Category: Dreams

The Survey Dream

I found myself out with a crowd of people on a sunny day at a county fair. Rides were going on as music played. People were laughing, eating, and drinking. My wife and friends were with me. As we perused the fairgrounds, a man accosted us. “Would we be willing to participate in a survey? It’s twenty-five questions long. We’ll go over results later. You’ll be rewarded with tokens for rides, a free dinner, and drinks in another part of the fair later in the day.” Well, young and interested in free food and drinks and ride tokens, we agreed. A large group of us were given the surveys to complete and pencils. The survey form was a narrow piece of paper which turned out to be a small booklet. As my wife and I worked on it, we rode the Ferris Wheel. Multi-tasking at its finest, right?

The ride stopped at the top. I was writing an essay in answer to one question when I dropped my survey. This upset me because I was almost done. I could see exactly where it was on the ground. I also saw the man who’d given us the survey. Calling to him, I explained that I had dropped my survey and pointed out where it was. Could he get it for me?

No problem. He made his way through the crowd and around the rides to where I pointed. By the time he reached it, too much paper had accumulated there for him to find it. No problem. We finished our ride. When we reached the ground, I asked him and requested another survey. Well, he shouldn’t…but he did. I began working feverishly on finishing it in time.

Meanwhile, we’d moved toward the place where we would go over the results and get our free meal and drinks. The meal was a barbecue and I could smell it while the site was like an old television western set with picnic tables in a corral alongside a bunk house

Damn if I didn’t again lose my survey. This time, the wind took it into the corral. A split rail fence kept me from going after it immediately as the wind pushed it across dusty grounds. The survey man was with me when it happened. Laughing, I explained what’d happened and requested another survey. He was against this. Although he appreciated my enthusiasm, he was concerned that my answers would no longer be in the spirit of the survey because I was answering them so many times. I disagreed with his observation. That’s where the dream ended.

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A Dream Variety

A wide selection of remembered dreams fill me this morning. Two acquired prominent positions so I’ll relate them.

The first was about a foot race. Younger, I was gathered along with about twenty other young men. I’d hazard that we were in our late teens/early twenties. We’d just run qualifying races that were one lap (don’t know the distance). Now we were to run the real race of five laps. For some reason, a staggered start was employed. Basically, I was required to wait for my name to be called, then put on my shoes and start running.

Young women of about the same age were in bleachers to watch and cheer us on. Hearing my name, I slammed on black running shoes and took off. I ran hard without breathing hard or breaking a sweat, passing competitors with impressive ease. Finishing, I was surprised, thinking, “Already? That was it?” Thinking that I’d won, or at least finished in the top three – hard to say because the staggered stop meant that we were being judged on time, not track position — I sought the results but couldn’t find anyone willing to give official results.

The next dream found me visiting the parents of childhood friends. I was a young adult; they were of the age they were when I knew them. I snuck into their brick two story house because I’d heard they had a boat in their basement, and I wanted to see their boat. Getting down there, I discovered, yes, they’d constructed a large sail boat in their basement. Admiring its white and blue hull, I circled the boat, astonished by their accomplishment, and perplexed about why they’d build a boat in their basement.

I realized I needed to get home. It was already late evening. The sun had set and I had several miles to go. I didn’t want to walk in the dark. Going upstairs, I found friends from my current life. I asked if I could get a ride with them. One answered, “Yeah, I have my car. You can ride with us.” His car, I knew, was a dark green 1970 Ford LTD. “But you need to wait,” he told me. “It’ll just be a little longer, then we’ll be done.” They were playing with Excel spreadsheets. I began playing with them, too, but didn’t know what I was looking at, and became bored. That’s when the dream ended.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Buongiorno. We have arrived at Tuesday, March 16, 2016. The skyball came over the horizon at 7:21 AM and will hide beyond the horizon at 7:18 PM in Ashland, giving us a solid twelve of daylight. Times may vary where you live.

Winter continues its comeback campaign, with temperatures freezing us at 29 degrees F last night. While it’s 32 right now, we expect it to get up to 52 later on. Hope that’s a warmer 52 than than the 54 yesterday. Fronted by a stiff wind, fortified by a dour gray sky, that 54 would’ve put some frostbite on a brass monkey. Hope holds today because blue sky, sunshine, and optimism.

