Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
If you can talk sensibly to others and remain calm and polite
If you can discern the truth and think critically about what you see, hear, learn, and read
If you can respect others’ rights and freedoms as equal to your own
Then, my friend, you might be a pretty good human being.
I was with my wife’s family. She wasn’t present but all of them that I ever knew, alive or dead, were there.
It was a reunion and joy was the mode as people were recognized and greetings exchanged. I became the host, asking people what they would like to eat and drink. Both of those were limited to start and then quickly became consumed. Mamaw was the last to arrive. I told her that I could give her tea or brussel sprouts, but only one, because I only had one cup left, unless, of course, she wanted to have them together.
She answered, “Brussel sprouts in my tea. Well, I never have but I like both, so let’s do that.”
I responded with surprise, questioning her, confirming she was sure, but served her tea with brussel sprouts.
Time to go! Everyone began rushing around. I hurried around screen to another part of the dream. There, I had a large black stallion named Bolt. Bolt came to greet me. I told him, “Time to give you away.” I knew he was okay with that as he pranced around and neighed. He seemed happy and I laughed watching him. The auction started and the dream ended.
Outside, in a city – maybe a U.S. suburb – at a broad intersection along under clear blue skies. I fart without warning. It’s not a large thing, just a sort of sharp, “Pop,” but with it, I take off perhaps fifty feet into the air and travel several hundred feet. Then, in dream fashion, I’m at the same point, and in quick succession, it happens twice more.
On the fourth time, I kept wind of what was happening (yeah, sorry, had to put it in). I asked myself, how can a fart like that propel me so high and far? There had to be another cause, like weather. I crane all around for what could be behind my flights. Then I fart again, launching anew, traveling the same path, height, and distance.
It must be the farts, I conclude, and wonder what I ate to give me such prodigiously powerful gas. Time is spent pondering that but I’m back on the corner, releasing without warning one more fart.
This time, I think, try to take advantage of it. I spread my arms like wings and flatten my body into a plan and lean forward. Doing this, I catch a breeze, traveling further and higher than before.
Back at my original spot, I’m laughing at events. I fly via a fart. If I learned what was fueling me, maybe I could go further. Then again, I’m always back at the same place, like some perverse Groundhog Day twist.
End dream.
Another string of dreams rumbled through last night. A few were fragmented, disrupted by kitty maneuvering. One stood out for me.
No background to it. Opened with me saying, “It’s fourteen.” Another, ‘off-screen’, replied, “It’s twenty-three.”
I responded, “No, I counted, and it’s fourteen.”
They rejoined, “Twenty-three.”
Then — epiphany. I said, “Wait, it’s 1423.”
Confused murmurs rolled through the dreamscape. Then a beaming black man who I knew was a doctor confronted me. “You solved it! It’s 1423! Well done.”
Dream end.
Or maybe it was just a fragment.
My nocturnal dream stream continued at a frantic pace. Two stood out for various causes.
The first found me vacationing with friends. We were middle-aged and having a ball, even though a tsunami was apparently threatening us. We were down on the beach but we just went up into the mountains and set up a separate camp. Music was being played, food and drink was consumed, and we laughed, having a good time. I returned to our beach camp with several others. Camp sites were set up shoulder to ass. Young women in a nearby site were complaining about the lack of room and nothing to do. Seeing us having fun and enjoying ourselves, they came over and asked, “What’s our secret?”
We said that there wasn’t one, it was just an attitude, that we’d moved on to another space and had just come down to get some things. Many of our friends came into the adjacent camp while this was going on. One of them was hamming up and started entertaining people with a delightful Elvis Presley impression, where he had EP doing a strip tease while singing. My friend was uninhibited about what he showed and did. I thought, man, I wish I could be like him.
A later dream found me in a friend’s house. Calling it a house might be an understatement, but I was only ever in one room. What a room, though, spacious and light, with high ceilings, and walls that were windows that she raised, making them disappear. The whole thing was impressive but I found myself worrying about damaging things, which put the brakes on my entertainment.
Some sort of song and dance thing was going on nearby. A group of us, eight women and two men, decided to check it out. We walked down there and were watching from a distance. The show was still being organized and set up. One act called for audience participation. I was interested but then learned, you had to strip off all your clothes and join them nude.
That put a damper on it for me. The other male friend said that he was going to do it. I watched him as he went up while my friends talked about it. One of them encouraged me to go, but I said, “No thanks.” She pointed out that the other guy in our group had gone. I then saw him sneaking away, fully clothed, and said, “No, he chickened out.”
I then thought about it and said, “Screw it. Here I go.”
I stripped off my clothes, growing aware, of course, of others giving me space and watching. Naked, I walked up to the center ground — there wasn’t a stage — and presented myself. I was the only guy. The organizer was a male. He looked up and said, “Yes.” I answered, “I took off my clothes. I’m here to participate.”
He seemed a little taken back. as I looked around, I saw that others weren’t naked. The organizer said, “Here, put this on.” It was a long tee, which was what others wore. I put it on. It came down to my ass, leaving my pecker to swing in the wind.
The entertainment began. I didn’t grasp what we were doing and what my specific role was, but I winged it. I had fun, and a sense of freedom and exhilaration overtook me. I saw people watching me, especially women, and they seemed to be commenting on this middle-aged semi-naked men, but I thought, what the hell do I care? That’s their problem.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 