Tag: anxiety

Thursday’s Wandering Thoughts

One of last night’s dreams included a giraffe. I don’t think I’d ever dreamed of a giraffe before. It also seemed at odds with the rest of the dream. Having written and thinking about it, I put it aside with a promise to self to look up what a giraffe in a dream might mean. This explanation came up in my efforts.

Dreaming of a giraffe is a pointer to the challenges and difficulties you’ll have to face to streamline your life.

The giraffe dream tells you to see beyond the immediate challenges. Just as the giraffe can see predators at a distance, this dream calls on you to be wary of danger.

I might be groping for straws, but this definition fit with my initial, spontaneous take on why a giraffe was in my dream.

0

Overlapping Dreams

Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.

First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.

Me: I did? What is it?

“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?

“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”

This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.

“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”

The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.

I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.

I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.

Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.

I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”

“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”

I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”

I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”

I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.

Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.

I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.

Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”

Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”

I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”

“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”

Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”

But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.

Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.

“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”

Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.

0

Tuesday’s Wandering Thoughts

Whenever I come home, I check to ensure the cats are still alive. I do the same with my wife if she’s napping or in bed. Is this normal behavior.

Signed, Am I Being Macabre?

1

The Writing Moment

I had a strong and productive writing session yesterday. But being so involved, my sense of time evaporated. I found myself leaving the coffee shop an hour later than usual.

I couldn’t go directly home, but had to go buy light bulbs. Finishing with that errand, I jumped into the car to head home. By now, I was an hour and a half later than usual.

My phone rang. It was my wife. “What’s up?” I asked.

“Where are you?” she answered. “You’re much later than your usual time. I’m calling to see if you’re dead or unconscious in a hospital.”

“You called to see if I was dead or unconscious?” I laughed.

She did not.

3

Mom’s House – A Dream

First, this isn’t anything like Mom’s real life house.

I was sleeping in the dream when something awoke me. I stayed in bed listening. Shades were pulled but daylight was growing visible through the slates. I knew I was in Mom’s and I thought I was alone but I was hearing noises downstairs. As I listened, I realized it was one of my younger sisters, so I dressed and went downstairs.

Down there, I found an open door that led to a patio. A man in half-removed black leather clothing was prostrate on the patio. My sister was further out on the patio, busy doing things. We said hello, and then I asked about the man. She said it was my cousin, Rick. (Due to the marriages and divorces, Rick isn’t her cousin.) Rick, half sleep or drunk, said with a grin and eyes barely open, “Yes, it’s me, Rick. I came to see you.” He then went to sleep.

I moved on out onto the patio. I’d need seen this house of Mom’s before, and was amazed. It was a white cement modern design on the ocean’s shore. Sunshine brightly lit the day. The tide was coming in, entertaining me with smells and thunderous cracking sounds. I was pleased and astonished and talked to my sister about this.

But — the house was right on the shore, although there was an elevation down to the sea. The incoming tide was coming closer and closer to the house, slashing the rocks and earth with heavy rolling waves. I worried about the house flooding, and watched until the waves were right at the house’s foundations.

Then something moved on my vision’s edge, flagging my attention: a black and white kitten was cavorting about on a cement piece. It disappeared.

I hustled over to look for it. It was down under white cement bridge trusses, along with another kitten. The second one was playing in the sea water. Horrified, afraid they needed rescued, I leaned further over.

A man and boy were down with the kittens. With me watching, the boy retreated, calling the kittens, who ran after him.

I headed back for Mom’s house. Now I could see more of its exterior broaded slabs of glass and white cement at arty angles, a very modern and interesting design, with several patios, porches, and balconies. I also saw then that the water had completed retreated already. I asked myself, “How did that happen so fast?”

Going over, I spoke with my sister, pointing out the tide threat to the house, because climate change was raising water levels. I showed her where I can see how high the water used to go, and compared it to this latest. My sister was dismissive, answering, “I know, but this is Mom’s house. It’s not my problem.”

