The Chaotic Collage Dream

As far as I can remember, the dream began with me visiting my aunts and uncles and father. We were across the country somewhere. He needed to have his car driven home and asked me to do it. Sure, I said. He and the rest would fly.

I don’t know what the car was. Sometimes it was an exotic sports car but then it had a huge trunk, where I put several suitcases, along with books. Wherever I drove the car, it attracted a lot of attention.

I was supposed to arrive before Dad, but I was goofing around, playing with the car, and doing other things. When I realized that I was going to be late, I hurried up.

Driving the car down a hill, I passed a number of people. Somewhere going down the hill, I went from being in a car to being on a motorcycle. Going fast, I went up boulders and into the air with people pointing at me and talking about it as I did. Even though I was on the motorcycle and dozens of feet away from them, I could hear the people talking. They were really impressed with what I was doing.

After this huge jump over a boulder that was about twenty feet high (where people didn’t think I could do it), I landed and got off the motorcycle. Putting it into the back of the car, I raced away, passing a long line of people in cars and buses. There were many children on the buses, and some of the buses were school buses.

That traffic was all stopped, and was the opposite direction. As I sped past, they all pointed at me and the car in excitement.

I reached my destination. Even though I’d dawdled and had been running late, I was surprised to learn that I’d beat my Dad and his siblings. They were supposed to have already arrived. I was sort of relieved, too. Then, going into another room, I found them sitting around having drinks and laughing.

I thought I’d already gone through that room and that they hadn’t been there. I asked them, “Did you just get here?” Several replied, “Oh, no.”

Dad said, “No, we got here yesterday. We’ve been here at least a day. Did you just get here?” As I answered yes, he said, “But you left days ago. Where have you been?”

Two of my younger sisters and I ended up together. We were playing separate games. They were looking for game pieces. I noticed my game pieces were missing, too. We started investigating, hey, where did the pieces go? I started finding some and putting things together. But then, I realized that it was time to go. I didn’t want to go, so I tried hurrying. I then began writing. I said, “I need to write. Give me time to write.”

Dad come by. The scene changed. Several of my cousins, Dad, aunts and uncles were there, along with my younger sisters. We were browsing in a well-lit record store. As I said something about the extensive music selection, Dad said, “I’d go for Genesis. I like them.”

I said, “Genesis? You like Genesis?”

“Sure, Genesis, Journey…I like just about all of them.”

That surprised me. I don’t recall Dad ever listening to music or commenting on music or groups. It was strange, because Mom loves music.

Going outside, I found Dad squatting by the curb. He had a new car. Dad loves sports and luxury cars. He’s bought a few economy cars, and will drive anything, but he’s usually in a Corvette (he’s bought four or five of them), Cadillac, or a luxury SUV, these days.

This car seemed to be a Ford Escort. That’s a car that’s been out of production for a while, but this was a new one. Weirdly, though, Dad was painting or applying decals all over the car. I talked to him about it but I don’t remember the conversation, except that he seemed very matter-of-fact about what he was doing, when it was something that I’d never known him to do in his life.

Late for a flight, I headed to an airport. My flight was already boarding. The boarding process was random and chaotic. Seating seemed to be open. Inside the aircraft wasn’t like any aircraft that I’ve ever been in. Seating areas were in clusters of rows. The clusters seemed to be at forty-five degree angles. The seats were orange.

Many were familiar with the process, but I wasn’t. Everyone was rushing in. Confused, I noticed a few guys who seemed to know where they were going and followed them. They went down some steps and hurried into open seats. I followed but then, realizing that it seemed to be the flight deck, I stopped. As flight decks go, it was as wide as a house. The pilots were seated at windows up front but flight attendants were preparing food and drinks at counters on either side. The men I’d followed were seated. Other open seats were available. The seats were light gray. They looked like they were leather.

From behind me, a young boy, maybe ten, said, “Look at that dipshit. He’s going into the cockpit.” Many people laughed.

