Category: Dreams

Another Lamborghini Dream

In this dream, I was taking my Lamborghini Huracán (I think it was a Huracán) in to be painted. It’d acquired some chipping in its travels; I wanted it to look better.

I drove it into the shop — a quick drive through highway traffic — and discussed colors with the staff. Each time a color was mentioned, the car changed colors in the dream: lemon yellow, neon green, bright red, hot orange, merlot, white. No, not a white car! I chose to stay with its original electric blue.

The Lambo shop where I’d taken the car tried selling me a mother-in-law seat. I’d never heard of it. They showed me a red one; it looked like a cross between a booster chair for toddlers and a saddle. The explanation was that it fit over the transmission tunnel to add a temporary seat for a third person. Amused, I declined. My MIL (who is deceased) showed up to declare that she would never sit in that.

I checked into a high rise luxury hotel to wait. When I arrived, Alec Baldwin offered me champagne. He wasn’t drinking any. Alec and I walked about, looking out the windows, chatting and joking around. A young server came by with champagne flutes of apple cider on a silver tray. I was interested but he said, “It’s organic.” I replied, “Oh, I always drink organic.” The server answered, “If you always drink organic, you can have some.”

I accepted the organic apple cider. Alec asked, “You always drink organic?” When I answered, “Yes,” he said, “Then give me the champagne, and I’ll drink that.” I agreed. Then, clowning around, he stuck the champagne bottle up his ass, neck first, so it looked like he was blowing a bottle out of his rear. He thought it was hilarious but I thought it was strange.

They announced that my car was ready. I prepared to leave. The dream ended. Yeah, there’s a lot to unpack in this one.

6

Friday’s Fumblings

  1. The more that I’m writing, the worst that I sleep. I dream more when I’m writing more, too. Yesterday produced a great writing session, a miserable night of sleep, and a flotilla of dreams.
  2. I think that I sleep worst when I’m writing more because more of my brain is engaged in the writing process. The writing is consuming more bandwidth; shutting it down at day’s end is problematic. I keep writing while I’m doing other things, including trying to sleep.
  3. The good news with the novel in progress is that the characters escaped Arsehold at last! How surprised me, but was totally in tone with the rest of the book. This is, of course, when writing is most fun and rewarding.
  4. I always worry about saying too much about writing these days. I don’t want to jinx it when it’s going well, you know? Don’t want to scare off or anger the muses. I never elaborate to others about what I’m writing any more. It’s a novel; it’s meant to be read. I don’t want to explain it; I want people to read it. Sometimes it’s hard to stay true to this as excitement about the story, characters, and concept bubble up and make me happy. I guess I’m an eternal optimist that these stories and novels will come to be in people’s hands someday. Really, though, I write for me and have a good time doing it.
  5. I’m subscribed to HBOMax and enjoying several shows. Nevertheless, I have a complaint about the service. Every time I select it, the first thing that comes up is, “Who is watching?” My name is right there on top. It’s the only name. Below it are options to add other profiles or to add a kid. Seriously? Why must I answer this every friggin’ time? Just accept, I am the one watching, and get on with it. If I want to add someone else, I can go into options or the account, you know. It shouldn’t, I suppose, but it irks me to no end.
  6. COVID-19 vaccinations are increasing among friends and family. I know ten people who have been vaccinated. Three different states – Oregon, Texas, and Pennsylvania – are involved. All who were vaccinated except one were seventy plus years old. The one exception is in her forties and is in the healthcare industry, although she’s in research. Both vaccines have been employed among this small sampling. None have reported significant adverse reactions beyond a desire to nap and mild fevers. Let me know how your vaccination goes, please.
  7. My wife and I are a year apart in age, which adds another spin to our vaxsit. I’m sixty-four and a half. I turn sixty-five in July. I’ll be eligible. But do we want to do it if we can’t do it at the same time? Part of our formula about whether and when is that I have hypertension and she has RA. I suspect that we’ll be included as part of a group that’s fifty years and older later this year, making our one year difference moot.
  8. I mentioned oatmeal in another post, and the huntress commented on oatmeal. Her mother made it very thin. Soupy thin. I think of that as gruel. Yeah, I know it’s not the same. While that’s how my wife eats it, I’m not a fan of it. I make my oat meal so thick, it’s almost a soft cookie.
  9. I grew up putting brown sugar in my oatmeal. Well, it started as white sugar but once I had it with brown sugar, the game was done. I then learned to add raisins and nuts. Now I put all manner of things in my oatmeal. I currently add cranberries and walnuts in my oatmeal, and granola as a topping. I like the contrasting crunchiness and flavor.
  10. When I was first served oatmeal at my wife’s house while in my teens, they surprised me by adding butter and bacon on top. I’d never heard of such a thing! That surprised them, because that’s how they always ate it. Adding bacon and butter to my oatmeal wasn’t something that I adopted. My wife doesn’t add it to her oatmeal, either.
  11. The world seems weirdly calmer with Joe Biden in office as President. Is this my imagination? Am I just reading less news? That doesn’t seem to be the case. Have news outlets shifted how they’ve reported? Perhaps. Or is it that there’s less bad news, or it’s being less reported, or not catching my eye… Maybe we’re just in an intermission in the bad news cycle.
  12. Or maybe it’s some sense of numbing of normalization to bad news. Locally — specifically, in Jackson County, Oregon — COVID-19 positive cases have been declining. We haven’t had triple digits in several days. We’re trending down, but we trended down in November. Then we had a Christmas spike. Meanwhile, people aged 20-29 are the most positive cases here, but those aged fifty and older dominate the hospital beds, inline with what’s been seen elsewhere, and what’s generally expected.
  13. Okay, got my coffee, actually my second cup. No mid-morning treat to go with it. No cookies, pastries, or doughnuts. Nevertheless, time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
7

