Category: miscellaneous

The Secret Magazines Dream

I was in my mid-forties. My wife and I had decided to clean out and organize a home office space. It seemed to be a semi-detached garage. The cinder-brick walls were pale yellow, a broken concrete and dirt floor was underfoot, and there were several large windows.

We’d lived in this place for a while, but several new people had moved in, and we were becoming acquainted with other neighbors. The office had a very large bathroom, also painted yellow, with a single naked bulb hanging down in the middle. I was in there with six neighbors, all men, with the door shut, discussing people we knew in common. One very tall man — I came up to his chest — said, “Hey, do you know Hylton?” I gleefully replied, “I know Hylton, really tall guy, right?”

I asked everyone if they would leave the bathroom, questioning why we were all in there. After that, I returned to the office. The office had a pale-yellow desk and matching file cabinets and printer stand. They could have been painted from the same can of paint as the walls. I began emptying all the drawers. I was hurrying because I’d hidden Playboy Magazines from my wife in some of the drawers. I didn’t want her to find them. After emptying the drawers, I frantically raced around, trying to find a new place to hide them. What to do! What to do! I could hear her talking in the other room.

She came in. I shoved the magazines into a box and shoved it under the desk. She said, “Oh, you’ve already emptied all the drawers. Good. Let’s go through everything and decide what to keep and throw away.”

I said, “I already did that. We just need to put things away. I can do that by myself. You can go do other things.”

But she disagreed, insistently she was staying there.

A man arrived in the garage next to the office. White, in his mid-forties, he had curly coal-black hair with a matching thick beard and was wearing a blue ball cap and matching overalls. I know this because I could see him over like a sort of divider. I asked, “Who are you?”

My wife said, “This is so and so. I hired him to help us clean and organize.”

I replied, “I have this handled. We don’t need any help.”

But she ignored me, going into the garage area with the man to talk about what he could do to help.

Okay, she was out the room. I resumed my attempt to hide my magazines. There were only four, so I thought it shouldn’t be hard. Then I thought, I haven’t looked at these in years, why do I want to keep them? I also questioned, why should I have to hide them from her? But I knew the reason was that she hated Playboy because of how it sexualized and objectified women.

I quit trying to hide them. My wife entered, saw the magazines, and threw a fit. I told her I was throwing them away, but she ranted about me having them and hiding them. Shrugging that off, I went outside to check on the cats. I had two young ones and wanted to ensure they were okay. I heard a dog barking. Looking over a hedge down into the neighbor’s yard, I saw a large German Shepherd running around. Well, I needed to keep the cats in, then!

I decided to cross the street to get my mail. The street was just a narrow dirt lane but my mailbox was on the other side. A middle-aged white woman was coming down the street on a blue bicycle. I waited for her to go by, but she just drew up and stopped right before reaching me. I was incredulous; she was blocking traffic, but seemed totally indifferent. After a moment, she shifted her bike to go to the mailboxes, the same ones where I was going. A large gray truck was waiting for her to go by, and several other people were waiting, too. But she just did what she wanted, oblivious to what was going on around her. Indignant, I crossed the street to the mailbox. As I reached the other side, she pedaled away.

Dream end.

2

The Cycles of Mail

The cycles of life came in the mail. Credit card invitations when he was young. Cable and Internet deals in his middle age. House and window cleaning services as he aged, followed by landscaping and financial planning, then house-painting and payday loans.

As he reached his mid-fifties, AARP became friendly, as did companies like Prudential, offering planning assistance, worrying if he was saving enough for retirement. Cruise and vacation suggestions came every week. Everyone became concerned about his estate and his will. Hearing-aid flyers were frequently received. Then came funeral and cremation services, with coupons and discounts!

Reaching his mid-sixties brought flyers and letters for Medicare plans. Of course, every two years through it all were pieces from politicians, PACs, and political parties asking for a little money, pleading their cases, railing against one another, and demanding change.