I turned to a flight attendant. I said, “Can I sit down here?”

My question seemed to surprise her. As she picked up a tray of beverages, she said, “Yes, if there’s an empty seat. And there are.”

Turning around, I said to the little boy, “You’re allowed to sit down here, if there are seats. People are already sitting down here. Now who’s the dipshit?”

We landed. I didn’t know where I’d landed. Well lit, with multiple levels and vast highways weaving in and out of buildings, it seemed like San Francisco with elements of San Mateo (CA), Pittsburgh (PA), Portland (OR), and Frankfurt, Germany. It teemed with people. Most were business people but some were shoppers. Somehow hurrying the place, I figured out where I was supposed to be going (although it was never stated). The next thing I knew, I was in a car and driving.

The dream ended.

It was an exhausting dream.

 

The Reassurance Dream

One of last night’s dreams had me traveling.

It was all going wrong. It began with me leaving an aircraft and discovering that I’d been on the wrong flight and had subsequently landed in the  wrong place. Knowing that I was on a tight schedule, the realization sent anxiety tremors through me.

As I began to sort the situation, I discovered that besides being on the wrong flight, I didn’t have my tickets. I also didn’t know where my luggage was, or where it was headed.

Chaos ruled the airport. Noisy and crammed with travelers, flights seemed to be screwed up for many. My heart was sinking with the magnitude of the mess. Weariness spread through me.

A tall man in a airline uniform called my name and approached. “We know you’re having some problems. Don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you and make sure you get to where you’re going.”

Two women in airline uniforms were with him. One woman said, “I’ll make sure that you get on your flight and get to where you’re going. Don’t worry about it.”

The man said, “I’m going to get the flight ready. I’ll come back and check on you.” He walked off.

The other woman said, “I’ll be here to help you. Just come and see me if you have any problems or issues.”

I felt a lot better, and flattered. “Okay, thanks. But I’ll be okay.”

“We know,” the second woman said. “We’ll make sure of it.”

I found myself in a packed waiting area. Finding space on the floor, I set down the one bag that I carried. I planned to call people to tell them what was happening. When I looked for my phone, I discovered it where my wallet was supposed to be. In a flash, I realized that I’d packed my wallet with my identification and credit cards in my checked baggage.

I felt sick. Someone could open my bag, find my wallet and steal my credit cards, and my identification. As I grappled with that, a small calico cat came up to me through the terminal. Butting her head against me, she purred, meowed at me, and sniffed and rubbed against me.

Others noticed the cat and were envious, telling me, “How sweet,” and, “Can I pet her?”

The cat allowed herself to be pet and cuddled, but she always came back to me. I told everyone that I’d never seen her before. Someone said, “That’s your protector animal.”

My phone, the old Blackberry that I used to have, began ringing. It was an old friend who died a few years ago. “I got a joke for you,” he said.

“Why’re you calling me now? I don’t have time for jokes, Randy,” I answered.

“Sure, you do. This won’t take long.” Then he told me a joke (which I don’t remember).

Another old friend, also dead, then called. He also wanted to tell me a joked exasperating me. “I don’t have time,” I said. “Yes, you do,” he replied.

The second woman approached. “We have your luggage,” she said, and then, there was my luggage. In a rush, I opened it. My wallet was in there with my ID. My credit cards were in there, but they’d been cut in half.

The woman said, “They saw your credit cards were in your luggage, so they cut them in half, to protect you.”

While I appreciated them looking out for me, I was upset because my credit cards had been cut in half.

Then the woman put her hand up and said, “They ordered new credit cards to replace those, so you won’t have any problems.” In her hand were replacement credit cards.

The first woman then announced to the waiting area that an aircraft was ready for us. A small cheer came from the passengers in response. As I stood and began gathering my items, the woman came over and called my name. “You need to come first,” she said. Then she told the others, “We want him to get to where he wants to go.”

Everyone nodded in understanding as she led me forward to the waiting aircraft.

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