Category: Dreams

Sitcom Dreams

On Wednesday, I mentioned a couple of my recent dreams to my wife. She shook her head; “You’re on another plan with those dreams. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Yeah, I often have that feeling about my dreams, but many of them reassure and inspire me. Not so the dreams of Wednesday and Thursday nights. Of the silly variety, I call them my sitcom dreams. Along with what I call my ‘episodic adventure dreams’, the sitcom dreams happen regularly. There’s always a string of them. Although they amuse me, I rarely post about them.

For example, one dream last night had me attempting to feed two cats. The cats in question were Jade and Quinn. Quinn died two years ago after being with us for twelve years. Jade came to us on Okinawa and was with us for twenty-one years. Both were sweethearts, although Jade was furiously intelligent and willful.

In the dream, I was trying to feed these two in my backyard. I had a food bowl set up for them but they were crowding me, giving me the impression they were hungry. Naturally, I talked to them about it.

“Why are you asking me for food. There’s plenty of food in your bowl. Come on, I’ll” I led through the yard’s lush green grass back to their food bowl. “See?” I pointed. They hurried to their food bowl, sniffing, then turned to me in question. Puzzled, I went to the food bowl. Closer to it, I discovered that what I thought was cat kibble was sandwich wedges. Checking them out with surprise, I discovered they were stale.

“Sorry,” I told the cats. “Let me clean this up and then I’ll give you real food.”

As I was cleaning, putting the stale sandwiches to one side, a man and his family — neighbors — passed by, watching me as they went. I heard the father say to the rest, “He is burying the cats’ feces.” I smiled when I heard him but didn’t clarify what was going on.

That’s where that one ended. See what I mean? There were six or seven of these sort of dreams, about cars, technology, cats, and houses. While I take humor from them, I do acquire some deeper insights about myself from the sitcom dreams. I might be rationalizing what happens but I like it. Still, I’m looking forward to a return my normal dream programming.

I can always use reassuring.

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A Writing Conference Dream

Fun dream. Happy, satisfying, and rewarding.

I was at a huge writing conference somewhere. Fair weather and a seaside location favored us. Though staying onsite, I’d rented a silver Ford Mustang to run around.

We were there to write novels. The intriguing aspect was that after I’d finished my novel, the other participants were able to live it to test its authenticity. They announced themselves impressed with the results, which pleased me. Meanwhile, I was mentoring a young writer. He’d not been able to write a novel but did turn out a short story. I read and critiqued it for him. It was a good story, and I told him that I thought he could sell it.

I’d also been helping a young foreign student who was present. He couldn’t speak much English. I’d ended up in the role of helping him navigate the conference. In thanks, he came to me and offered me, “Noelle.” I replied, “Noelle,” with confusion. ‘Noelle’ turned out to be a chocolate candy. I accepted it with thanks and laughter, and then ate it with gusto. He also later gave me a small ceramic basket, exquisitely done. I don’t know where it came from. I accepted it but with protests that he didn’t need to be giving me all of these gifts. It’d been a pleasure helping him. Yet, he returned one more time to give me another “Noelle.” By the way, that spelling comes from the dream. I actually think it was a subtitle.

In high spirits, I prepared to leave. The maid service had packed everything up for me. I’d also been given another ceramic basket as a gift by someone else. Since I had two, I offered it to the woman. She was tremendously flattered and embarrassed, insisting that she couldn’t take it because it was too beautiful, and I’d already tipped her and had done too much for her. After a few minutes of going back and forth, I finally won.

Then it was to the car to leave. I offered others rides but none were going with me, so I left in the Mustang to drive to the airport, alone but happy.

*Photo is for illustration purposes only. Wasn’t exactly like this in the dream; it was better.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Today is a repeat. Used this song a few years ago, but it’s a satisfying song and worthy of being the theme music today.

“Think” by Aretha Franklin came out in 1968. While I love that version, the Blues Brothers version (1980) is a tad stronger. According to Wikipedia, the thing about the movie version is that Aretha had to lip sync the song for the movie. Aretha isn’t used to lip syncing so a number of takes were required. The movie clip also features people no longer with us – John Belushi, Matt ‘Guitar’ Murphy, Carolyn Franklin, and Margaret Branch. Technology lets us enjoy them again.

