Category: Dreams

The Einstein Dream

Dreamed last night the people were calling me Einstein. This was done to mock me. That pissed me off.

I’d arrived at a large building. Laid out with several floors and many rooms, clutter made moving difficult, and people milling about worsened it.

Walking about, the mess irritated me. Without talking to anyone, I began deciding where things should go and moved stuff around. Noticing, others began picking things up and asking me where to put it.

Soon, everyone was helping. I directed that others create lists of where things went, and put those on the walls. Then I had similar lists made up that told each room’s contents.

Momentum created, things were running themselves when two men approached. The taller of the two said to the other, “This is the Einstein that changed everything, so ask him if you have any questions.”

His snide tone stirred WTF in me. “I’m not Einstein, I’m not smart, I just organized things.”

But the guy kept talking, calling me Einstein.

Miffed, I ignored him and continued with what I was doing. My wife and her niece arrived. I decided to declare some space as ours, and eventually came up with a large suite of empty rooms. After hustling people out and closing the doors, the three of us walked around. As I did, I warmed to the realization that I had ended up with a huge and desirable space with lots of windows and incredible views. I pointed that out to the others.

Agreeing, they shared my excitement, which is where the dream ended.

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The Flying Man Dream

I’m a young boy climbing a slippery dark green hill in the dream. It seems like it’s late in the day.

I’m muddy and grass stained. I hold onto tufts of grass to pull myself forward. The grass breaks again and again. I fall backwards and slide, but catch myself. I’m making progress, but it’s slow, wearying, and tedious.

A shadow passes over me. Engrossed with my climbing, I notice it but don’t look up. When it passes me again, I think, bird. When the shadow goes over me a third time, it seems slower and larger, so I look up.

It’s a man with wings.

My first thought is, “Angel.” He’s grubby and bearded, though, with dirty hair and torn clothing. I decide, “That’s not an angel.”

Wings beating the air, he hovers above me. I think, he shouldn’t be able to do that. His wings aren’t beating fast enough. I wonder if wires hold him up.

He says, “Do you have the map?”

I don’t know what he’s talking about.

He says, “The map. You’re supposed to have the map.” He’s speaking slow and loud. “Do you have it?”

I shake my head. I want to continue climbing the hill.

After watching me some time in a way that makes me itch, he flies away. I resume climbing. Then, thinking, the map, I stop and begin searching my clothes for the map. I recall, yes, I’m supposed to have a map. I remember the flying man and realize that I’m no longer a little boy. I want to turn and look down the hill. The hill seems like a mountain now. I don’t look back because I think I’m still back there, climbing as a little boy. I don’t want to see that.

I search the sky instead, looking for the flying man, trying to catch a glimpse of his shadow.

I think, was I the flying man?

He could’ve looked like me.

Or I looked like him.

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The Brown Man Dream

Dream activity is on the rise again. They’re mostly satisfying and comforting.

One very short dream stands out, though. It’s so short, it could be a fifteen second commercial break. Other features also stand out.

  1. It took place in my current home.
  2. I had it twice in one night.
  3. It was the same both times.
  4. I woke from it both times.

Some qualifying reasoning crowds in.

  1. I may have dreamed it more frequently and not remember it.
  2. It may have been different but my consciousness fashioned it to be the same.

The dream

My living room back door to the patio was open. A tall, young, broad brown man was walking in front of me. We were leaving the house. Although not recognized from life (qualifying it as this life, existence, dimension, plane, realm, etc.), I knew him.

Troubled by a speech impediment, he was talking but I was struggling to understand him. I said, “What?”

Stopping, he answered with exasperation, “I told you already.” He was now on my patio.

Whirling, he added with more force, “I told you already. You’re not listening, you’re not listening.” 

Each time, I awoke thinking, “What am I missing?”

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The Stolen Baby Dream

I was at a white counter buying a ticket for a train trip. As I waited at the counter, I saw a baby. Wrapped up in blue blankets and cap, it looked like a burrito and was only the size of a burrito.

The station was crowded and busy. Having procured my ticket, I realized no one was looking after the baby, so I took him and got on the train.

The baby was sleeping. Getting off at a stop, I set the baby down and ate lunch. The baby awoke, so I fed him. I was thinking about what I’d done. Guilt and shame seized me. What had I done? What did I do? What was I thinking? I needed to return the baby to his family.

But the baby was gone.

I didn’t understand how that was possible. A short, frantic search found him a few feet away in the grass. I gave him water and he went to sleep.

Although I didn’t want to get into trouble, I got onto the train and went back, arriving at the station as a search for the child was underway. I went to the station agent, a black woman. “I found this baby,” I said.