The Shirt Dream

I’d arrived at an airport wearing a blue Oxford shirt and carrying a briefcase. I was pleased with that shirt; I liked it. I thought the color suited me and I liked my image.

The airport was just a counter and a waiting room with a few chairs. Timing was good as the flight was due to depart shortly. I checked in and sat down to wait. Friends came by, looking for car parts. I tried helping them by telling them where they could find parts. Some part of the conversation prompted me to warn them not to steal my car parts while I was gone. I was only going for one night and would be returning the next day so that little worried me, just an up and back, but I was pleased to be going, looking forward to it.

Then I thought, wait, what am I going to wear tomorrow? I can wear the same jeans and shoes, but I want fresh underwear, a shirt, and socks. Yes, I decided with some further thought, I do. It was twenty minutes until the flight was departing. Fortunately, I lived next door. I hurried over to find the needed clothes. Underwear and socks were immediately found and stuck in the briefcase, but I couldn’t find a shirt. Where were my shirts? They weren’t in the closet, nor my drawers. No shirts were there.

I went to find my wife. “Where are all my shirts?”

She was disinterested. “Did you look in your closet?”

“Yes. Here.” I took her to my closet and showed her. There was clothing but not my shirts.

She looked. “What am I looking at?”

“None of my shirts are in there.” I showed her my drawers. Clothing was in there but not my shirts. “Where are my shirts? Do you put them somewhere else?”

“What shirts do you mean?”

“Any shirt. Do you see any shirts? Where are my dress shirts? Where are my polo shirts? I don’t even have any tee shirts.”

“Why do you want one? What’s wrong with the shirt you have on?”

“I’m flying out. I need a new shirt for tomorrow.” I checked my watch; it was departure time.

I rushed back to the airport next door. The clock on the wall said 9:15. I thought, that can’t be right. If that’s right, the flight hasn’t left. Would they have left without me?

That’s where the dream ended.

I came away from it thinking, don’t get lost worrying about little details. Keep the important issues in mind.

0

A Snowy Military Dream

My first thought was, no, not another dream of being back in the military.

Didn’t start out like that. First, I was simply running along a dirt road. Ahead was my cousin. He’s taller than me but the same age. Seeing him, I pumped up my speed until I caught him. When I did, I realized that I was wearing shorts and a shirt but I was carrying my pants, and I was bare foot. That made me laugh. I told my cousin, “I think I need to put my pants on.” I stopped and put them on.

Then, there I was in my old camouflage battle dress uniform, heading to work. Another new assignment awaited me in the dream. I looked forward to it and was encountering people along the way, happy to see me there and wishing me luck. It was snowing, and the snow began piling up fast, encouraging me to tell others, “The snow is coming down fast. I better go now.”

