After a series of tremendously affirming dreams, I awoke with “You’re All I Need to Get By” (1968) by Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell. It’s a softly melodic song, gentle, tranquil, a good rainy Sunday song. Please remember, stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Cheers
A Packed Dream
I sorted out all the elements as a catalyst to remembering this convoluted nocturnal offering.
- Racing cars from the late 1960s and early 1970s.
- The mother of a childhood friend in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
- The television show Glee.
- My sports car that I drove in the 1990s.
- Co-workers from the early 2000s.
- A book store and change.
- The Vietnam war and the Huey gunship.
- Walking and driving.
- An embarrassing bathroom incident featuring an elderly Robert Duvall doppelganger.
- Sending a coded message.
It was a lot to take in. I dreamed this between 6 AM and 7:45, times that I was awoken to let Youngblood (Papi) out and in again. I was the same age, in my forties, throughout the dream.
Let’s begin the madness.
Started in traffic. I was in my black 1993 RX-7 R1. Highway was a undulating, rolling affair of six lanes filled with cars. It could have been El Camino Real along the Peninsula.
I saw bright cars up ahead. After some seconds of watching them accelerate and race through traffic, I decided that those were race cars. Downshifting, I accelerated to catch them, then I passed one; it was a 1966 Ford GT. Catching up with others, I saw a trio of Ford GT40s, then several Porsche 908s, a couple Ferraris, Porsche 917s in Gulf colors, and finally, Mark Donahue’s fabled Sunoco blue Porsche 917/30. Flabbergasted, I speculated, why are all these vintage race cars racing in traffic on a public road? Before I could fully catch them, a traffic light stopped me.
I was no longer in my car, but standing with a crowd of people, waiting for the light to change. It was a sunny day. When the light changed, we started walking forward. We were going up a large hill, paved, six lanes wide (three in each direction). A woman beside me said, “How do they expect us to walk up these hills when we’re not warned about them?” I thought that an odd complaint. Looking back, I realized I was having no problem with the hill, but everyone else was, and all were lagging far behind. Shrugging that off, I kept going.
Almost at the hill top, I turned into my destination, a shopping center. There was a book store that I wanted to visit. Entering, I hurried upstairs and then turned in what I remembered as the way. But it was changed; packed with books and bookshelves, tables and chairs, there were so many people and books that it was hard walking through. I gingerly managed to get through, then turned another corner, and found myself in a deadend.
I heard my name being called. As I wondered why anyone would be calling my name, I looked down and realized that my name was written on the tee shirt I wore. A young woman caught up with me. I recognized her as a co-worker from a company I worked at in the 2000s in Palo Alto.
She was asking me for information about a book. She knew some of the people I used to work with flew Huey Gunships in Vietnam. That baffled me; she didn’t work with any of those people. Also, those people were too young to have flown Hueys in Vietnam. A third man (black) came up, trying also to get through the book store. The three of us decided that there was only one door to take, so we would take it to reach the book store section that we wanted.
As we were about to leave, a black man hailed us. Identifying himself as the store manager, he told us that we couldn’t enter until people had left, because the store was too crowded. While we were talking to him, I looked out the window. Realizing where I was, I decided I would leave the store and approach the part I wanted from the outside. I took off to do so.
Now I was in a bathroom. I needed a bowel movement, so I copped a squat. People were watching me. One resembled an elderly Robert Duvall. Staring at me, he said, “Are you really going to do that here?” Thinking I was on a toilet, I replied, “Sure, why not?”
Then I realized that I was peeing on the floor. As I tried addressing that, I discovered that I was shitting in a urinal.
No, no, no! I was hugely embarrassed and recognized that I made an enormous mess. Well, hopping off the urinal, I found some paper towels and starting cleaning. Robert Duvall mocked me. “You’re going to clean this whole thing?” “Yes,” I answered.
My friends began helping me. As I cleaned piss off the upper walls, I realized that there was no way that I’d made all of this mess. Robert Duvall said the same. But I decided to keep cleaning until it was all clean, which I did with friends’ help. Robert Duvall grudgingly congratulated me on doing the right thing. I felt happy about that. Then my friends and I left.
I was out in a busy, busy place. I realized that a high-ranking military officer was coming here, but it wasn’t safe for him. I had a code that I could use to warn him off, but how would I get the code to him? It had to be surreptitious due to the situation.
