Category: miscellaneous

The White House Dream

This dream wasn’t about the POTUS home. I was visiting with friends at a white stick frame house. In excellent condition, it was about 100 years old and had an odd layout which annoyed me. The house had a small wing added to it. My friends and I were outside but sometimes entered the white house. But going to different parts required me to pass through the added wing.

I was with four to seven friends. The number varied as people came and went. All male, all are RL dead.

But we were outside at a table in a garden, surrounded by trees, enjoying ourselves, when I spotted a shimmering in the air. “Look at that,” I said. They looked but did not see, following up with queries for a description about what I saw. I’d been looking at a tree framed by blue sky and it looked for a second like it was a glassy pond surface broken by a small ripple.

The description amused the others but they didn’t see anything like that and dismissed it. I kept watching for another, jumping from my chair, pointing and shouting when one was seen. “There, see it? It’s like a clear soccer ball is forming from ripples on a clear lake reflecting the sky.”

Although they looked, they didn’t see, irritating me as they muttered to one another that I was seeing things. I responded by telling them off for not being more alert and aware.

Some of them were coming and going through this so the entire situation was being rehashed for the newcomers. When one returned, it became a joke for them to ask if I’d seen anything else.

I went off to use the restroom, talking to myself with outrage about their ability to see what I now called energy manifestations, as that’s what I thought they were. I passed through the added wing to go from the house’s back to the front and then in to use the bathroom. Emerging from the house on my return journey, I saw another of the rippling. This time, it was a hazy humanoid shape.

It struck me that these were ET or humans from another dimensions attempting to enter our existence. I didn’t mention it to the rest, who now labeled me as a little nuts. Shortly after sitting, I spotted another. This one was definitely a clear, naked, generless human form. I watched it come into being and walk off, a clear thing that went into the woods. Going into the wing, I spotted a short white man with a white bushy ‘stach walking through there. I knew he lived in that wing and then I knew, too, that he’d been one of the what I now called ‘energy beings’ in my head. Thereafter, I tried keeping an eye on him.

Then, from nowhere, we became aware of a large celebration of elderly men taking place in a field. Long tables set with white linen were set up. I realized that four tables were in place, with twenty-five men to a table. They were serving huge pieces of cake on china, with gold flatware. I wanted one of those pieces but it wasn’t offered to me.

The dream’s last scene was of the man who I thought was an ET standing between two large trees, looking at me, holding a plate with a piece of cake.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

It was Wednesday. As though scheduled by God, school children began filing into the coffee house at 2:05. Within five minutes, the number of people went from six quiet adults to six quiet adults and fifty noisy children aged ten through fifteen, at a guess. The volume rose. Their voices climbed louder. A fighter jet taking off would have been drowned out.

The cliques formed and routines were honored. Then one teenaged female raced back through the coffee house and out the front door. As she left, she screamed and then did a little dance. A girl outside ran up to her. The two surged into a long hug and began jumping up and down without releasing each other, joy overwhelming their expressions. Other girls in the coffee shop turned, saw the scene and ran out to join them. “Eva, Eva,” one running girl shouted as she raced out, answering one question.

Of course, other questions surfed his mind, like who was Eva and where had she been? She seemed very popular. It was like she was just getting back from prison, a hospital stay, or a very long trip.

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A Traveling Dream

The beginning was chaotic. My wife and I were younger people. She had a girlfriend staying with us, no one knew from RL. We also had a small brown puppy on a red leash, a very smart dog.

She and her friend were trying to start a business. As I wasn’t involved, the details are scant to me. I was busy fixing things around the house, working in bathroom pipes around the sink and tub, then dashing over to work on the computer, helping my wife and her friend with their computer and the printer. All the time, the puppy follows me around and I talk to you. My wife will sometimes say, “Oh, no, where is the puppy,” because the puppy isn’t where she left him. “Relax,” I answer, “he’s right here beside me.”

Wife makes a tentative decision. Someone is interested in their business but they have to go meet them, which is a five-hour drive away. Will I take her? We jockey back and forth in the conversation, we me explaining that I don’t want to stay overnight because we have the puppy and there are things I must do, followed up by asking her, are you staying the night? How long will you be there?

