Category: Dreams

Wednesday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme music came after reviewing my dreams. Empowering dreams, I enjoyed them, in part because they seemed fuller and more coherent than the last few sleeps’ fragile fragments. As I thought about them and the almost one eighty shift in lucidity, I thought, the dream police must’ve stepped in, which gave me a chuckle.

Like that, the brain said, “Oh, “The Dream Police” by Cheap Trick,” and began playing it like it was Alexa gone nuts.

So, I went with it. 1979: a good year to be young and getting older. Amusing video. I don’t think I’ve heard this song in a looonnnggg time.

 

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Busy Dreams

So much happened in dreams last night. Putting it all together…well, I probably failed that. But, here goes.

My wife and I were in a new car, a small vehicle, made of gold. I was driving, and the car pleased me. I was very happy with my new acquisition.

My wife was in the passenger seat and there were two people in the back. We were going through a tunnel, perhaps exiting a parking complex. She told me that I’d missed the turn. I couldn’t turn the car around, so I backed up. Not able to see where I was going, I hit a support pillar with the car. This upset me, but we kept going. When I finally parked, I checked the bumper for damage. There was none.

After parking, my wife and a friend were going shopping. I decided to check into a hotel. But first, I spoke with Jerry.

I haven’t seen Jerry since 1977. We were stationed together at Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio. Smoking a cigarette (as he often did back then), he was laughing and talking about how he’d changed. “I used to be a survivalist. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that I had.”

Laughing, I said, “I find that hard to believe, knowing you.”

Dead serious, he replied, “You don’t know me. You think you do, but you don’t.”

I went into my hotel room, got into bed and went to sleep. A while later, noises in the room awoke me. It was Jerry’s wife. She said, “Hey, do you need anything, baby?”

I said, “I need you. Get into bed with me.”

She said, “No.”

Shrugging, I sat up in bed. Her long dark hair was now a short bob. Looking right, I saw a pile of hair on the floor. “Have you been in here cutting your hair?”

“Yes.”

“While I was sleeping?”

“Of course.”

My wife rushed through the room. I realized that she was going shopping again.

I dressed and hurried to work. When I arrived, I found hundreds of people milling around, waiting for something to start. The man in charge gave me several lists. “There are forty possibilities in here. You need to match them up from the different sources so that we have the information we need.”

Looking at the lists, I saw that many were printouts, but some were newspaper articles. Some had circles in red markers, but others were highlighted in orange. Another man came up to help me.

“Can you do it?” the man in charge asked.

“Yes.” I was confident that I could. He left, and I got busy. It soon became apparent that the information was more difficult to sort and mass than I realized. He expected results for forty but there were hundreds or thousands of possibilities. I struggled with finding a scalable way to do it.

The man with me said, “It can’t be done.”

“Yes, it can,” I replied.

The man in charge came up. “How’s it coming? Are you almost done?”

“No,” my helper said. “Far from it. I don’t think it can be done.” He and the man in charge argued.

I said, “I can do it. Give me time and space.”

The man in charge said, “Okay, we’re counting on you.”

End of dreams.

 

 

 

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Dream Snippets

So many diverse dream elements last night. Here’s two of five. It’s too exhausting and time-consuming to recount more. These left the greatest impression. First, the game show.

A flood had wrecked a place. I felt it could be salvaged. Seeing how it could be done, I convinced the network to give me a chance to execute.

Things immediately started going wrong but I kept persevering. I ended up with two basketball hoops at one end. Two young women were assisting. I had a nerf basketball. Then I started attempting explaining what was supposed to happen. As that’s going on, it was announced time’s up. You’re going live.

I wasn’t supposed to be on the air, but there I was, throwing the nerf ball and falling miserably to make a basket. I kept throwing the ball to the hoop; it fell well short. I then decided to bank it off the backboard. That fell well short.

“It can’t be done,” I said. “We need a different ball.”

One assistant replied, “We’ve been doing it with this ball.” Another man stepped up, threw the ball and made a basket.