I saw that some others were on a Zoom call. He was on that Zoom call, too, on the other end! I could write the code on a card or piece of paper and hold it up. As I worked, putting that all together, I did another assessment. Deciding that the threat had passed and the warning overcome by events, I left.
I was at my friend’s house in Penn Hills, PA. He wasn’t there, but his father was. He was coming down the steps as I was going up. I needed to wash my car. I crept into the house, a little concerned that I didn’t belong there, that I was invading someone’s private space. Upstairs, I found a bucket and soap and started filling the bucket with water at the sink. My friend’s mother (Lois) entered. The kitchen was messy, and another person was in there. I apologized for being there, stammering my way through that. She shrugged. “That’s okay. We’re making smoothies.” She held up two large glasses. Then she talked to the other person, asking him if they’d DVR’d Glee.
That threw me off. Lois had died in the eighties (cancer). Glee didn’t exist when she was alive. Neither did DVRs.
Leaving, I returned to my car (still my black RX-7), and then left to reach the bookstore.
Yeah, the end.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Got “Abracadabra” by the Steve Miller Band (1982) stuck in my head. I awoke with the song in my head after a dream. After thinking about the dream, I returned to sleep and dreaming, and then awoke with it again in my head. Then…well, one more time. By then it was almost six thirty.
I don’t know why this song came with those dreams. One dream was about my cat, Tucker. The other two were about playing games. Nothing earthshaking, although the Tucker dream had him being forced to do something. Experts thought they knew what Tucker would do in response to stimuli. I was like, “Nope, you don’t know Tucker.” The big black and white floof ball was becoming annoyed by another cat in the dream, and not distracted by the stimuli. Recognizing the signs, I intervened right before he was ready to pounce on the other animal. When Tucker pounces, it’s not to play.
Hope you enjoy the song and it brings back memories, as it did for me. Remember, stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Cheers
A Writing Dream
First, my wife and I were wrestling in bed, and then playing with a kitten. Yeah, that’s all there was.
Next, I’m at work. It’s clear that I’ve returned to work. Although it’s not anywhere recognizable, many people were welcoming me back, and my assigned work space was one I’d previously used. My old passcode also worked: 3871. Well, great, cool!
I was also given a new location to work. I went over and checked it out. As I was, a man came by. I recognized him as a great writer. He stopped to look at what was on my screen. Then he moved on without saying a word.
His presence excited me. I returned to my original work station, grabbed that computer and brought it to my new location. The great writer was still ambling about, looking at everyone’s screen. I put my latest up, then stood back, hoping he’d come by and give me some encouragement.
I laughed after I awoke and thought about; just hanging around, waiting for the great writer to come by.
A Brief Dream Trio
Three short dream fragments stayed in the mental coil this morning.
Recollection of the first is short: my wife found something on the floor. Holding it up, she realized it was a cat’s tooth. We went to check the cats. Dream end.
A little longer one is up next. I was at a large outside gathering. We were seated at picnic tables. Weirdly, we were baking pizzas on the picnic tables. I called for one, put it behind me, and baked it for a while. When it was ready, I got some for myself and passed some to others. Then I began baking another, and forgot about it. When I remembered it, I turned to get it. It was dark but still edible. A man said, “You have a pizza baking there behind you?” I nodded. He said, “Why didn’t you say something? Some of us may have wanted some.” I protested, “I did,” but he turned away.
A former commander was then on as guest speaker. While he was talking, I walked around, quietly cleaning up. After a period, I needed a restroom. I went to the first one I found. Thinking it was available, I unzipped and pulled out my pecker. But, there was someone in there and the bathroom had no walls. A little kid saw me and told his parents, “I saw his penis dangling.” I went on to another restroom.
In the third short dream, I was coaching a team. I don’t know what sport. Our record was 16-8. A woman asked about it. I said, “We have eight losses and sixteen wins.” An older man (who reminded me of Malcolm McDowell) said, “Don’t say that. Always say the wins first. Always accent the positive by putting it first. You have sixteen wins and eight losses.
Dream end.
Thursday’s Theme Music
Yes, this song was featured as theme music back in 2016. Four years later, it seems more appropriate.
