Tag: anxiety

A Short Mom Dream

Snow had fallen but now a sun blazed in the sky, transforming roads into slushy paths. All very picturesque, though. I was inside the house, waiting for Mom to return with my sisters. As usual, I hid from them when they first came in, springing out and surprising them, making them laugh.

We were busy with a multitude of things simultaneously. I went out and walked on the slushy asphalt, testing my footing. It all seemed safe.

A sister called my name from the house door, telling me that Mom wanted my help. When I went in, Mom was struggling with papers and stuff on a table. “Help me figure out my transportation, Michael,” she said. “I need to know who to call and where I need to go when I need to go somewhere.”

Sisters were in the mess, reading things. I picked up a few items and realized after reading that she only needed to go two places to catch transportation. So I marked the phone with bold black letters and began explaining things to her.

She immediately began firing protests back. “But what if I want to — “

I kept explaining that it could all be done with what I’d figured out. Press the 1 one the phone where I’d marked it to go to these places. Press the two for these places. The telephone numbers were programmed into the phone. Then she just needed to go to the place corresponding to the one or the two to be picked up. 1’s pickup spot was her house, so she didn’t even need to leave.

We went on in that vein for a few minutes before the dream ended.

It reminded me so much of being home last month and helping Mom figure out her medications.

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A Made-for-TV Movie Dream

This dream stretch started first with a vignette of me traveling. I’d just settled into my destination when I jerked awake. Paralysis gripped me as I saw where I was and reacted with shock, This isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Where am I? How did I get here? Within a fist of seconds, I knew that I was home. But dream imagery held a little longer, requiring more time for my bafflement to drain. Then, back to sleep and another of Morpheus’s deliveries.

I was not in the next dream at all. This was the movie dream. A man and woman, white, thirtyish, were traveling together in a narrow RV. Ragtag clothes covered them. The man carried a thin, cheap pink cotton blanket while his companion carried a blue one of the same sort. These were the same sort of blankets I saw on many homes in my childhood’s earlier years, when we lived in poorer surroundings, usually on a bed in a small room with sparse furniture.

The couple were stopping for the night and wanted to sleep in a place rented for the purpose. Strangely, not hotel or motel accommodations, nor a house, lodge or cabin. Just a room, twenty feet long and six feet wide (guessing at those numbers), all mattress, dark, with a door on either end. Lacking money, the couple didn’t want to pay for it but wanted to use it so the concocted a plan to sneak into the room, use it for the night, awaken early, and sneak out. They parked their long RV around the corner, where it would be out of sight.

Watching this sequence, I asked, why are they doing this? Why not sleep in the RV? Isn’t that the purpose? I also thought, they’re not going to get away with this. They’re going to get caught.

Yes, they were spotted as they executed their plan and tried sneaking out. The man distracted them, going in one direction as dawn was rising, allowing the woman to reach the RV and drive off. They would meet up on a road outside of town.

But the man needed to get there. He scurried among the shadows around tall buildings and narrow alleys, hiding, working his way out of town. The final hurdle required him to dash through a lobby occupied by the very people hunting him and then sprint across a rocky, open field to a gravel road and then up the gravel road. Dust and sun ruled that space, and five men warily scanned their territory.

Yet, he judged his moment, raced across the lobby’s polished marble floor and fled between two window. Yes, some strange design plan allowed a wall with open space between two tall plates of glass. He’d spotted that and utilized it to get away. Several chased him but he had momentum, distance, and speed.

“That’s alright,” the one man said. Portly, large, with graying hair slicked back over a predominantly bald head, he wore a flowery ‘Hawaiian’ shirt. He was in charge and spoke through guffaws, snorts, and snickers. “Billy gave him a gift. Ain’t that right, Billy?”

“That’s right.” Billy was a lean young man in tight blue denim pants just entering the lobby.

“What was the gift?” a third asked.

The leader said, “A concoction of chemicals that’ll at least make him sick enough to wish himself dead, if he doesn’t die from it.”

We don’t know what happened to our man, whose name was never given. He didn’t make another dream appearance. Instead, his traveling mate, the woman, came in. Dressed in a suit, she had several tall, large men in suits accompanying her. Holding up a badge, she identified herself as a police officer. She’d been working undercover to get evidence on their operation and now arrested them for multiple crimes, including poisoning people. She revealed that she’d come back after them because they’d poisoned her on a previous visit.

The dream began scrambling at that point but I have a sense that the final piece was a report that the man who’d been with her was found by a patrol car.

Dream movie end.