She was happy, telling me they’d be looking for him. I raced away before I could be questioned.

I wanted to buy a bag of candy. Cutting back though the train station, I heard the story about me finding and returning the baby. Avoiding everyone possible, I purchase a large bag of red licorice and left.

Rain was falling and it was dark. Cutting across the traffic, I went up a steep street toward a university. Buses were parked in the streets, blocking the way. Someone asked me where I was going. I replied, “I need to find a place to stop.” He answered, “You can’t park here. This is for school buses.”

Stopping, I fabricated signs with the name of a school on it. Then I found an empty space and placed the signs in it to reserve the space. The same man as before said, “You’re with a school?”

“Yes,” I lied without remorse. I was doing what I needed to do.

 

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Friday Fry-up

  1. Don’t recall any dreams from last night. Odd. Frees up about an hour of time spent thinking about my dreams. Has my dream reservoir gone dry?
  2. Went out on a shopping expedition yesterday, Albertsons and Bi-Mart. Our prey was cat food and fresh fruits and veggies. All saved one was masked up, although several wore their masks with their noses exposed. Do you not get it, man? Yes, I know, there’s psychology, perceptions, fears, and lies at work there. Just ask Herman Caine. Sorry, cheap shot. Ask Rep. Gohmert (Crazy-TX) instead. He’s the latest flag-bearer for the nonsense brigade.
  3. Florida friends tell us that people there don’t act like there’s a pandemic going on except to put on masks to enter stores, because the stores require them. Then I read an article about a study that said, yes, as expected, young adults and teens are working and clubbing, then going home and infecting more vulnerable people. It’s trending up everywhere.
  4. Going to have social-distancing brunch outside at friends’ house this AM. Just the two couples will be present. I’m ambivalent about it. Like them, but do we need the risk? I am resentful, too, as my wife (with perceived mocking tone) said to friend on phone, “Oh, he’s not doing anything.” Hello? Writing? WTF. She then said, “Oh, don’t tell me I’m interfering with your schedule.” I’m sounding bitter, so I’ll stop.
  5. Okay, I am bitter.
  6. Our fire warnings were raised to extreme today. Humidity has dropped to 15% and we’ve had several days of triple digit highs. We’re in a mild trough today, with an overnight low of 58 and a forecast high of 94 for today. Worrisome as dozens of wildfires are already burning.
  7. Stay safe, everyone. Wear masks and distance.
  8. Gonna get some coffee now and try to write like crazy, at least one more time.
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The Arm Repair Dream

I broke my arm on July 7 this year. I’m healing fine but am thwarted by the inconvenience. My dream subconscious response amused me.

I was with other people. My arm was broken and in a white cast. Sitting and chatting with others on a round plaza outside, I was dressed in black pants and shirt, and enjoying myself. I noticed a tall, bald black man working his way through the crowd. Like me, he was dressed in black pants and shirt.

As he closed, our eyes met. I said, “Hi, how’s it going?”

“Pretty good, you?”

“Good, thanks.”

“Good.” He was standing beside me now. “How’s your arm?”

I held it up. “Broken.”

“I know. I’m here to fix it.”

“It’s fixed. It’s healing.”

“How ’bout if I give you a new arm?”

I laughed. 

He grinned. “How ’bout if I give you one of mine?”

“That’s generous of you, but don’t you need it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll grow another.”

“Well, no offense, but your arm is black. I’d have one black arm and one white one.”

“So? It’ll change.” He pulled his arm off and stuck it on my shoulder.

(I’ve thought a lot about this, and I don’t recall him removing my arm first.)

I was standing by then, holding my new arm out. It was white, just like the other one.

Giving me a side look, he said. “You’re always worrying about the wrong things.”

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An Erotic Dream

It began with a friend and a table set for a formal dinner. 

The dream friend was no one I recognize from life. Although all friends in the dream, none are real existence folk, unless we’re getting into alt dimensions and existences. I may know them there. Yeah, maybe the dream was reality bleedover. What a life I must live over there.

I was happy, going to this engagement. A few minutes early, I arrived first. The table was sage green. Set up outside, in a driveway, the fine china, crystals, and linen looked beautiful on this table. Side tables offered food and drink.  The host, a young, well-groomed blonde man, was pleased to see me and took me around, explaining the courses. Then, showing off the wines, he said, “I have a wonderful white wine. Here, taste.” He poured some into crystal stemware.

With him watching and smiling, I sipped. “This is amazing.”

“Isn’t it? For dessert, there’s cherry surprise.” He offered me a spoonful of it.

I was impressed. “Fantastic.”

Others arrived. An announcement was made: “We need to change locations.” The table, with all the food and wine disappeared. Others arrived asked, “Where is everything?’