“Riders on the Storm” by the Doors was released in 1971. I was ninth grade. The baseline, lyrics, and keyboard mesmerized me. I later ended up taking a philosophy in pop culture class in Japan where this song and its line, “Into this word we’re thrown,” was discussed. Ah, good times.
Seems like we’re riding a storm of uncertainty now as much as ever. The song came to me in the middle of the night, when I surfaced out of a dream. While I was reflecting on the dream, the song just rose up as a soft, subtle background. Later, we were out shopping just after sunrise. The song came to me again as I stepped out of the store into the silent parking lot and faced the sun illuminated the valley, mountains, and valley to the north. After I was home, I listened to it.
It’s an evocative tune. Hope you enjoy it. Remember, stay positive, test negative, and wear your mask. Cheers
Monday’s Theme Music
I awoke in the early hours with a cat tapping at the pet door and a dream lingering in my head. After peeing (my bladder said, “Well, since you’re awake,”) and drinking some water (because I’d just peed, obviously, right?), I returned to bed (after letting the cat back in because it was cold outside). In the moments before falling asleep, I thought about the dream I’d left. In that time, too, my brain started singing, “When you close your eyes and go to sleep, everything about you is a mystery.”
It took a few moments of sleep-fogged thinking to identify it as The Romantics song, “Talking in your Sleep”. I thought it was released sometime in the early 1980s, which led me on a mental chase of other facts from that era to pin it down. (Like, where was I living when I heard that song? Okinawa?)
I looked it up this morning because I needed to know (1983). So, that’s the music for today.
Stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Cheers
Such Screwy Dreams
My dreams left me laughing and shaking my head. One involved food and family; the second was about military and ID (again) (but with changes).
In the first, my stepfather was there. ‘He and I didn’t get along’ is a loaded understatement. He was a large part of the unhappiest part of my life.
I knew that history in my dream, and even wondered, what’s he doing here. But I tried making nice, and he was being nice. My wife was there (she’d never met him), along with a couple of my sisters, and my mother.
First, weirdly, we — my wife and I — set up a television connection with the net to watch porn. Really. The plan wasn’t mine in the dream, and left me scratching my head, but I did as told. Then, lo, my stepfather and family sat down and turned on that porn. They were all laughing, asking, what’s that?
It was a flat screen TV. Distracting them, I spun it around so they couldn’t see the screw. Then I ran to the bedroom. Lifting the bedskirt, I located switches to change what they could see on the television. Then I dashed back, and turned the television back to them.
As they watched television, my wife and I prepared food for ourselves in the other room. I was having a Philly cheese steak sandwich; she was having a veggie version.
We went outside to eat. The food was on a plate. The house was on a busy corner. Some people passing asked if they could have a sandwich, offering to pay for it. My wife said, “Yes,” while I was like, “What? Don’t we need permits?” She was certain that we didn’t. Well, my wife and I started making and selling the sandwiches. Sales were great. We were happy, and sold them until we ran out of supplies.
The dream ended as my wife laughed, counted cash, and joked about doing it again.
The next dream took on a military spin. We wife and I were in temporary quarters, leaving a base. I think we may have been leaving the military. Well, we’re in bed when the door bangs open. Two guys walk in. I leap out of bed and rush across the room to confront them. I’m not big; they’re a good six inches taller and thirty pounds heavier. But this is the military and I’m a senior NCO, and that’s the power I’m using. I brace them, telling them that this is my room and they have no business being there. They’re disagreeing, saying the rules changed. I haven’t heard about changes, so I don’t give a shit, you know?
But I tell my wife what they told me, that there’s been unspecified changes that shifts our roles. Then I go out to learn more. After a few minutes, I return and tell her, I’ve confirmed what I was told, that it’s changed. Sitting down, we discuss the changes and agree that they were overdue, but that they don’t really matter, because we were done, suggesting we were giving up our military ID cards.
Then we leave with our baggage, and the dream ends.
In both dreams, I notice that it’s about changes. In the first, my relationship with my stepfather changed. Then my wife and I were making food for ourselves, but changed and started making and selling food. In the military dream, of course, there were changes that seem to reference the structure and our roles.
Then again, my dreams are often about change these days.
A Lost Cat & Planting Trees Dreams
The first dream found me in a hotel. My wife was with me in one of those sprawling single-story hotels, where we had a suite. We were watching a friend’s cat for him while he was away. Gray and white, the cat’s name was Naruba. It was a friendly and relaxed animal. He wanted out of the room. I let him out. He disappeared from sight.