The song arrived in me this morning while I was thinking about dreams. But after reflecting on its words, it’s a good song for this era of lies and insurrection. Think. Think about what you’re trying to do. Think about the consequences. Apparently, many of the insurrectionists didn’t think about the consequences of sedition, and didn’t take it well when they were arrested and put on no-fly lists. Should’ve thought about it. Of course, it starts with the outgoing Prez, who does little thinking about what’s going on beyond the little circle of his ego.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and enjoy the music! Cheers

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Three Parts of Cilia: A Dream

Cilia is a friend. Retired from one profession, she’s now a professor and department head at a local university. I know her through my wife. She’s mostly her friend.

First, there was Cilia and the book. I was outside with a group, walking on a sidewalk downtown, when I encountered Cilia. She had a book. Tremendously old and maroon, with one of those warped cloth covers with its title in faded gold print, it was about almost four inches thick and six inches square. I’d heard of this old book. When she showed it to me, I asked with delight, “May I see it?” After she passed it over, I opened the book. The pages inside were very thin. Many were separated from the spine and loose. But there were also metal toys embedded in the book: a steam train engine, car, artillery piece, truck, along with others that I can’t remember. These simple pieces were painted with silver, black, red, green, and yellow enamel paint.

As everyone was looking at it, talking, they tried to turn pages or touch the toys. These was causing the book to come apart, forcing me to tell everyone to be careful before finally ordering everyone to stop touching it. As I returned things to their places and carefully closed the book to hand it to Cilia, noticed she seemed very upset. As I apologized, she departed, tight-lipped.

In the second dream with Cilia, I stopped by her house. She and her husband had friends over for dinner. I didn’t want to impose so I began to leave. Her husband came out and gave me a huge steak, telling me that it was extra, and since I was already there, I might as well have it. I sat down out in the living room and ate it with my hands as the rest continued eating in the dining room. I could hear parts of their conversation but nothing really concerning me. The huge steak was fantastic, cooked just right. As I finished it, eating aroun fatty parts, Cilia came out to ask me if I wanted to take the steak with me if I couldn’t finish it, then was surprised that it was already gone.

The third part of my Cilia dream had Cilia coming out as gay. She had a female partner in addition to her male husband. I was really surprised. Beyond that, she had striking green eye shadow on, very contrary to her usual reserved appearance, with a matching green shirt, with her hair cut in a Dorothy Hamil wedge, and dark red, both quite different from her actual appearance.

We were in her house. A dozen others were there, all women. I was the only male. The gathering had broken into smaller groups. People were talking about math or literature. A woman to my right was asking questions about sines and cosines. Someone noticed a painted ceramic plate hanging on the wall. The plate had four handles. I said, “Is that a volksmarching award?” Rising, I went over and confirmed, yes, it had the usual markings of a volksmarch on it, as Cilia confirmed that she used to volksmarch. I did, too, I told her.

Someone took the plate off the wall to look at it. One handle broke off. As I took the plate from that woman, along with the handle, I told Cilia, “Oh, no, your plate broke.” As I was speaking, a second handle broke off. While we reacted to that, the third handle dropped off. I said, “Cilia, the handles fell off your plate. We can probably glue them back on, but there’s only one left.” Then the fourth fell off in my hand, breaking into two pieces. As I gawked at that, I said, “Never mind. That one broke, too.”

Per the plan, we then left the house to go have something to eat. Then, like a play whose acts had changed, we were returning. Although I’d had a good time, I felt it was time to leave. Cilia though, presented me with two small glasses, declaring, “An aperitif for you, Michael.” It was pale green. I took the glasses, questioning, “Two?” As she replied, “Yes,” I asked, “Aren’t aperitifs served before the meal?” But I drank them, then prepared to take my leave. First, though, I’d apparently borrowed a light brown leather belt from her with a metal tip. I took that off to give to her. Then, also, I’d borrowed a matching light brown leather jacket from her which I’d been wearing.