I rushed through the snow but the going was increasingly difficult as the snow level climbed over my thighs, to my waist. Brilliant white, the snow was beautiful, though cold. Then I was in, at work, meeting my new team, eager to begin work. I was already seeing things that needed to be changed and started directing action, confident in what I was doing.

0

A Freaky Dream

This was a freaky dream, and a dark place — no sky, little light, quite dim. No wind; no sound; just me and an unseen other, who seemed above and behind me.

People were returning. I could see the inside of their heads, but it wasn’t anything graphic. Their heads were empty. What I saw was a stylized version of their skull, minus blood, nerves, brains, muscles, etc.

What I did see in their skulls was an outline. The outline was variously labeled or called, the part of their soul that they wanted to contribute, and the part of them that was searching for forgiveness.

Waves of heads following heads, eyeless, faceless, without bodies but with identities, passed me. At first, briefly, it was all very WTF for me as I looked at people — well, their heads, without their bodies, and without faces — and identified them. They weren’t people I knew, but I immediately and effortlessly identified them. An unseen mentor present helped me put it together as I, smiling and whole (the only one like that in the entire dream) said, “Oh, I see. They’re coming with offerings.” Then I had the hang of it. Identifying those outlined sections, I would estimate and declare, “She’s sharing nine percent of her soul for the effort. He’s giving five percent. This one wants to give it all — is that acceptable?” She was sent elsewhere. Apparently part of a greater effort, I was identifying them so others could collect their soul offerings.

Throwing me off at one point was that some seemed slightly different. After some mental sorting, I discovered, “Oh, she’s not offering any of her soul. She’s asking for forgiveness. But she only wants to be forty-five percent forgiven for what she’s done.” They were rarer. As these were encountered, there was sometimes communications with those people. Some of them apparently had lost their souls. They were directed to somewhere else, by the unseen other; that was not my business.

Despite the dream’s darkness and what seems like a weird subject, I stayed upbeat throughout the dream. I shiver a bit, remembering it, though.

But this dream is why the song, “Psychobabble” by The Alan Parsons Project, ruled my mind this morning.

3

Tuesday’s Theme Song

Sunshine and wind is ruling this Ashland, Oregon, Tuesday morning. The sun rose at 7:39 AM, pushing the air temp up from last night’s low of 29 F to the current 43 F. We’re hoping to hit the mid-fifties before the sun shuts down the day’s operations at 5:10 PM.

“Psychobabble”, a 1982 Alan Parsons Project song, rules the mental musical stream this morning. “Because of dreams?” you ask. Why, yes.

Tell you ’bout a dream that I have every night
Tell you ’bout a Dream that I have every night
It ain’t kodachrome and it isn’t black and white
Take me for a fool if you feel that’s right
Well I’m Never on my own but there’s nobody in sight

I don’t know if I’m scared of the Lightning
Trying to reach me
I can’t turn to the left or the right
I’m too scared to run and I’m too weak to fight
But I don’t Care it’s all psychobabble rap to me

Tell you ’bout a dream that I have every night
It’s in dolby stereo but I never hear it right
Take me for a fool well that’s alright
Well I see the way to go But there isn’t any light

h/t to Songmeanings.com

With COVID-19 pushing out variants with higher transmission rates, hospitals staggering under their loads, and the global death count over two million and still going (400,000 in the U.S. as of this morning), I’d be remiss to not remind you to stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Get a vaccine when it comes your way, too.

Enjoy the music.

0

The Business Dream

I was running some kind of operation. I’m not certain if it was a small business or a unit of some larger organization; that never became clear. The place of business was sprawling and dark. I didn’t have many people working for me, perhaps a dozen. Things were stable and running smoothly, but tight.

A tall white man came to the place, looking for the manager/owner, which was me. He told me that he owned a business down the street. He expected a great deal of business in the coming days. Spillover business would be coming to me; he wanted to ensure that I was sufficiently manned for the rush. I bristled, brushing him off, telling him, we’re fine and it’s not his business. He went away for a bit but returned with the same message, imploring me to listen to him.

So I listened, thinking while I did, that I was already stretched thin. Putting more people on one shift would mean moving them from another and perhaps overtime. I didn’t want to risk overtime and schedule changes if this business wasn’t going to materialize, because I would take a loss.