Now I was worried; I had to find him. I searched and searched but it was fruitless. By the time my friend returned, I’d given up. But, just as I was about to confess that his cat was gone, the cat reappeared. My friend saw him first. While I was relieved the cat was there, I didn’t think it was the same cat. This one seemed much younger than his cat. My buddy was happy, though, so I let it go.
In the next dream, I was with a few other friends. We were up in the hills off the side of a narrow road. I wasn’t certain what was going on. One friend was looking for something. After a bit of conversation, I realized that he was looking for land. I thought he wanted to buy some land.
We found a place. I recommended it to him. He agreed that it was a good place. Then, though, he brought out a box of plants and planted a tree. He explained that he’d been planting trees for years, wherever he could. I was impressed, and thought, I should do that, too. It was so clever of him.
That’s where it ended.
A Three Cliché Dream
My subconscious and its dream offerings gave me a laugh this morning. As I emptied the dishwasher, I thought about them, and realized three things emerged from the dreams.
- I’m carrying baggage from my broken arm.
- I’m starting anew again.
- I need to clean out the cobwebs.
Clichés, am I right? Here’s how it unfolded.
In the beginning… I was preparing to travel. I had a large gray garment bag, which was a problem because there was a small car, being shared with others. I can fold my bag, I thought. But I couldn’t, because…my arm.
Yes, dream logic. It made sense in the dream. Perhaps I’ve lost grasp of some details that made the logic fit. In the dream, though, I thought, yes, I can fold the bag if I can protect my arm. From somewhere (the air?) I found a coil of clear, semi-rigid plastic. I could wrap that around my arm and protect it.
It took a few tries with the coil, but it was finally done. I folded my bag and put it into the back of the hatchback, off we went. Stops ensued. More people joined us. Some left us. I didn’t know any of them. We were just travelers going a common way.
My bag again became an issue. An older woman was trying to fit luggage into the car. My bag dominated. Everything else couldn’t. I told her, “No, just fold it in half.” She wouldn’t. I again went through finding the clear plastic coil, putting it over my arm, covering my arm to my elbow over my shirt, and then folding the bag in half.
I was now at work. I was the new man, not certain of where to sit or my role. But they were expecting me. I was warmly greeted. A boss (a white male) came by to show me where to sit but then was vague on what I was to do. It was something about writing on a computer. We seemed to be a sort of publishing organization.
I went off, doing dream things. When I came back, my stuff was moved. Minor annoyed (and worried, because maybe this was a sign that hiring me was a mistake), I found my stuff, then sought the boss, looking for an assignment. “Just type,” he told me. “Just write.”
About what? I asked back, but he waved me away and went off to do other things. I wandered, asking others what they’re working on but everyone was busy typing. I returned to my desk.
Everything was moved again. That worried me anew. An assistant came by. “Oh, you’re over here, now. We put you over here with like people.”
Following her, I grumbled, “Really? I’ve been moved three times? I haven’t even be here that long.” She laughed. “But three times is a charm, isn’t it?” Then she showed me my new space. It was much larger, cleaner, and…well, newer, than the other places. Not that they’d been bad, but this was a huge improvement.
Pleased, I sat down. My co-workers greeted me, which is where that segment ended.
I was next at another work office. As part of our routine, we were to play at mock fencing. That’s about the only way I can summarize it. I understood it in the dream — it was a long-standing tradition — but outside of the dream context, it makes little sense. I was searching for the right weapon to use in a duel. Pointed sticks were available, but I thought that would hurt others. I tried fashioning a foil out of tin, but it was flimsy and failed. Someone suggested I use a pencil. I wouldn’t, as I worried about lead breaking off under someone’s skin.
The boss (a white woman) needed to leave for an appointment. She had clients with her. I wanted to duel her. She was willing but we couldn’t find suitable weapons, and the clients were there. I began helping her with the clients, just retrieving stuff as she called it out. During this process, I came across areas thick with spider webs and cobwebs. As clients were there, I surreptitiously cleaned them up. Looking more sharply, I realized that such webs were all over the place. I decided, as soon as the clients leave, I was going around and cleaning them all away.
The end.
Michael Seidel, writer 