She’s anxious with excitement, indecisive and scattered, frustrating me. I finally force the issue: I’ll drive you up and then return tonight. I’ll be driving ten hours. A neighbor comes and takes the puppy.

Then we’re in a car on a highway. I’m driving. I’m in the right-hand land of this divided highway, behind a car. The car is slowing. There’s a motorcycle in the left-hand lane but they’re several hundred yards back. I want to change lanes but the car in front of me is suddenly slowing. Checking my driver-side mirror, I discover that the motorcycle has caught up. I accelerate a little, create space, and change lanes.

That lane is now also slowing by a tremendous amount. What’s going on? I wonder, trying to see what’s ahead. First, we’re no longer on concrete; we’re on a soft dirt path. There are construction signs. The road is being worked on. Everyone, including us, is on foot, following one another like we’re cars.

We’re slowing. Ahead is a vertical pipe. We must climb up that. I’m carrying all of my wife’s luggage plus some long, heavy metal thing. I realize that I’d need to climb without using my hands. My wife and her friend anxiously watch, waiting for my decision about what I’ll do.

I realize, nobody else is carrying anything. They left it in their vehicle. Why didn’t we do that? I intuit that the construction people will transport the cars up to the other end of the pipe. This infuriates me; why do we need to leave our car at all? Why can’t they just transport the cars with us in it?

“Come on,” I tell the others. “We’re going back to the car.” I figure that there must be another way.

We’re back in the car. I drive fast in the opposite direction. There’s a detour sign on my left. I turn the car that way even though my wife wants to stop and think it over. We’re suddenly at our destination. “I knew it,” I crow, pleased.

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Thursday’s Wandering Thought

He admired his blue pullover. It was a cheap thing, a rag sweater bought for about $15 over twenty years ago. He still liked it although no elastic properties remained in it. Other than that failure, the sweater had no holes, no picks from an animal’s claws — which was truly amazing — and had not frayed anywhere. He’d bought it a store which no longer existed.

The store name, Mervyn’s, came to him after a moment. He remembered their television commercials. It seemed like they’d gone out of business so suddenly and was gone, like a brief rain shower on a hot summer day.

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The Writing Moment

Although he was still at home, preparing to leave, he’d already shifted into writing mode. His mind’s doors were open to characters. Watching and listening to them like they were people arriving at a conference, he addressed a scene which he’d edited yesterday and barely heard his wife saying something about a news event.

He turned to her as her remark’s tail end registered. “Who?”

She repeated the name and summarized who he was.

He nodded. “Oh. Him. Yes.” He knew exactly who she was talking about. It’s just that he wasn’t really there. It was only his body which was present.  

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The Hotel Dream

Several memorable aspects emerged from this dream. My wife and I, younger folks, had bought an older place. Having moved in, we discovered it was a hotel and we had several guests. I knew them; all were male salesmen, white, with short black hair, wearing suits, with very broad shoulders. They looked like ex-offensive line men and I knew one had been. Right after I realized they were in the rooms, they began checking out. Turned out there were three.

The first salesman checking out forced me to realize that I didn’t know what was happening. Scrambling to catch up, I went through the small hotel. Dinghy wallpaper was hung, which I declared needed to be replaced. At least three stories were found. The rooms were small and the halls were tall and narrow. Several cats were present. I began taking care of them while inventorying the hotel. It was dilapidated, with a strange, brownish carpet which was bare in many spots. The salesman was ready to go and needed to pay and get a receipt. I found a system hidden behind pieces of paper taped to the top of them. The paper were notes to staff about how to use the system according to the header on one, but all were blank.

I wrote out a receipt longhand for the guest, thinking through all the line items a receipt like that should have. He was comfortable with that and prompted me, “You also need the date.” I then signed it. Holding up a fat tome, he mentioned he had a paperback book that was in the room and wanted to take it with him. I told him, “No charge,” because we had bought it used at a Goodwill for a quarter.

My wife, who’d been wandering around the place rushed over, urging me to charge him, complaining, “That’s why we’re losing money.”

I told her that I didn’t think a quarter would break us. We argued about little things adding up. I noticed that the carpet’s edges were green.