That’s where the Cilia dreams ended.

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Maggots in My Hair – A Dream

I was inside somewhere. After shaking my head, I looked down and discovered maggots on the counter. With a few seconds of thought, reconnecting what’d just taken place, I realized they must have been in my hair.

Horrified, I rushed to a mirror and confirmed, yes, there were maggots in my hair. I struggled to understand how they got there: from a cat sleeping by my head maybe? Then I rushed to tell my wife. Occupied with something else, she didn’t take notice. Dismissing her, I hurried to the bathroom to shower and wash my hair. When I checked the mirror again, all the maggots were gone. They’d fallen out onto the floor and counter. I started collecting them to dispose of them while promising myself, shower, wash your hair, hurry.

Dream end.

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The Positive Energy Dream

Many vivid dreams were experienced and recorded last night, enough that I decided to take them in groups.

Most memorable was the positive energy dream, which is the second-shortest dream remembered from the night. It featured three young naked women of color and me. We were always in bed, not doing anything but touching and talking. The third segment was sharpest in recall.

The twenty-year-old woman, with caramel skin like those little wrapped, square chews, was softly rounded and sweet. She’d been telling me about her life and hopes. Telling her to turn over so I could do something, she presented her naked back to me. I ran my thumbnail along her spine from the top. When I reached her small, I stopped and pressed my index finger lightly against her while saying, “I just opened you up so positive energy can flow into you. It’s going to keep flowing into you, helping you in your life.”

That’s where the dream ended. Every time I recalled that sequence, I feel a new surge of energy and feel refreshed. It’s a wild sensation.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

I’ve been feeling a change in energy for some months. We’ll see whether this woo-woo sensation of being inordinately optimistic and hopeful is founded in reality or the first stages of dementia or senility. After a particularly rousing dream set, the sensations were sharper today, leading to lyrics from the Spacehog song, “In the Meantime”.

And in the end, we shall achieve in time
The thing they call divine
When all the stars will smile
For me
When all is well and well is all for all
And forever after
Maybe in the meantime wait and see

h/t to Genius.com

In the meantime, my mind proceeded to bring the song fully to stream. I hope you enjoy it and find a worthy choice as theme music for this Tuesday morning in 2021. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and vaccinate. Cheers

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A Building Dream

I was in a busy, busy place. The people there were all familiar in the dream and yet nobody from this life. Most of us, including me, were working on computers, engaged in some mutual project. For my role, I realized that we were trying to establish a structure. Some other element was attempting to steal our work to undermine our goals. Realizing that, I had an epiphany. Working faster, I established a domain, “In my city”, set up protections and rights, and established myself as administrator. I attempted to communicate what I was doing to everyone else, but it was so noisy and busy that my information was lost in the wash. Feeling that I was right but ahead of the rest, I kept at it.

Then, someone else suddenly exclaimed, “Oh, no, the opposition has already taken that domain. They already have it.” As moans and groans blew across the room, I said, “No. That’s not them. I have it. I created the domain. Don’t worry.”

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Three Mini-Dreams

The dreams had variety tonight. The essence of each:

  1. In a paddleboat on smooth water, circling a larger boat.
  2. Turned on by a gorgeous young naked woman.
  3. Tracking and registering the results of clinical vaccine trials.

The paddleboat one was shortest. It was also funny to me; I’d dreamed the other night that I was battling muddy water, a not-infrequent dream experience for me, but didn’t have any sort of water conveyance. Alone, I was in one of those little boats that you propel by cycling, as if you’re on a bicycle. Instead of turning wheels on ground, paddles through water move you on. It’s white and blue, in such good shape that it could be new. The water surface is a gorgeous dark indigo glass on a blue-blessed day. Sunshine and silence abound. A green tree line provides a distant horizon.

Paddling along without issue, I knew in the dream where I was going although on awakening, I don’t have any idea what the mission was. In the dream, I came alongside a structure. It’d arrive out of nowhere. I started paddling along the structure. White and red, it could have been a large, sprawling boat. Down by the water line, its structure offered a zigzagging series of platforms. As I took them in, I grasped that I needed to dock at one of them. Then I could just climb to where I wanted.