Everyone was laughing at me. Embarrassment and frustration flooded me. The network said, “Hey, people are watching you. They’re enjoying this. You have a hit.”

The next segment took me into the kitchen. My wife and I were cooking. She put a pot on the stove and turned on the fire. The pot immediately boiled over. Calling my wife, I removed the pot from the stove and turned off the flame. The yellow flame didn’t go off, but spread, going over other food and dishes on the counter, horrifying me. Then the flame went out.

My wife came in. I told her what’d happened but she made a comment, took the pot, announced, “That’s done,” and left, telling me to turn something else on.

I reached for the stove. Yellow flames sprang up and spread. I withdrew my hand. The flames went out. Nothing was burning; it was just flames.

Outside now, in a new section, my wife, friends, and others were talking. My wife had won something and had a large clear bag of stuff. “I don’t know what’s in it,” she said. I suggest we open it and separate it.

We found car parts. Toilet cistern repair kits (which looked nothing like it should, but I knew what it was). I was suspicious, thinking that several piles had been mixed together, but didn’t voice that. My wife took what she wanted and tossed the rest.

A friend came by, complaining that another friend had lost some things and telling me where the other friend said he’d left them. As he went off, I called after him, “Was it car parts and toilet parts?”

The other friend kept walking away. The dream ended.

 

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Another Car Dream

Such a pleasant and satisfying dream last night. Nothing special to it.

A friend had built a car. Although it resembled a circa 1969 Porsche 911S, he’d built that body on a new 991 chassis. Its engine was a turbocharged 4.5 liter flat six. Fat tired but inconspicuous, it was a dainty jewel.

I was buying it from him, Gene, for next to nothing. The only thing that bothered me was its color, bright red. For the rest of the dream, it was a silvery slate blue that reflected everything in its high gleam.

Opening the hood, I checked out the engine bay. He’d done professional work, and the car’s finish was like Porsche had built it. I was extremely pleased.

After acquiring it, I picked up two friends. We were meeting two other friends at a restaurant and going to a concert. The car’s power and grace as I drove stunned me. It was so smooth and controlled, far beyond anything that I’d ever driven. The car’s quiet, unencumbered speed impressed my passengers.

Arriving at the restaurant, we met the other two. I checked out their cars. One was driving a current generation Lexus. The other drove an Infiniti. That pleased me. As I told the friends I’d picked up, there was five of us. We wanted to take one car to make it all easier, and couldn’t go in my new Porsche.

The restaurant was an expensive and charming place sitting by itself in a green field with a parking lot. As it’d just opened for dinner, we were the only customers. We sat down and ordered a light dinner. I had some paperwork from the car. Essentially, the builder had typed up an owner’s manual. I read through it as we ate.

Then, time to go, we headed out to the cars. Plans were made; one car was being left at the restaurant.  I was taking my car home, just up the road. We’d take the third car, the Lexus, to the concert.

Newer Porsches were now in the parking lot. None noticed my gem. I was experimenting with the accelerator, checking its responsiveness. The engine barked and snarled like a racing car, instantly answering the call for power with revs as I trundled it past the other parked cars. At one point, I had to stop to permit another to back out, which I did willingly, feeling cheerful and accommodating toward others.

Then we were exiting, turning left, going up a highway on a hill and around a curve. I quickly raced past others. The tach was redlined at 10,200, very high for a street car. The turbo was indicated on the tach as coming on at 8,200, which was also high. I remembered reading that, and also talking to the builder. He’d made it that high because he didn’t want to be dealing with turbo lag. With four and a half liters, it had power to do anything needed without the turbos.

I wanted to open the turbos and feel it. I was being cautious, though, intimidated by the power that I knew it had. I’d driven turbocharged vehicles and knew that the turbo could catch you out. You had to be aware when you used it.

I also knew that I needed to go home because that’s where the others were expecting me. Then I remembered, shit, I’d left my paperwork back at the restaurant.

