. We could get flooded.”

“Okay, go ahead and close it,” she replied.

Happily, I returned to the bathroom and closed the porthole. I felt much better about that.

“Your flight is almost here,” one of the brothers told me.

I wasn’t ready. “Okay,” I called back. After rushing through my shower and shaving, I dressed while hurrying out to empty my clothes from the dryer. They needed to be packed. I had my suitcase at hand. I was thinking that the flight was early. I was thinking, how can the aircraft land on ship? Was it going to land on the sea? I was thinking, how can it land in this weather? I was thinking, I want to pack my clothes neatly but I need to get them into the suitcase and get going. I was thinking, there’s so much to do, and I feel so rushed. I was thinking, maybe I shouldn’t go now.

Shirt not properly tucked in, wet hair uncombed, suitcase open, clothes half in it, I declared myself ready to go.

Dream end.

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Refreshing Change of Dreams

Two other men and I were going on trips. Dressed in business suits with ties, we traveled to the airport in a limo. One would be going on with me while the third was going elsewhere.

We arrived, checked in, and was informed, “You’ve been upgraded to first class.”

Well, that was certainly a pleasant surprise. My friends and I inquired why. The agent didn’t know, so we travelers accepted the news and celebrated.

Then, I was notified that I’d won ten million dollars in a lottery.

Ten million! Wow. Well, it’d be less than that after taxes. Still, there was cause for celebration, right?

I didn’t remember entering a lottery. No matter. I made immediate arrangements to feed some children I’d read about. The man doing the paperwork with me was very snarky about it. I was cold and snarky back.

Then it was onto the plane. As I settled into my ultra-plush first-class seat, I dwelled in fantasies about what changes I could make to my life.

Dream end.

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The Screwing Up Dream

Dreams of screwing up have beset my nights. For example, last night had me helping to build houses in the first dream, just simple wooden structures. I wasn’t in charge, but had joined the project after it was long underway. We were building on a high steppe rich with emerald green grass. The steppe ended on a cliff. Below in a a hazy blue distance were landmarks from a city. Beyond, an ocean breathed with rolling swells. Peaceful and comforting, I was happy to be in those surroundings, proud to be part of that project.

But, I suggested a change to where we put the houses. Then I acted on it. Only framing had been done (bizarrely, we seemed to be building without foundations, which is probably a clue for me), and after I moved the houses, they all began collapsing, like slow motion dominos falling over onto one another. I realized the last would fall over the cliff, so I rushed over to keep it up before that happened. So there I was, holding up part of a house frame as I teetered on a precipice. End dream.

The anxieties continued in the next dream. This had something to do about testing and storing blood. I was involved in helping assess how doctors did this. Yes, it’s all a little surreal. Each little package of blood had the doctor’s name, a date, and a patient’s number. Details of my role were vague but again, I decided I could change it into something better and proceeded to screw up. My wife then informed me as I was screwing up. I laughed her off, then realized as I walked off that she was right. By trying to improve it, I’d cut open the bag, not in a way that was acceptable, but some other way. All the blood was then gone. Alarmed by what I’d done, I kept trying to figure out a way to fix it, then started complaining about the system. It was the system that was at fault.

Trying to hide my error, I walked away from everyone and everything. No answer was coming to me, though. I then thought, this is a dream, just go back in time and stop myself from doing that. I laughed at that in the dream, and then reconsidered the bag. It had been blood; now it was full, but it was water. A doctor came by. Tall, lean, and dark, he gave me a contemptuous look. I thought he was going to say something and readied myself to reply, but he kept walking. Saved, I thought, walking quickly away.

At this point, I was alone in large, white room. Bright with light, rows of small desks that were as white as the wall, ceiling and floors precisely filled the room. Stopping at one, I worked on the bag. I was surprised to discover, yes, it was water, and the bag wasn’t cut. All the information was intact; there wasn’t a problem. “What have been worrying about,” I asked myself, looking around. Nothing was wrong. It had not been blood in the bag, but water. But, I thought, how did I mistake such completely different substances? One was clear, the other red. And why were doctors collecting bags of water from patients? I then realized that I was completely mistaken about the nature of the bags, that these were prepared to be given to the patients.

Dream end.

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