The young woman dream aroused me. First, I walked into a room where I found a young woman changing clothes. A big room, it was essentially empty and bland. Young, dusky, and voluptuous, the young woman’s thick hair hung straight down her back. She was totally naked. I was chagrinned to have come in on her. She was matter-of-fact. My wife was present and seemed indifferent to my arrival.

Later, my wife and I are in bed in our jammies. I’m spooning her. We say at the same time, “You’re so warm.” Feeling my erection pressing against her, she asked with an amused look over her shoulder, “Really?” Laughing, I answer, “Really.”

I’m then in bed with a friend, again in jammies. I’m spooning him. We both say, “You’re so warm,” and then laugh.

I once again walk into the room where the young woman has become naked while changing clothes. She’s alone. I smile at her and act flustered. She calls me on walking in on her, accusing me of being transparent and deliberate. I feebly try denying it, but can’t pull that off.

The final dream finds me in a secure building at the day’s end. It’s a cluttered and dark place. Secure filing cabinets with dials to open them are all over. Like others there, I’m getting ready to eave for the day when some shipments come in.

Two are for us. They’re vials. One set of vials have been used in clinical trials while the other are unused. Everything are numbered by lots. Both need to be signed into logs, which involves re-opening the safes. A woman, my boss, and I volunteer to do it. After the others leave, I tell her that I can do it all. Hesitating, she asks, “Are you sure?” “Yes,” I answer, so she leaves.

The vials are red, with a sharp needle attached to an end. As I handle the returned products, I accidently scratch my finger with one. Or did I? Even as I’m worrying, I’m not sure it happened. I’m also concerned about which set of vials it is. At first, I think that it was the used vials, which increases my anxiety. Then I investigate and conclude, no, that were the unused vials. Then, checking numbers again, I decide that it was the used ones, and then decide, no, they were the unused ones. I’m not sure at all but, again, there’s no real sign that I actually did anything to myself.

While I’m worrying and fretting, I’ve been working, opening the safes, making the entries in the logs, and securing the vials. But then, weirdly, I don’t know how to document that I opened the safes. I think I know what I’m supposed to do but can’t find the forms. I’m rifling through files, trying to find them. A friendly co-worker comes back in. I tell him that I can’t find the right forms. He starts searching; he can’t find them, either. As he’s looking, I’m babbling on about how I used to know this, and then recall more details. The co-worker has become irritated because he was just being friendly. Now he’s involved in a problem. Then I remember, oh, we’ve been looking inside the files when they’re attached to the outside of the safes, of course. Of course! How can you annotate what time you’ve closed the safe when the safe is already closed? How can it be verified as closed and locked if it’s not on the outside.

Others have returned to work and are asking what we’re doing. I shrug them off. By now, the co-worker is angry and embarrassed because he was looking inside. It makes him look like he doesn’t know what he was doing.

Dreams end.

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Watery Dreams

Another night of crazy dreams. In many scenes, I was engaged in traversing muddy water. Sometimes I was in a car, other times I was swimming, but there were times when I was also walking. The water was consistently muddy, but was creeks, rivers, or floods. Past the water, the dream settings varied from streets to fields, but were mostly streets. I never felt threatened or disturbed, although I sometimes became lost and had to backtrack. My attitude was more of, “Oh, here I go again, well, let’s get this done with.” In fact, I seemed buoyant. (Yeah, sorry for that word choice. Clearly I’m not, right?)

I was mostly alone during these scenes. My youngest sister showed up twice, a cousin showed up once, and friends showed up a few times. Between coping with the fast-moving and often rising water, I would do other things: eat, buy a new car, look at a new house, and visit with people, talking about their jobs or their love lives. A strange mix. If you take the position that everyone and everything in the dream represents some aspect of me, then me mind was trying to address everything! After yesterday’s events in Washington, D.C., it’s not really a surprising flow of dreams. The water is muddy and it’s rising, but I’m okay, I’m telling myself.

Hope the rest of you are okay, too, though I have my doubts about the people invested in the Trump reality. They don’t seem okay.

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