Executing a u-turn, I returned to the restaurant. The dining room was now filled. Someone was at the table we’d used but I could see the paperwork. I told the hostess the issue and headed across to the table. By the time I arrived, the paperwork was gone. I addressed the people, a young man and woman there, and asked them about the paperwork. They hadn’t seen it.

Turning around, I realized that I was at the wrong table. The right one was behind me. And there was the paperwork. A businessman had just picked it up and told me that he was just moving it, it was there when he’d arrived. At my request, he handed it to me.

The dream ended.

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Two Cities Underwater Dream

Two cities had been built underwater. No, not in a dome. They were undersea but in the open.

No one yet lived in them. Shiny and new, rich with skyscrapers, monorails, and modern architecture, multiple parks and roller-coasters were also visible. Finished as mirror images, only one would exist when it was all completed. The final stage of completion was set to begin.

I was excited. I wanted to live in those cities. I marveled at the water. Amazingly pristine, I could see forever. To live in one of those cities, whichever one was chosen, seemed special. Come on, I urged, finish the city. Open it.

Enrico Colantoni, an actor, was sent out to finish the process. He was to match pieces, like a giant jigsaw, to one of the cities. That would bring it to life and banish the other one. Then people would be allowed to enter it. Fingers crossed that I could enter.

As Colantoni picked up the first huge piece and studied it (a red roller-coaster on tracks at an amusement part), talking to himself, everyone (including me) was pounding on glass windows and yelling advice at him, telling him where to put the piece, something that we were able to clearly see out there, from a distance.

A heavy, repetitive thud interrupted the proceedings. As all paused to wonder what that was, a muffled voice said, “What?”

Much more sharply, a second voice said, “It’s over. He’s called it off.”

“What? muffled voice answered.

“He changed his mind. Stop.”

Disappointment swept me. Who changed their mind? What was going on?

The dream ended.

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What A Dream

To begin, I’ve parked my car on a road by a small, rocky but sandy beach. Others are there. Someone says, “Look.” They’re pointing.

I turn and look. A large whale is being washed up onto the shore. A man is down there trying to wrestle it into place, an impossible idea. But past that, huge waves are rising and rushing toward us.

I say, “Oh my god, look at those waves.”

The first guy says, “That’s what I was talking about.”

I reply, “Run,” and start running along the beach.

Enormous waves crash behind us. Water is swirling back there. We’ve escaped. We’re on the move and still in danger. I’m with two others, males. They’re friends and younger. “We gotta go,” I say. “We need to get away from here.”

We find a rusted and repainted (gray and white) panel van. I start it and drive away. We drive and drive through the night. The van has a bench seat and no rear seats. It’s empty. The gas gauge is broken. We’re driving parallel to the ocean. Huge waves are crashing. The sea is rising. We need to go until we can turn inland.

I feel like we need gas. Finding a station open, we stop. I have forty dollars. That’s all the money between us. We’re hungry. But — I have a credit card. I talk to the attendant. I’m surprised but relieved he was open. Yes, but not for much longer, he tells me. We’re probably his last customers. I ask if I can pay with a credit card. Yes, he replies, leading me to another man. He’ll take care of us.

We eat and buy supplies, paying with gas. We’re exhausted. We talk about sleeping in the back of the van. Then, I have an idea: let’s go back in time so we can warn people. My friends like that, so that’s what we do.

We arrive at an air force base. I’m in uniform. One of the guys wants to attend a service. He’d died before; this service was for him. He wanted a chance to say good-bye to himself.

So we agree to wait for him while this happens. As I’m standing there, a U.S. flag is ceremoniously folded and handed it to me. I accept it with proper protocol and then give it to another. That was my part.

We go into a briefing room. It’s more like a theater. An officer friend is briefing about a weapon failure. I know what happened because it’d already happened. I push to the front and tell them what happened and convince them that I know the future because I came back from them. I warn them about the growing storm and the need to take action.

The dream ends.

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The Aliens Dream

It’s a frustrating dream, at once very clear but not understood. I dreamed it twice.