Knowing exactly where to go, “It’s over here. Come on, follow me.”

I led them around the corner to where the table was. A brunette white woman in a navy skirt and white blouse said, “This looks wonderful. Is there any wine?”

I replied, “Yes, he has a wonderful white.” I poured her a glass.

She sipped as I watched. “Oh, that’s delicious,” she said. “What’s for dessert?”

“Cherry surprise,” I answered, turning away. “I’ll get you some.”

“Okay, I’ll watch your rear.” She squeezed my butt.

Startled, I turned and faced her. She began kissing and feeling me. Then she began undressing me. I was reciprocating. Then —

Well, I’m stopping there.

I’m not that kind of writer.

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A Wistful Dream

Light and airy was how to describe this dream. It was all about a friend, Kev. I’ve not seen him in over twenty years. A military friend, we were assigned together in California (Onizuka). Though he was about ten years younger and assigned to a different unit, we spent a lot of time together during off hours. Our relationship continued after I retired from the military. Then we each moved. I went north and he went east. We are FB friends.

I recognized after thinking about the dream that he’s emblematic of better times, fun times…younger times. There’s nothing in any of this. I’m twenty years older and more aware of my life changes. Fold in the pandemic situation, isolation, and the travel and activity restrictions incurred with the situation. Add a cup of writing frustration. Stir in a tablespoon of malaise because of my broken arm and self-pity. Bake.

In the dream, I found a piece of paper. Reading its contents, I realized that it could only come from Kev and went to find him, which was immediately achieved. We struck it off again as we always had. He was back from a temporary assignment somewhere and filled me in Then, growing sad, he told me childhood stories and began a tragic tale about a female friend. He never finished that story.

It reminded me of so much that’s incomplete.

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The Computer Painting Dream

It began like I was in one of my previous professions. At work, I received a phone call. A customer was having problems with his computer security. Well, those products ere being discontinued and his license keys had expired. Nonetheless, I cut new keys for him, directed him to a site to download them, and walked him through reinstallation. This is a process that would’ve taken some time but in dreamland, it was just a few minutes. Also, my dream office was much nicer and impressive than my real digs. It all seemed so sharp, it could’ve been real time.

The CEO came by. We chatted, and then drifted in opposite directions to new meetings. In my meeting, we were preparing to paint. Friends entered with the tablets. We stretched them out into large electronic canvases Then we painted on the screens. The tablets absorbed it, becoming a malleable medium. My painting was a large portrait of a blond woman in a yellow dress juggling tangerines.

Chinese food was brought in. We stopped to eat and talk about our work. A nearby young woman had been complaining about her finger. I told her to show me. She stuck out a blackened pinky.

“Your blood isn’t flowing,” I said. “Get me a needle and bowl.”

Holding onto her finger, I pricked her and squeezed her finger. Thick, black drops that behaved like mercury fell into the bowl. After doing that for about twenty seconds, her finger was normal.

End dream.

 

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Some Dream Highlights

Such a strange, long dream.

At one point, I let a little pet mouse out of the bathroom into the rain. Yellow walls and a naked yellow light, decrepit age, and a sloping dirt floor defined the bathroom. I didn’t want to let the little mouse out. I knew it was storming and night, unsafe conditions, to me. I didn’t know what the mouse knew. Letting him out with regret, I vowed to check on him.

Then, dreamshift, I was at work, a new job with a familiar feel. A new boss arrived. Others were at work at clusters of desks. I was shown a desk that was to be mine but decided to find and reclaim my previous place, which I then did. I cleaned it, finding old stuff of mine. Sorting it, I decided what to keep and toss. Then, speaking with a female co-worker, I re-oriented my desk to watch the front door. I told her that I wanted to see what was going on. She agreed that was the best way to face.

My mail was delivered. It was a lot but not as much as I expected. Off I went to find the rest. As I began, the office administrator arrived with a large bundle of mail for me.

Now, dreamshift again, I was leaving with my wife to return to our hotel. First, I went back to the yellow bathroom and pulled open the door. The little mouse hurried in from the rain with a grateful look my way.

My wife and I were walking through a large market on the way back to the hotel. Then she said, “I want to get something.” I asked her what. She replied but I couldn’t hear her. She went off, leaving me to mill around.

Friends in the military came by, heading to the marshalling area to deploy. I was happy to see them. Walking with them, I told them about changes in the area because they weren’t aware. Breaking off as they arrived at their destination, I joined up with my wife. She was still shopping. Like before, I asked her what she was after. She replied but I couldn’t hear her. She went off, leaving me with a commiserating shop owner. I decided to continue to the hotel instead of waiting.

Dream end.

 

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