Meanwhile, I was thinking, I need to organize a checkout system. I removed the papers from atop the system and found a small gray system. Looking very old, it was turned off and didn’t seem to be attached to anything. I decided not to use it but just do everything by hand myself. The second man showed up to checkout. This went better, but he had to tell me when he arrived because I had no idea.

I realized by this point that the odd carpet was withered grass. Finding a spray bottle of water, I began walking around, spraying the grass to encourage it to grow back. As I did, I discovered petunias and tulips springing up in full bloom and called out to my wife, “Hey, look, we have flowers in our yard.” I was thinking as I did this it would be lovely to have a lush green lawn as my carpet. This lawn was full of weeds. That didn’t worry me; I would pull the weeds. Since they were inside, the weeds shouldn’t return as long as I kept pulling them when they appeared and watered the grass. Many parts of it were already green and restored. I would let the flowers stay.

At this point, the third man arrived to check out. Since I was working on the carpet-lawn, I told her to check him out and explained what to do, which she did.

After that, a very slick-appearing man in a uniform appeared. He introduced himself as ‘the major’ and showed me so beautiful shiny blue things which he’d acquired from foreign countries. He wanted to display them for sale in my hotel. My wife was instantly against that, telling me, “Don’t give him any money.” I informed the man that I wasn’t paying anything or giving money or security in any form, no security deposits, nothing, and that we would not be liable for his objects. He seemed to be agreeing with that. Then he sat down and put his legs up. His feet were replaced by prosthetics. I asked him if that happened in the war, and he said, “Yes.”

Dream end.

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Another Dead Person Dream

Last night’s dream had a special guest, a stepfather who died years after Mom divorced him. He’s father to two of my sisters. An addicted gambler, he lived in a room in a church, given to him with a small stipend for being the church caretaker, in the years before his death, forced to go there after the factory where he worked on a baking assembly line was shut down.

I always felt sorry for him and said so to my half-sisters, his daughters. One snapped, “I love him but he was very stupid and made bad decisions. He never learned from anything that he did.”

Hearing her say that shocked me, although it had been my opinion of him. All that is background to the dream, along with the note that I’ve had about six dreams featuring dead people in 2023. This is George’s first appearance.

To the dream.

I was visiting Mom at her house. She and I and everyone present were decades younger than RL. George, the deceased stepfather, was there, planning to go on a trip. His presence surprised me; I knew he was dead and I knew that he and Mom were divorced, but there he was.

‘There’ was a half-finished house. I couldn’t fully grasp what was done, as it wasn’t consistent in the dream. George mostly emerged from the bathroom and was in the kitchen when I encountered him. One oddity about the unfinished house was that the yard outside of it was covered in white carpeting. Sometimes a part of the yard was set up as a room, carpet on the floor, trees around it.

My two little sisters, George’s daughters, were there, young teenagers. George didn’t like me and was showing it. I was making comments to Mom. When I did, George would correct me. He’s right, I would realize, astonished. I was wrong and he was right.

I poured myself a glass of red wine and drank it, repeating that two more times. When I checked the bottle, it was still full. I chortled to myself, I’m going to keep this bottle, and took it with me.

George emerged from the bathroom. I tried being polite with him, asking, where are you going? How long will you be away? He gave me mean looks, refusing to answer, walking up the stairs to the kitchen. which didn’t have any walls.

Going outside with my bottle of wine, I met my youngest sister by a table. A single glass was on top of the table. As I spoke with her about George’s surprising intelligence, I poured wine into the glass. I completely missed the glass! Red wine made a huge stain on the white carpet.

Horror struck me. Oh, my god, what was I going to do? My sister was anxious about it, too. We threw glances back at the house and warned one another, Mom better not find out.

I went back to the house. George was about to leave. I told him to have a good journey and to stay safe. He departed without replying.

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Wednesday’s Wandering Thought

Rain was coming down. Black asphalt reflected the oncoming traffic’s lights. The speed limit was 35 MPH here but he guessed that the approaching SUV was doing closer to 50. He couldn’t identify what brand the big, silver SUV was, because its grill and front end were gone. As it went by — a Toyota, he noted — he saw that the young female driver was holding a cell phone on top of the steering wheel. Her jaw and mouth were moving like she was shouting at the phone.

He wondered what the story was behind the vehicle’s front-end damage.