The first time I dreamed it, paperwork was being hunted for me. As Fred discovered it and brought it to me, I had my pecker out and was looking for somewhere to pee. Taking a hint, I woke up and went to the bathroom.

While awake, I reflected on the bizarre dream. People had been telling me that they’re been a day when aliens had contacted some. I was incredulous. It was like a big, open secret among these people.

When I returned to sleep, I dreamed it again.

I was at a friend’s home, having a beer. Somehow a conversation took place where they revealed there was a day when aliens contacted them. They’d documented it. Three primary people emerged: Pat, a person who I used to work with; Fred, father of a childhood friend; and Greta Thunberg. There was also a larger group of people that I knew but who remained vague in the dream.

Pat was a big, jovial smart guy who worked in Intel for the USAF and the NSA and DIA. Fred, my friend’s father, was also a big guy, quiet and solemn, who worked for U.S. Steel. You’re probably familiar with Greta. I’ve never her, but have seen and read about her.

A fourth person was the one telling me about it. He had a chart on graph paper showing when the aliens contacted him and what happened as a result – weather and stock market changes. There’d been a twenty-four hour period when the aliens were with humans. Most humans were completely ignorant about it.

Fred, coming in to give me another beer and ask if I was hungry, confirmed what the other guy said. Fred had also been contacted. He had written about it and had a graph like the first guy. I asked if I could see it. He agreed.

This kept going like this. More people came forward with the information, telling me the same thing. Then Pat dropped the bombshell: the aliens had contacted Greta.

I was eating and drinking beer as all of this was taking place. I wanted more information. Someone gave me an information packet that they’d put together. I asked, “Has anyone put together and contacted an entire list of who’d been involved with the aliens?”

Either no one could or no one would answer the question. As I put information together for myself, I discovered a pink sheet of paper. I noticed that everyone had charted their own involvement in a green sheet of graph paper; the pink sheet of paper on top of the package in my hand was a summary.

I sat everyone down. Twenty-two people were present. We were in a large commercial dining room with round tables. A friend, Shari, had joined us. She confirmed that she’d been contacted. I read everyone the pink summary. I can’t remember a thing that it said but all agreed that it was right. I asked if anyone had ever compiled the graphs and analyzed them; no, they all agreed.

That floored me. I decided I would do that. But, the place was closing; everyone needed to leave. They all began departing. Pat was at a table. He was making calls to find more information. I went in and used the restroom. When I returned, I began singing Joe Cocker’s cover of “She Came In Through The Bathroom Window”. Pat, sitting at a table alone, sang it with me. We sang the verses, “Didn’t anybody tell her? Didn’t anybody see? Sunday’s on the phone to Monday. Tuesday’s on the phone to me.”

I left the building. It was a long, two-story place like a U.S. motel. My car, a dark blue sedan, was parked on the street. I was in a happy mood as I walked across the unpaved parking lot and looked at the gathering dusk.

The dream ended.

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A Food Dream

Don’t recall what was going on earlier in this dream – it’s all hazy and splintered – but I reached a point where I sat down to eat. 

It was dark, with strings of colored lights overhead. I was seated at a long table with many other people. (I seemed to know them all but didn’t recognize anyone from my life.) Someone set a plate down in front of me. On it was this huge, loaded cheeseburger, along with a salad, and some onion rings. Laughing and talking with others, I took a big bite. OMG, it was so good. I was very happy.

Then, in a dream shift, eating was over. I was in another room, my wife beside me. Sitting in a little conversation nook, we were chatting with friends (no one from my rea world). My wife and I jumped up and suggested that we take their girls to get ice cream. The friends were surprised. They asked their daughters if they wanted to go. The little girls declined.

My wife and I went out and got ice cream. Sitting down on a brick wall in sunshine, we began eating, but we were disappointed that the little girls didn’t come. As I was eating my berry-flavored ice cream, I saw one of the little girls. She was inside, watching through a window. I went back in and asked her if she wanted ice cream.

The dream ended.

I was ravenous when I woke up. Still am.

