Category: miscellaneous

The Conversation Dream

I dreamed I was with a few men speaking with a male teenager. We were all sitting around a table. The young man was talking about a book. He said it was called Halo. He was talking about how it’d come out in 1972, and then commenting, “How can anyone remember anything from then?”

I said, “I read the book when it came out.”

He asked, “How much of it do you remember?”

“Not much. I was about sixteen and in high school. I was reading many books then, and doing sports, and taking classes.”

“That’s my point,” the teenager said. “You can’t remember things from then.”

I answered, “I remember reading Catching in the Rye a few years before that, and Catch 22, and The Hobbit, and Lord of the Rings, Fahrenheit 451, and Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. I don’t remember Halo.”

The kid said, “I’ve never heard of those books, but I did see Foundation on TV. It was okay.”

Dream end.

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The Mistakes Dream

Okay, another dream that placed me in the military, but I think other aspects have more meaning.

Young, about thirty-eight, the age I was when I retired, I was in a conference room with the commander and several other people. I was wearing my light blue uniform shirt with dark blue pants, standard for the Air Force and office work in those days.

The conference was very nice and modern but for some reason, the commander was upset about three lights in the ceiling. These were back in the middle, by the rear wall. The lights were small, recessed task lights, adjacent to one another, silver. The commander, a colonel, was going on about the lights being useless. “I’m going to prove it,” he shouted, “and get them removed.”

I was listening to this screed with some disdain. I thought the lights could have a use not immediately apparent — otherwise, why install them? — and it wasn’t like it made the room unusable. But I wasn’t interested in arguing with him.

The commander and a group of people left. I stayed, as did a few others, waiting for something else. Bored, I was balancing a hollow cylindrical rod on my palm. This was about three feet long, but six inches in diameter. I decided to push it against the acoustic ceiling tile. To my surprise, it cut out a perfect round hole in the tile.

The others immediately gathered, aghast, asking, “Oh my God, what did you do? Why did you do that?”

I felt more amused than upset with it, but I did immediately start trying to think of a way of covering it up. Several ideas were considered and rejected. I shrugged; the commander would come in and find it, and I’d deal with the fallout. I was almost done here, anyway, due to retire or leave within a few weeks.

Then I noticed that my uniform was screwed up. It wasn’t buttoned right, the right chest pocket was torn and hanging off, and I hadn’t attached my name tag and insignia. I also realized that I needed a haircut; I’d meant to do that and forget.

I told the rest that I need to go. “Why?” they asked. “I need to change my uniform.” I pointed out the problems with it.

The commander returned as I was doing that. He saw the mistakes and shrugged. “Go get it taken care of,” he said.

Dream end.

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The Cow Puzzle Dream

I was a younger man. At first I saw myself from a distance, trudging over green rolling hills under a cloudy sky, but then I dreamed zoomed in and only saw myself from the waist up, following as I walked.

I was walking among grazing black and white cows. Most ignored me. I wasn’t concerned, and it seemed natural that I walked among cows. Beams of sunshine would sometimes break through and dazzle me, and I’d put a hand up to shield my eyes.

The sense or awareness came over me that this was familiar. Slowing and thinking, I suddenly knew that I was in a jigsaw puzzle. I stopped. My dream camera panned out. I could clearly discern the pieces’ shape. Some were missing.

How, I asked, is that possible? Where were the pieces? I thought the puzzle was completed. Then, I realized with a greater shock, how can the cows be alive, eating, and moving, if it’s a jigsaw puzzle? How could the clouds move and the wind blow? How could I be moving and thinking if I’m in a puzzle?

Dream end, as I woke up.

5

More DIY Success

Another minor problem, another simple repair, and more gratitude for the net and its plethora of DIY videos.

This case involved a running toilet. First thought: change the flapper valve. But when I was checking it out, I saw how much the Fluidmaster fill valve was leaking. Ah. How is thing fixed or replaced? I have minor to zero experience with these things, so it was to the net!

First, toilets are fascinating modern devices. Their designs have been refined. They’re pretty efficient relative to the past, robust, and modular. Fixing things on them is stunningly easy.

Second, I was astonished to learn recommendations that the fill valve be replaced every five years. I have never in my life seen one replaced.

Once I identified what I had installed inside my toilet, I headed down to our local Ace hardware. The right piece was quickly found and paid for, eight dollars after my loyalty coupon was supplied.

Videos demonstrated how remarkably easy it all is. They usually took five to fifteen minutes. I figured that I would need thirty to forty. I was right. It wasn’t a matter of incompetence, but access. The fill valve connects to the feed line through a port in the cistern’s bottom. The toilet’s water supply needs to be shut off, the cistern drained, and then the feed line disconnected. Getting my hands around the plastic nuts to disconnect the water supply — and then tightening them again at the end — was the most challenging aspect.