I chastised her for that thinking but left. Mom and her partner arrived. We talked about the house but then she mentioned her other house and wanted her partner to go check on it because there’d be a storm early in the week. I volunteered to go with him and we headed for the door. Mom stopped me and said, “Do you need money? I can give you some if you need it.” I graciously turned her down, thanking her as I did.

Her partner and I arrived at another place. Isolated and not nearly as grand as the place which I’d just left, surrounded by mud and puddles, it was also white and modern, although it all looked shabby and dirty. I asked him, “Whose house is this?” When he replied that it belong to him and my mother, I followed up, “You two bought it together?”

“Yes,” he answered.

He and I made our way into the house. There was no furniture. In the kitchen, I discovered warped, damaged cupboards. I pointed these out to him, and he agreed, these needed to be replaced. I found an open window. Showing him, I asked, “Is this always left open?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, that’s what’s damaging the inside. That needs to be closed.”

Dream end.

0

The Maze Dream

This dream began as a military variation.

I was in the US Air Force in the dream, as I had been for twenty plus years in real life. Arriving at a new assignment, I was created warmly by new co-workers. They’d been looking forward to my arrival.

After settling into a room, I change into my uniform to go meet my new commander. My pants an shirt were crisply sharp and mustache and hair cut were aligned with regulations. Very satisfying. Putting on my highly polished shoes, I discovered I had no shoe strings.

No shoe strings. The situation flummoxed me. How could I have shoes with the strings to tie them?

It was late, I had an appointment, and nothing was open to buy new laces. But needing shoe strings, I went around fast, knocking on doors and talking to people, looking for shoe strings to borrow. I found a pair of shoes with purple shoe strings but rejected them; purple shoe strings with a dress uniform wouldn’t work. I’d rather go without shoe strings.

Co-workers came to the door, urging me to hurry. I told them about my problem with the thought one of them may be able to help me.

They laughed it off and urged me not to worry because I wouldn’t be needing my shoes. Plans were afoot (sorry) for me to wear different clothes and footwear.

Mystified by that, I went with them.

I met the commander, a light colonel. After welcoming me, he immediately asked, “Didn’t they tell you about your new assignment?”

“No details,” I answered, hiding confusing.

He chortled and gestured. “We’re going to make you big. Then you an help monitor the maze and guide people through it.”

Those words completely confused me but I reigned that it and responded with a respectful, “Sir?”

Seeing my confusion, he continued smiling and answered, “You’ll see.”

The next I knew, I was very large. I guess I was twenty-five feet high and proportionately as broad as a fit young man. No longer appearing as I had, I’d lost my mustache, and was very pale skinned, with short, razor-cut hair. My clothing and shoes were now tight black pants, a tight white tee shirt, and black canvas shoes.

And I was in a maze.

Lined with white cement, the waist rose to about my waist. The walls were about a foot thick. I could see people wandering through the maze. I then understood, oh, I’m supposed to be helping them because they can’t see where they are, nor where they should go. Others large individuals, like me, male and female, of various ethnicities were finding lost individuals and calling out directions abut where to go.

Finding a young woman near me in the maze, I began doing the same.

Dream end

I often have dreams which focuses on my military career. I always think of it as a subconscious yearning for that period of life, which was ordered and structured, but also full of purpose and direction.

The twists, of needing shoe laces, and then becoming a large person, helping others through a maze, were quite unique in my dream experiences. I arrived at the conclusion that I’m trying to tell myself that I’m worrying about something which doesn’t matter, and that I’m ‘bigger’ than that. It’s not others I’m helping through the maze, but myself.

Or The Neurons were yet again just messing with me.

0

The Space Traveling Dream Again

2:58 AM.

I awoke. Alarm seizes me. I don’t think I’ve set the rechargers for the house.

Was I supposed to set the rechargers for the house?

Does the house — can the house be recharged?

But it has to be recharged. Its engines need to be recharged.