Coming with weekly persistence regardless of the year or his age were advertisements from his local stores, catering to the holidays and time of year.

Fondly he remembered his past mail as he perused the latest offering from an assisted living residence and dropped it into the recycling bin, letting his imagination run wild about what his future mail would bring.

3

Wednesday’s Theme Music

The clouds have taken a wide stance today. Their defenses are stretched thin. Blue sky and sunshine pour through the gaps.

Today is Wednesday, May 25, 2022. We’re into the last week of 2022’s fifth month. Time has slowed for me, which I appreciate.

It’s 60 F out right now, but our local weather dude said we’re probably going to experience the year’s warmest day to date, with our smell segment hitting the low eighties while other parts of the region see the upper eighties. Sunrise was celebrated at 5:41 AM. Closure at the other end of the daylight portion of our day will be at 8:35 PM.

I’m beset by a song I sang to my cat last night. Called “Motorcycle Mama”, I leaned its words and melody by heart without making a conscious effort, also learning to play it by ear on the trombone. Why was I singing it to my cat? That’s a good question. A very good question. I don’t have a good answer. I lack any answer for it. My neurons said, “Don’t look at us. We’re as mystified as you.”

I had to look up the year and artist. I figure it must have been 1970 to 1971 but was clueless about the group or individual behind it, which turned out to be Sailcat, and 1972. My childhood friends didn’t know why I liked this song so much. I appreciated its mellow approach and gentle humor. Decades later, I’d be with two friends having a beer when the three of us broke out in spontaneous harmony and sang it completely. That was memorable fun.

Here’s the music. Stay positive, test negative, etc. Don’t let complacency or weariness take over. I’m off for the coffee. Cheers

4

The House Price Dream

A place was being sold, some sort of home. I’m not sure if it was a house, townhouse, condominium, etc. People were discussing how to price. Two young, grinning boys, brothers, were present, listening, watching me as this was being debated. I didn’t know anyone there or why I was present. Everyone wanted to put the place on the market at a low-ball price because it had been the scene of horrific crimes which the boys did.

I advocated, “No, don’t make it a low price, make it a high price. There’s been a lot of notoriety about what the boys did. It’s well-publicized. Don’t try to hide it. Take advantage of it being a famous place to push the price up.”

More debate followed. I claimed, “People who are aware of the crime who are turned off by it aren’t going to come anyway. So the low price doesn’t affect them. People interested in the crime will come, and if they’re real interested, they’re going to try to buy. Don’t make it easy on them. This is a jewel; you don’t low ball a jewel.”

They decided that made sense. I had nothing to do with the house, other than knowing its history and arguing for a high price. As we finished up and I left the place, my sister-in-law arrived. She said she was going to bid on the place. That surprised me. I asked, “Really?”

She answered. “Sure. Seems like it’d be fun.”

Dream end.

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Another Erotic Dream

A young man, I was working alongside a younger woman in a hectic, busy department store in a large city. She was an attractive woman, with full, curly hair with blond highlights. Enjoying our work, we were putting a window display together when she propositioned me. Although flattered, I knew she was married and didn’t want to involve myself in another couple’s marital issues. She was wearing a low-cut black sweater with a short black skirt. After I declined her offer, she pestered me, trying to coerce me into making out with her. She began kissing my neck and playing grab ass with me. At one point, she seized my hand and put it on her breast. I scurried away. She came up, then reached around from behind and rubbed my crotch. I was aroused but kept declining her and then, finishing up enough with the window display, I hurried away to work elsewhere.

I was turned on, though, and had to hide that as I walked around, which was awkward and uncomfortable. I saw the woman’s husband with her down an aisle The two were looking over at me. I pretended not to see them and looked elsewhere. Irritated, I tried turning my attention to other things but every time I went around a clothing display, I saw the two of them.