Yes, I feel pleased, even satisfied. I’ve learned more, saved a little money, and was rewarded with a muffin for my effort.

It was all win.

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The Waves Dream

I was in water, which seemed to be an ocean or sea. Others were in the water, which was a light aquamarine in color. An azure sky ruled. Waves licked and tumbled over flat, white, sandy beaches.

The warm water wasn’t up to my waist, but reached the bottom of my trunks, which were flowers on dark green. I soon noticed the water was rising. I couldn’t figure out why. Others didn’t seem to notice, or maybe just weren’t commenting. As the water rose over my waist, I decided to go ashore.

I found I couldn’t. The waves weren’t any more threatening but strong currents were dragging me further into the water. It was happening to everyone. All were struggling to keep from being taken out to sea.

I tried fighting the current and lost. Then I thought, maybe I could go with the current and then break free and return to land via another direction. I quickly learned that wasn’t feasible.

The water was up to my neck. It was warm and comfortable but frightening as I coped with a fear that I could drown. I tried again striking out for the shore but ended up with water up to my chin and splashing into my mouth.

I dove under. The water was darker and colder. I kicked out and then started using my arms, swimming underwater, taking whatever the currents let me. I wasn’t sure what direction I was going or where the land was. The water kept growing darker and colder.

I came free. I don’t know how or where. I suddenly found myself striding over volcanic rocks, sputtering water and gasping for air. I was on land but didn’t know how I’d made it. Looking back for the beach, I found it. The water was still that pleasant aquamarine with light waves, but darkening clouds had gathered overhead.

Dream end.

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A Dream of Nines

Although a military dream, the aspect of nines being repeated struck me more.

The perspective was interesting. I was up above the scene, looking down on everything, following ‘me’ around. I was in the military again, young again, a young NCO again, at a new command post again, and I was nervous. I knew an exercise was kicking off. I worried about being up to it. Being led around the console areas by a young, nervous officer, I was being shown dozens of things simultaneously. Several other controllers were already on duty, tracking aircraft, on the phones with the squadrons and theater headquarters, or on the radio with aircraft or ground operations. A lot was going on and I was a little dizzy with it.

Per standard procedure, the command post was a secure area. A cypher lock was on the door. I’d been given the combination and was walking around repeating it to myself as I took in everything. The numbers were six three one eight. I kept saying them to myself under my breath, “Six three one eight, six three one eight.” Meanwhile, others had come in, taking up positions up in the battle staff and over on the reports console.

Then, as I was listening to the officer, following him, repeating the numbers, I thought, six plus three equals nine. One plus eight equals nine. I looked at the clocks. The local time was almost six AM but it was almost nine PM GMT. The officer said, “It’s going to start at nine Zee.”

That’s nine Zulu, aka, nine GMT. I acknowledged that but thought, “Six plus three equals nine and one plus eight equals nine, and nine plus nine equal eighteen. If you break that down, one plus eight equals nine.”

Looking around, I realized, there were nine people in the sprawling command post now, including me. Then the officer said, “It’s nine Zee, time to begin.” Emergency Action lines began ringing. As controllers turned on the red lights, secured the console zone, and put the EAL on speaker, the officer looked at me and said, “Let’s get started.”

I replied, “Okay.”

Dream end.

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The Refugee Dream

Dreamland has been a busy place for me, but life has been busy, keeping my deeper ruminations about my dreams to minimal levels. Last night’s dream about being a refugee had a sharper feel to it, though.

I was a prisoner along with many others and had been for some time. The dream really began at the end of that incarceration, when we finally found a way past the gates and walls keeping us in captivity. After we came out, blinking because we were seeing the sun for the first time in weeks, we were told by someone anonymous that we were free, and that ‘our side’ had won.

We’d been falsely imprisoned, though, and wanted justice for that. The people who were responsible were eight men. We wanted them found and brought to trial. I was given the task of drawing wanted posters for them.

I protested, I don’t even know how they look. Well, it needed to be done, and I needed to do it, because I was the one who could, I was told.

I found paper, charcoal, and pencils, and began doing sketches, working off other people’s descriptions of the eight. Someone told me about an office where a cache of information was. Going there and rooting around, I found that someone else had already created rudimentary sketches of the eight. I began improving these, shaping and sharpening features, adding details. It all came sharper into mind as I worked.

The people in charge came by to see how I was progressing and were impressed by my work. Looking out, we then saw a bearded man walking past who resembled the number one wanted person on my poster. As word spread that it was him, I held up my poster and looked at him in profile, amazed at how well I’d captured his image.

Dream end

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