I asked him, “How many do you think will come here?” He replied, “Forty-eight.” My workers were listening. Forty-eight struck us all as a significant amount. The other man told me that they would probably mostly order smoothies. I asked him more questions: what time of day was this rush expected? Would it be all at once or stretched out? He said that he didn’t have that information, that those were good questions, that he would need to check that and get back to me.

Dream ended.

0

A Sisters-in-law Dream

The sitcom dreams have cycled out. Back to casual dreams, as I categorize them. This night featured a dream with my two sisters-in-law.

First, I’m facilitating a small group of people. I don’t know the group’s objective, but it did involve having to use clever means to bridge a fast-moving creek. A bridge was there but incomplete. I found a stretch of fencing and employed it. When others came, I had to show them what I’d done, laying out the fencing to bridge gaps, hold it up, and yet walk across it. That impressed them.

The older of my two sisters-in-law was there and requested a ride home. She was feeling ill. I wasn’t going that way but then discovered another who was. SIL had a baggie of treats. Some of it looked like white cake with raspberry jelly center layer and a coconut whipped cream top. Looked good! She said that I could have it but it wasn’t what it looked like. I took it and discovered it was hard candy. To which I was, bah, no thanks. She then went to get into a yellow SUV. I raised the rear for her. She put her things in but the woman driver started leaving with the rear still raised. I was incredulous but the woman turned and stopped. A short conversation ensued. Clarification achieved about what was going on, SIL entered the vehicle and it departed.

Act Two found me just completing another facilitating session, at a different location, with another group. I’d procured some treats for them. From where, they asked. We talked about that a bit, with me explaining that there was a candy store in a shopping center out on the highway. They said they’d gone there but didn’t find the treats that I had. I realize that they’d gone to another candy store, and then explained to them that there was a smaller shopping center in the corner of a larger shopping center. I’d gone to the candy store in the smaller shopping center. It helped that I could look out the window and see portions of both places, and put it out to them.

The group, probably two hundred people, arrived and settled in chairs. Although leading it, I was at the back, with my other SIL. I was showing an old movie to the group. My SIL wanted a ride home with me, which I agreed to do. The movie didn’t start as planned. I had to walk up as everyone watched, fix the equipment, return to my seat, and begin the film. Afterward, my SIL and I went to my car, the light blue 1985 Mazda RX-7 that my wife and I had bought new when we’d returned to America. I asked SIL if she minded if I removed the sunroof as it was a nice afternoon. She was okay with that.

The dream ended.

0

Saturday’s Theme Music

Sunrise was 7:40 AM today in Ashland. Sunset is expected at 5:04 PM. Yes, we have ten hours of daylight but zero hours of sunshine expected. Cloud cover is complete on this 47 degree F day. The high is expected to be 55 F. I’m dubious; we didn’t reach our high yesterday.

For no reason that I can uncover, “Hey Soul Sister” by Train (2009) is occupying the brain’s music stream this morning. It’s a light song that features a ukulele. I guess my mind craved something light. That ties in well with my light dreams, which seemed like they were all sitcom moments, almost like a skit comedy television show.

Four days until Joe Biden is sworn in as the forty-sixth POTUS. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and enjoy life as much as you can.

0

The Witchcraft Dream

My sitcom dreams continued last night. In one, I was with a coven of witches. Although we met in a dim environment where wine and munchies were being served, we were all ordinary-looking people in jeans and casual wear. Maybe it was casual day for witches.

I was there to be taught. Most of the dream is too low res for faithful recollection but at one point, I had an epiphany. This was during the curses portion of the training. When they were being revealed to me, I was privy for a moment of curses that’d been used recently. And there was a surprise. I saw the first snap of the Steelers-Brown playoff game, the fiasco on which the Browns scored a defensive touchdown and unleashed a scoring tsunami. “Oh my God. The Steelers were cursed. That’s why they lost them to the Browns. Who cursed them?”

‘Who’ wasn’t revealed, but I laughed about it in my dream. Part of me even speculated, oh, wishful thinking by my subconscious.

Though I’ve thought about it, nothing deeper ever emerged. I have just that one lasting impression: the Steelers were cursed.

0

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