Van Halen’s 1983 song, “Jump”, commandeered the mental music stream this AM. Why for, don’t know; might be dream related, where anything goes. The song was released when I was still living and serving in Okinawa, Japan, with the U.S. Air Force. It entered our party rotation but suffered in comparison with the offerings from ZZ Top, Toto, Boston, Yes, etc., that our group preferred, music befitting three aging white men hanging on to their final pieces of youth.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax.

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A Dream of Losing Things

Honestly, it disturbed. A resolution that satisfied me never emerged, and I’m uncomfortable with what I seem to be telling myself.

I began by losing my direction. Nominally happy, I was in one place and needed to go to another. A sprawling, multi-leveled place, it was well-populated by like travelers going from one place to another. The site seemed to be a mixed-use center for business, retail, and residences, but it was huge, about the size of my small town (six square miles), and at least five levels, perhaps more, and busy. While going outside to go from one area/level to another was possible, I mostly stayed within.

Leaving one place, I was hurrying along. But where was I going? I thought I knew but then thought, oh, shouldn’t I be going the other way? Retracing my steps didn’t work; apparently I took a wrong time. Now I didn’t know where I was to go. Others were there and talking to them gave me some clues. But, just as I was getting underway, I inexplicably took off one of my shoes. Chocolate brown suede, I dropped one shoe, gasping with disappointment as it went straight down a square cutout and down several levels. Before I could continue on, I’d need to descend to retrieve my shoe.

All kinds of problems entered my mind about this, like, how was I going to go down at least two levels and find the shoe? What if someone took it away before I reached it? I tried shouting down for others’ attention, thinking someone might be able to throw my shoe back up to me. No one responded. With a rueful grin, I accepted that I’d need to find my way down there.

Meanwhile, I removed my other shoe, thinking it’d be more comfortable to be walking in my socks rather than with one shoe. So, carrying my remaining brown suede shoe, I searched for the nearest steps, elevator, whatever, down. As I went, I lost my other shoe. Now panicked, other worries struck. Did I have my laptop? I think I left my laptop behind. Panic exploding, I started checking my cases. I had two over my shoulders, one gray and one black. Both were laptop cases; no laptop in either. I was carrying empty cases.

Rushing back to my origins, I hunted the room where I’d been, hoping that I’d left my laptop there. I was somehow turned around, though, and ended up lost in somewhere entirely new. Finding a map and talking to people, I learned that I was far from where I’d begun and had little idea how to get back to where I was. Retracing my steps would be ideal but I was clueless.

There it was: I’d lost my shoes, my laptop, and my way. I was in a place where I didn’t know with little idea of where to go.

Classic anxiety dream.

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Back with Jeff Dream

Jeff and I were together. We ran together back on Okinawa. Had a good time. Haven’t seen him since then, so that’s thirty-seven years ago.

In this dream, Jeff and I were civilians but tasked with working on what seemed to be military plans. We were each given fat folders of information. A global map dominated a wall. A few older men sat along the edges of the room. I was ready to get to work, eager for the task, but others reminded us that it’s classified and we need to be aware of our environment. Yes, the room was open on one end and other people, who might not have the clearance, were walking and milling. Most were female.

We were told there were a few training meetings about protecting information and ethics that we needed to immediately attend. Carrying our enormous folders, we headed for the meeting rooms with others. Getting there required climbing a wall. That seemed to be optional but I decided I was going to do it. A woman noticed me going up and asked, “Who’s that going up? Why, that’s Michael. Good for you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Shaped like the letter U, covered in red, yellow, or green rubber, the holds were loose. Many fell out when you grabbed them. I had one arm pinning my folder to my body. With the other arm and hand, I pulled myself, support myself and then find holds for my feet. When I reached the top, I threw the folder up, then used both arms to leverage myself up the final few four to five feet. The top was flat. Getting down required me to jump down three large steps. Picking up my folder, I descended and hurried on.

The rooms were already almost full. I wasn’t certain which one to go to. A woman told me where to go. I saw Jeff by the front so I went to that room. Only two seats remained at the front. I took one of them by the podium. Jeff then gave a short talk. When it finished, we were given a beer break. I went over with others and asked someone at the front of the line to bring me a beer. They did that. I drank some of it before I was told it was time to go to the next meeting. Still carrying my folder, I headed for the assigned room. When I reached it, I was told, no, go work on your new assignment. Another man then showed me where to go. I entered a room where Jeff was waiting. We sat down and began to work.