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The Writing Class Dream

Couldn’t tell what my age was in this, as I never ‘saw’ me. Most of the dream was presented in compacted segments, which gave background info. I was in a packed writing class. I’d gone from being cold and aloof with my classmates to being cheerier and friendlier. We were toward the course’s end. I was panicking because a big assignment was due. The theme was, what’s it like to be a writer? I hadn’t started mine. In fact, I lacked a plan. Meanwhile, other students had developed theirs, and presentations were underway. Another writer, who hadn’t impressed me in the class to date, gave his presentation. Wow, the imagination and cleverness in the multimedia concept he employed blew me away. A few other students presented, and they were okay, serviceable but not special. The teacher — a teacher I took creative writing classes with in Germany thirty plus years ago — gave her energetic presentation. I didn’t quit grasp her point as she used a rake, shovel, and broom, dashing around. I thought about doing a silent presentation, walking around, observing others, staring at the sky, scribbling notes, pecking on a keyboard, but that seemed so basic and trite. I kept coming up and rejecting ideas. Meanwhile, other students crowded closer to me. One female sitting to my right said to me, “I’m really looking forward to your presentation. You’re so talented.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but don’t expected too much. I still don’t know what I’m going to do.”

She answered, “Oh, I’m not worried. You’ll come up with something. You always do.”

While her belief injected some hope, I still miserably searched for an idea as another student gave their presentation, walking around looking at things and writing in a notepad. I felt sick.

Dream end.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

It’s midweek. Wednesday. And half of March of 2022 has passed on. It’s now the 16th. The news is pretty much the same. War is going on. Russia is being expelled from organizations. Threats are being aired. Trump issued a statement full of lies that have been repeatedly debunked. But he can’t change his nature as a liar. And people still believe him. Look up to him, etc. Meanwhile, another strong quake hit Japan and tsunami warnings were issued. Just what’s needed to feed our anxiety fatigue.

The Earth kept spinning. The sun ‘came up’ and will ‘set’ again, 7:21 AM and 7:18 PM, respectively. Almost to twelve hours of daylight here, and I feel it, brothers and sisters. The temperature is now 37 F but we expect 67 F today. While yesterday gave us slashes of rain followed by shocks of sunlight, today’s clouds hoover like faded giants on our northwest horizon. It’s sunny, people.

A wide range of songs are being played by the neuron jockeys in today’s morning mental music stream. I’m going with the Yes cover of Paul Simon’s “America” from 1972. Friends did not get this one; everyone I knew at that point asked with different degrees of doubt, suspicion, and surprise, “Do you like this?” It wasn’t until I met Scott a year later, in another state, another school, that I discovered another person who knew it and liked it. This particular version is an intriguing recording of them recording the song in the studio. Wonderful seeing that talent at work in such young people.

Hope you like it, and the sun is shining for you, and you’re safe, healthy, and happy somewhere. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask as needed, when needed, and get the vax and boosters. I’m off to coffee so I have a fresh cup while listening to the song. Then back to writing’s sanctuary, where the madness is cranking up. Cheers

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The Red Shot Dream

This was such a persistently powerful dream last night. I awoke from it twice in befuddlement, sure that I’d forgotten to do something that had to do with my shots. When was I supposed to take them? There was a sequence. But wait —

In the dream, only women were originally receiving the shots. They were happy about it. We were all walking around outside, following neat sidewalks in sunshine. The shots were self-injected. A red powder in a miniature Erlenmeyer flask, I don’t know what it combatted. The injections needed to be given in a specific time sequence that was established by people’s DNA, age, and where they lived. As the women went about, happily self-injecting, I joined a hue: “Why aren’t men being injected?” The problem, whatever it was, affected everyone. It didn’t make sense for half of the population to get it and not the other half.

The powers agreed and decreed everyone should receive the shots. I was given my flasks of powder and told my injection schedule.

That’s when I awoke. Sitting up, I peered about for my flasks and tried remembering my schedule. When was I supposed to give myself the next injection? In three hours? What time would that be?

As I realized all that was a dream, I calmed and thought of the dream, then went back to sleep. And — boom — shortly thereafter, I was awake and thinking, what was I supposed to do? Where are my injections?

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An Odd Dream – Work, Car, and Cat

Yes, another odd dream.

First, I had an odd job as some sort of quality assurance or quality control inspector. Those dream job details never cleared enough for me to figure out. Guess it wasn’t important.

I was working in a small, old building where a business was undergoing renovation. It had been a coffee shop. Coffee drinks were still available, so I was happy with that as I walk around with my clipboard, observing and scribbling notes. The business owner, a man, was there, talking about the planned changes. He was in high spirits; so was I, and the few other people in there. When the business owner mentioned that he needed some minor help, I happily volunteered.