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A Warning, Accommodations, and A Confrontation

In this dream, I was with others, all men, people that I knew in the dream, but no one from my current life. We were in a yellow two story building. No other details about the building, people, or our purpose surfaced.

In some sort of power position, but not in charge, I was listening to a man describe what he was doing to set up a warning system. It amounted to, he had set up someone to be a look-out; that look-out would notify another, who would then light a warning beacon. It seemed to be weather related.

I asked, “You have established an alternative for him in case he’s not available, haven’t you?” I was pretty insistent about it. The man wouldn’t answer me. I knew that he didn’t have alternatives identified but didn’t want to admit it. I felt it as a severe shortcoming and gave the guy in charge a look of admonishment, because he needed to do something about this.

Next, I was told about arrangements that’d been made. We were accommodating two other men. They wanted to get together but there wasn’t anywhere private for them. The downstairs porch had been closed in, I was informed, so they could meet down there.

I went down to check it out. The two men, a black, and a white blond guy, both in short-sleeved shirts, were slow-dancing. I apologized for interrupting and told them that I was checking on the arrangements for them to ensure they were good.

They stopped their slow dancing (there wasn’t any music, btw) and separated. It seemed like they were embarrassed. Meanwhile, checking the facilities, I discovered it was colder than expected; a light layer of snow covered parts of the floor. Seeing snow flurries drifting in, I followed them until I found the source, a rectangular hole in the cement ceiling. That needed to be fixed, I decided, and resolved that it would be done.

Others came in. I was talking with one man, a tall Asian wearing glasses. We were having a disagreement. I don’t know what it was about, but I was telling him to do one thing and he was refusing.

He hit me, so I punched him. He began walking away. I grabbed him. He hit me again. Angered, I took a sawed-off two by four and slammed it into his face.

I hit him harder than I’d planned and was shocked at what I’d done. Immediately contrite, I apologized again and again. He looked shock but said nothing.

The dream ended.

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The House Buying Dream

My wife was buying a house. The street address numbers were either 124 or 214. She was also buying it for either $124,000 or $214,000. She kept it as a secret from me, and it was supposed to be an investment.

I’m not certain how I learned what she was doing, but the dream was taking place on the night she was closing the deal. She was buying the home in her original home state, but we were at home, and her sister, B, was visiting.

Other guests were present, including a young airman who’d serve with me at different locations, R, and a young officer, J. They were all at my house, which was a large condo located downtown. R and I were walking around talking. We were reminiscing about racing. I was particularly remembering that R had worried a few years before that he was going to be exposed because he’d been racing in one league. The other league didn’t know about it, and he was worried about their reaction.

At one point, I was on a large, well-furnished landing. R and I were talking. J joined us, drawn by the conversation. It switched to houses. I commented that this was the only place that I owned. J said, “Well…”

I asked and he confirmed if he was talking about my wife’s secret deal. I told him I’d overheard people talking about it, and I wasn’t worried; she was doing it as an investment. I was confused about the address being either 124 or 214 Maxwell, and then realized that the price was also those numbers.

J had been staying with us in a guest suite off that landing. I talked about how it’s a nice suite, but it’s in an odd location, out of the way, so you’re often forgotten, but you often overhear things being said on the landing because people forget you’re there.

Many sirens were going on outside. R and I went out to the street and stood on the sidewalk, trying to learn what was going on. It was night, and it had been raining. The sellers were starting to arrive. I knew them, didn’t like them, and wanted to avoid them. I thought this was probably one reason that my wife was keeping her purchase a secret.

R, J, and I returned to inside. It was now later. R was saying good-bye, and J was saying good-night. My sister-in-law, B, was talking about saying good-night, and then we talked about movies and music as my wife joined us. I had to unwrap my feet. They were in bandages. As I did that, the others left.

I turned on a movie. It was a huge screen, but I worried about the sound because the guest room where my sister-in-law, so I turned the sound down. I was watching an old favorite movie, but I don’t know the title. As I began watching, I resumed unwrapping my feet and inspected them. My feet looked fine.

The dream ended.

 

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