A tall female manager in a red dress came by and told me she had a special assignment for me, and to wait there. As I waited, growing impatient, a senior management official, male, white, in a suit, came by and said, “Here’s your tool,” handing me what looked like a thumb drive. Speaking from confusion, I asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?” Already hurrying away, he paused to reply, “Someone will come along and tell you.”

Bewildered and exasperated, I hung out by a rack of clothing and contemplated the thumb drive as shoppers and other workers passed. The thwarted seducer found me. She told me, “I have to go,” and then, after looking around, tried hugging and kissing me. I fended her off as before. She said, “You know you want me, so I’ll be back,” and then rushed away.

Dream end.

0

Another Military Dream

We were going into another country on a commercial aircraft. A warning was issued to us before we boarded: it’d be a crazy landing, with a steep approach. We were all military, dressed in drab olive-green flight suits or green and brown woodland camouflage uniforms. It was a packed aircraft. We were going in as part of a disaster recovery mission.

We were on the aircraft and notified that the descent was beginning. The aircraft abruptly corkscrewed right and down, throwing us around in our seats. It suddenly flattened out. As people commented on the unusual and steep approach, we hit the ground and bounced hard. Rain had slicked the ground outside. We slid off the runway and across wet pavement before slamming the left side, where I sat, by a window, into a building.

I expected explosions or wreckage, but the aircraft continued forward, sliding along with its left side against the building. I saw a dead man fall out of a doorway and then we rocked to a halt. As we filed out of the aircraft, a number of people talked about the landing but always with the proviso, “Well, at least no one was hurt.” I was contrarian. “What about the people in the buildings? I saw at least one dead guy.” As I looked for him, I thought that he may have already been dead before we landed, as he looked stiff and bloodless.

Carrying bags, we went up into a building and were assigned rooms. I was given A233. While others were clustered around the same area, looking at the numbers, I realized that mine was far away. Grabbing my bags, I said, “I know exactly where it’s at,” and went down a hall and directly to my room. Dropping my bags off, I returned to the central office where we would be setting up.

Personnel were crowded into the room. A lieutenant colonel was walking around, speaking as he did, and was clearly drunk. He said, “I think we need a fire.” He then set pieces of paper on fire and put them on my desk. As this was transpiring, I said, “Sir, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to start a fire in here, especially on my desk.” I headed up there as I spoke, simultaneously looking for somewhere to put the fire, something to put it out with, and reaching it from the officer and the desk.

Dream end

1

A Pie Dream

I was younger than my present age, a spitting image of someone who I once was, and I had an unlimited number of pies. I was outside. People, beginning with my wife, came up to me. I would ask, “Do you want a pie?” They’d always reply, “What kind of pie,” and I would answer with a jovial sense, “I can give you any kind of pie that you want. Berry, apple, peach, cherry…I have them all.”

Now for the weird part.

Whenever they agreed to take a pie, I would pull it out to give to them and then say, “Wait. You’re missing something.” This always confused them. I would then go to where two white tubes hung down from the sky and say, “Here, I’ll put it in your pie.” They’d ask, “What are you putting in my pie?” I’d reply, “I’m adding what you need.”

Someone asked, “Where do the white tubes come from?” I looked up in confusion. They seemed to come from the sky. Then, though, looking around, I discovered the tubes were attached to a black wheel. The wheel hung in the sky and was really just a flat black disc hanging vertically in the sky about five feet off the ground. Further, I had several sets of them. The wheels alternated between having two white sets of tubes and two black sets of tubes. I went to different wheels to put things in the pies to give people.

My sisters came along and asked what I was doing. After explaining, I said, “I’m glad you’re here. You can help because demand is growing.” Then, looking across the rolling green hills, I saw throngs of people coming from every direction. That really pleased me. I wanted everyone to have one of my pies.

My sister asked, “How do you know what to put in them?” I said, “You can just look at them and see.”

She replied, “I can’t do it. I don’t see anything.”

I answered, “Yes, you can. You can learn. Keep trying. It’ll come.”

Dream end.

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