Then I learned that he wasn’t going to re-open his business as a coffee shop but as a fitness center. He went around enthusing where equipment would be located, where different fitness stations would be, fitness services that he would be offering. Well, good for him, but…I wanted my coffee shop. I was disappointed.

Meanwhile, my wife came by. She said that our car, a Volkswagen Beetle, wasn’t uninsured, but she was waiting for a call that would take care of that. (Please note, I’ve never owned a Beetle.) I was like, okay. She left again, errands to run. I continued my vague inspection job.

The business owner mentioned that he needed a car, did anyone have one that he could borrow? I offered my VW. As he thanked me, he told me that he would be driving to another part of the city, but he would be back later, if that was okay. Remembering that the car wasn’t insured, I asked with surprise, “You’re going to drive it?” He answered, “What else would I do with a car?” And laughed.

I didn’t want him to drive the car because it wasn’t insured. However, I wanted to help him. I questioned him. Would he be careful? Has he ever had an accident? What kind of driver was he?

My wife returned. She reminded me not to use the car because it wasn’t insured. I prepared to tell her that I’d loaned it out when someone came by and told me the owner wasn’t going to use it after all.

Then, though, came word that our dog was loose. (Please note, I’ve never had a dog.) I joined my wife out in a woody, muddy field, looking for our dog. As we walked around, looking, she started calling a name. The name was of a cat who passed away twenty years ago. I asked her, “Are we looking for a dog or a cat?”

She didn’t answer, going off. I was convinced we were looking for a lost cat and not a dog. I started calling the dead cat’s name as I walked through a meadow. Another cat came running across the meadow with its tail up, meowing at me. It didn’t resemble the dead cat at all, but I knew it was my pet. The deceased animal was a short-hair gray tabby, and the approaching cat was white with a torti ear and matching torti tail. Before the cat reached me, I turned and stepped back into the coffee shop under renovation to answer some questions about my work.

Dream end

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The Celebration Dream/The Cave

This is a twofer. Like a dream medley. To the first.

It was a bizarre sort of celebration. I knew these people in the dream. Some of them were television characters. But none are people from my real life.

We were celebrating in the woods after working on something. Details of why we celebrated are unclear. It almost seemed spontaneous. We’d finished our work and were lounging along a gravel road. All were sweaty and dirty in assorted jeans and tee shirts. All were happy. Someone arrived with beer. Hurray! Let’s all have some beer. Beer was passed out. Someone mentioned some food would be nice. A large brown bag was beside me. I was told to reach into the bag, see what was there. Well, food was there! I passed it out according to requests — candies, chips, sandwiches. Just as we thought we were out of beer and food, more would arrive. So it went for a while.

People slowly took their leave until three of us remained. A woman, me, and a man. The man was tall, white, lanky, short hair, and wore prescription glasses. The woman was short, with tight blonde hair. The woman said that she was going off to get some rope. I gleaned that we meant to explore a cave. Nervousness set in. We didn’t have flashlights. Nor rope. Knew nothing about caves. But, we thought something was in the cave that made it worth exploring.

So the woman drove off in a red jeep. The man restlessly paced. I waited, fidgeting, wondering when she would get back, sometimes leaning across trees, sometimes walking around. The man decided that he was going to ‘pop into a hole’. The hole was part of the cave system. I didn’t think that was a good idea. Tried talking him out of it. But lanky man was insistent. Dismissed all my worries. He was just going into the hole. No, he didn’t have a flashlight but he had his phone.

This sounded like all kinds of bad to me but he proceeded. Went down into the hole, a rough circle in the ground. After lowering himself as far as he could, he hung, then dropped. He was about ten feet down. Too far for me to help him. I peered down in the hole, watching as he turned in study. He was making comments. Then he walked off.

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” I asked him. Basically, he replied that he was exploring. Then he went silent. Out of sight. I shouted down for him; no reply. Anxiety was taking over me.

The woman in the jeep returned. She had flashlights. Rope. I told her what lanky man had done. She was aghast. Called down the hole for him. We began trying to figure out how to secure ourselves and go in to look for him. But she was worried. She knew something of the caves. Knew that they were complicated, uneven, and extensive, with unexpected vertical shafts. We feared that lanky man had fallen into one of the shafts and was injured, maybe unconscious. But the only way we could know was to get in there.

But he’d taken his phone. I called it. It rang from immediately down in the hole. Like he’d left it there. The woman had me tie the rope around her waist. I tied the other end to the Jeep. I was going to lower her so she could look for lanky. We discovered that she couldn’t fit in the hole. I would need to go down. The rope was tied around my waist. I prepared to go down.

Lanky man suddenly appeared on the scene. He’d found an exit. Had left the cave but got lost coming back here.

Dream end.

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