Does the have engines? No, it doesn’t have engines.

Then how does it move?

These were my thoughts as I sat up in bed, suddenly awoke, coping again, with the dream about the house flying through space. I’ve dreamed this seven times recently, posting about it a few times. In it, my house and plot of land have been lifted from the Earth. My wife and cats are with me, and I’m actually impressed and pleased that we’re flying through space. Aliens have done this, I know, but I don’t know why.

After awakening from the dream, I visit the bathroom and check on the cats. Papi, the ginger blade, is drinking from the water bowl on the front porch. Tucker, the black and white enigma, was on the back porch drinking water from that bowl. Interesting symmetry. I returned to bed, and to sleep. Other dreams were experienced but whenever I awoke, I thought immediately of the house flying through space, and whether I’d recharged the engines.

0

The Space Dream

I dreamed I was traveling through space. My house and its lot had been lifted away from the Earth, and there we went, soundlessly zooming through space. After thinking in the dream, is that what’s happening, I was given a distant perspective that confirmed, yep, there I go, with the house, wife, cats, and yard.

I pointed it all to my wife, calling to her as she did something in another room. All I had no idea what our destination was and had questions — was I onboard a larger ship, and who launched us like this — I enjoyed being out there. I was exactly as I now am, as was my house and yard. I saw this from a temporary external position, as though I needed to see it, before returning into my body. Settling behind my desk in my home office, I resumed my typing.

I awoke abruptly. In panic, I thought, where are the cats? Where are Tucker and Papi? Did I put them out? OMG, did I put them out in space? But if I put them out into the yard, wouldn’t they be safe, because it’s — it’s — wait.

Confusion mounting and taking over, I stumbled away from bed, thinking, where am I now? What should I do? If I open the door, would it — what would happen? But —

I’d been in space. But wasn’t that a dream? Or was I now dreaming? Neurons regrouping, we agreed with a laugh, being in space was the dream. Reality was that I was home, securely part of the Earth. But I went out and found the cats, ensuring they were really okay, just in case, you know, and then gazed up at the stars and moon for a few seconds with recollection of the dream.

0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

He had a dream that he was going in the right direction. It didn’t feel like the right direction today. Maybe the dream was wrong. Or maybe going in the right direction was going to be harder than expected.

0

A Dream About Loss

There were twelve of us. We were taking a two-day class. The was the second day. The class was being held in a business annex in an airport. As part of the class, we’d been writing a paper about what we learned. Everyone else was leaving. I was still writing my paper.

I was distracted because I was hungry and I was getting ready to go home. I’d been away for a while. Knowing I was the only one remaining in the class, the instructor began packing up and turning off lights. Other instructors, teaching other classes, came in to have an end of week celebration before they headed out.

I needed to check in for my flight so I sought the instructor to ask permission to send it in later. Not finding him, I packed my laptop and gear and rushed out.

The airport was hectic and unfamiliar. I was struggling to find my way. I briefly set my briefcase with my laptop in it. In a flash, someone picked it up and walked off with it. I was shocked, horrified, sick to my stomach. I tried finding that person so I could get my bag back, especially my laptop. I’ve had a laptop for decades. They help define who I am. Also, I realized, I wouldn’t finish the paper. My notes and the text book were in the bag. So was my plane ticket and wallet!

Distraught, I went back to the classroom. About a dozen instructors were milling in there. My instructor was in the back. I tried speaking but couldn’t. One male instructor noticed me and told the others, saying, “He’s upset. He has something to say.”

They fell quiet to hear me. He encouraged me to speak. I began but started losing it. Reining in emotions, I began again, telling them what had happened. They expressed sympathy and concern. Meanwhile, I bent and saw my briefcase sitting on the floor beside me. Picking it up, I discovered everything I thought was stolen was in it.

I was floored. I’d been carrying that thing around. I’d looked in it before. I was certain everything was gone, yet, I’d had it all along.

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