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Monday’s Wandering Thought

He eavesdropped on two young women. They were seated about five feet from him. He guessed they were twenty years old and probably SOU students.

One woman asked the other, “Are you asexual?”

“Yes,” the other answered. “And bisexual.”

“You can be both?”

“Oh, yeah, you can be both.”

Can you, he wondered to himself. He thought that asexual meant that they either lacked sexual organs, or weren’t interested in sex and didn’t engage in sex.

Continuing his activities, he thought, it’s just another way in which words and their meanings are changing. He still couldn’t reconcile being asexual and bisexual, though.

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Five Dreams, A Few Thoughts

Five dreams are remembered this morning. Takes a while to process them. I usually do this in bed, eyes closed, pulling out their sequences. What normally happens is that I have a dream and wake up with it in mind, process it, and return to sleep. Then I dream again and repeat the process. Later, I sit and freehand the dreams. Sometimes, when the dreams become larger, more involved and remembered, I type them up. And sometimes I post that result, usually without any insights I acquired, just presenting the raw dream. In this instance, because there were five sharply remembered dreams, I just wanted to share intriguing aspects of two.

I was with my father. It was Christmas. His third wife was there, too. I’d brought twelve gifts meant for my cousins. Several of those cousins are dead. I knew that in the dream. When I showed Dad what I’d bought for who, I actually said, “Even though he died,” when I introduced their gifts. Dad laughed at that and I responded, “They’re dead but they still deserve a gift.”

Gifts included beer, pastries, pasta, and books. I explained to Dad when describing the gifts, showing them to him, why I selected each present. Dad seemed particularly surprised by the beer, which was a German Pilsner with a flippy top, which were common in Germany when I lived there.

What happened next is that I went off for a bit, returning to find that Dad gave away several of the presents to the people because he forgot buy them. So instead of a gift for my cousin, Jeff, for example, Dad gave it to his nephew, Jeff. That left me speechless. In Dad’s usual style, he laughed off my protests and explained that he just said it was from both of us so what difference does it make? The people received the gift, which is the intent of the gift being bought.

I didn’t fully buy into Dad’s position but decided yes, the person getting the gift was most important, so why be an asshole about it?

He later asked me if I had other gifts to give people, because he didn’t buy gifts for others but he thought he should receive a gift. I laughed at him, mocking his lack of preparation and planning, but took him to a white chest freezer and began pulling things out. He asked me why I put them into the freezer. I answered, “Ask your wife. She gets it.”

The other dream had a segment involving a vase. I was in a dim warehouse sort of building, metal, with high, dull lights. Items were stacked on shelves, creating a labyrinth, and lots of shadowy places.

White and tall, with flowers and dragons painted on it, the vase had several cutouts. I noticed the vase and remarked on its beauty. When I did that, one of vase’s cutouts yawned wider and issued a black cloud. I jumped back, pushing the others with me back to avoid it. We discussed, “What is that?” Several, including me, believed it to be poison. We wanted to get out of there fast but there was only one narrow path out. The vase was up on a shelf at head level along the path.

We needed to pass the vase to leave, we found, because we found every other way blocked. Two attempts were made to race past the vase but it moved each time, growing larger and growling at us. Finding a hammer, I attempted to attack it. The vase counter attacked, growling more and growing larger again, issuing more scary black gas. The vase’s cutouts now had teeth.

Someone said, “You have to get rid of that vase.”

“I know,” I answered. Swinging the hammer, I knocked the vase onto the floor. It rolled toward us in a rush. I hurdled it, but it was trapping others. I rushed the vase. It spun around me. Jumping back, I dropped the hammer. Teeth bared and roaring, the vase charged me. Dodging it, I pulled a shelf partially over, stopping it from getting me. I spotted an old black, portable television on a shelf. Grabbing the television, I lifted it over my head and slammed it down on the vase. The television and vase both broke. Enough of the television remained for me to hit it again with the television.

The vase pieces were trying to come back together. Someone threw the hammer to me. It bounced on the cement floor. I seized it and hit the larger pieces of the vase. The vase hissed out wisps of the black cloud. I started kicking its pieces around, shouting at the others to run past it and escape. After the last of them had gotten past, I picked up the largest piece of vase, threw it across the warehouse, turned and ran.

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