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A Coffee Shop Dream

A pleasant and sunny day had emerged. In shorts, I was out walking through some thin woods and arrived at a stone and wood building I knew. Pausing on some steps, I cleaned off my shoes. Cat hair was just coating them. As another couple — strangers — passed, I briefly attempted to explain to them that I was cleaning cat hair off my shoes — but why would it matter to them? Stopping, sitting down, I removed my shoes to better clean them. At last, I continued, in socks, shoes in hand, up into the building.

This was a cozy book store-coffee shop combo. I visited the book store section first. A white male with glasses was behind the counter. I told him I was looking for fiction books. He asked for more details. I then asked, “Do you have a McCall’s? It lists every fiction book ever written.” He went off in search of, then returned with a red book with white lettering.

I moved to the coffee shop. It was a tight place — large counter dominating one corner, a waste can and several small, round tables taking up the rest of maybe a twelve by twelve foot space — and busy. I took a tall chair between two male customers at the counter. The woman behind me was a pale, slender redhead. She said, “Everyone was here dancing last night, Michael. You should have come. You would’ve had a good time.”

I thought I recognized her. She knew me but I didn’t know her name. Stalling, I replied, “Who was everyone?” She began reciting names as I wondered what her name was. Then a large man threw the remains of a scone and hit me in the chest. He began a string of earnest apologies. I realized that he’d been trying to get the scone into the trash can behind me but it was so tight and crowded, he’d instead hit me. It bothered me not at all. I took the scone and turn to put it into the trash.

I struggled. The trash can was carved out of a thick and twisted tree trunk. Two holes were there. An upper one was for recycle and the lower was for the waste. I figured this out along with other people who were attempting to use the trash. We all talked it through out loud. Then, scone dropped in trash, the dream ended.

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The Thirteenth Killer Dream

Although the dream title may sound threatening, this was a ‘fun’ dream. I returned again to ‘episodic’ format for dreams last night. That’s the expression I use when the dream is more like a television or movie experience. Although I still starred, action went on before other cameras, where I wasn’t in those scenes.

Overview: We were in a sunny, urban area that reminded me of the Silicon Valley-SF Bay. I was a reporter, chasing a story about a serial killer. My team and I had gone down the highway to investigate some details on a recent murder. After gathering clues, we headed back up an Interstate to work other angles. The highway was white concrete with the standard markers dividing it into four lanes. Ahead was a road block. The police were stopping everyone and asking for identification.

Back in another dream segment, two reporters, both male, had noticed that the 13th of the upcoming month had significance in the string of murders. Talking about it, the two reporters agreed to meet on that day.

Back on the highway, my car windows were down. The wind was blowing papers around. I was in a rental car, trying to find my rental agreement and identification. A state trooper approached my car. I stopped my car and offered him papers. They weren’t what he was looking for. The traffic had moved ahead. He told me to pull forward to the end of the traffic and stop again. I did as told, still looking for my identification while he stood at the window, waiting. He waved other cars around me as I continued dumping papers out of my briefcase and going through the center console, pockets, and the glove box, looking for identification, talking to the officer as I did this, telling him who I was and where I was going. He was responding that he didn’t care, he just wanted my identification.

Two cars passing me had my co-workers in them. Slowing, windows down, they called out, wanting to know if I was okay. I called back to them that I was as the trooper ordered them to go on.

Over in the other story line, we — the viewers — realized that one reporter was the serial killer. Investigating himself was a front to learn information from the police and other reporters, and throw us all off. The second reporter, apparently unaware of this, was making ready to meet the killer.

I finally found my identification and presented it to the officer. As he looked it over and we spoke, I had an epiphany and realized that a reporter could be the serial killer. That surprised and concerned me so much that I simultaneously pulled out my cell to call one of my team to talk to them while also starting to drive away. Both caused an irritated reaction by the trooper. Accusing me of trying to flee, he stepped back, put a hand on his gun, and ordered me out of my car. As I tried convincing him that I’d made an innocent mistake, apologizing profusely all the while, the screen split and we witnessed the serial killer stalking the other reporter. I realized the case had a supernatural element to it. The significance of the thirteenth was that he was the thirteenth killer; he’d been inhabiting other bodies. I wanted to chase that aspect.

The dream ended.

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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.

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