Tag: car

The Confused Writing Dream

I was in a small building where there was a small office busy with people. It had a feel that seemed lifted from a 1950s movie. They had published something. Different authors were asked to read it and express what they thought. I was one, and my response was not like everyone else’s, triggering a new path.

Yet, I was never certain what was going on. I’d read and commented on something, but it seemed vague throughout the dream. My response made them ask me attend a conference with them. An old friend, a college professor, was going, too. He and I would go together, driving across country in a big, dark blue Lincoln Continental. He prepared to go in a hectic frenzy. I seemed baffled about everything he did and confused about what was going to happen next. Yet, soon we were in the car, driving across the country through light rain.

He was driving. I said something about seeing people needing a ride and wishing we could help them. Next thing that I knew, he pulled over for a hitchhiker. The hitchhiker climbed into the back. I offered to take a turn driving but the professor insisted that he was fine.

Seeing several more people on the side of the road, he pulled over and offered them a ride. I was leery of this, feeling that we didn’t have the room, but people crammed into the car. I looked into the back seat; it looked like a small, cluttered room. A blanket covered the rear window. That was to keep out the light so people could sleep, I guessed, but worried that it was illegal and we’d be pulled over. I again offered to drive, but he dismissed the offer.

We arrived at the conference. My impression was that it was a giant flea market, although it was indoors. People selling junk seemed to cover every square foot. Moving was done slowly, carefully, patiently. Food was being sold. I was hungry but passed on getting something to eat because I was reminded that we were having a big banquet. Someone gave me cookies, which I ate.

The head, a tall and bald white, middle-aged male wearing hornrim glasses, gave a short speech. He told everyone else that I was going to write about my impressions of the article they’d published. That startled me. Everyone applauded except me. Bewilderment was overtaking me. I was to do what, when? I didn’t understand but didn’t know how to ask the question.

Then, without me doing anything, the professor told me it was time to go. I realized that it was the weekend and that he needed to be back in order to teach Monday morning. We rushed around, packing things into the car. I offered to drive, since he’d driven us out there. He agreed. The dream ended as I entered the car and put my hands on the steering wheel.

7

The Tiny Horses Dream

We began with my wife and I in a car. I was driving. We were a young couple. Our car was a tiny but new silver import. As I went to turn right, I became aware of other cars racing up around me. Unable to see them, I just stopped the car as they went past, including a small, bright red car. Several turned right up the street that I was going to use. My wife and I talked and complained about the cars. I turned right and went up the hill into a modern housing plan. We immediately saw several wrecked cars, including the red car. As we commented that there was an accident, I realized that there were many more wrecked cars, and that there hadn’t been an accident; they had been attacked.

I stopped the car, but we stayed in it. I started to call the police on my cell phone but we heard sirens growing louder. Although we thought the police would want to question us, I was more worried about our safety and drove home.

We were in our house. It was a massive but beautiful, rambling place, with several levels. Airy, well-furnished, with many windows. Very clean.

One door led downstairs where we had several suites of rooms. These connected with other people’s places. We discovered a large, strange family had purchased one of the neighboring places. They were settling in. From their clothes and accents, it seemed like they were from a rural area and had just moved to the city. Talking to a female teenager, though, I learned that her mother just retired from the Navy and had moved there to take a new job.

Meanwhile, the new family was going into our rooms that were attached to their area. A few of them began moving some of their items in our rooms. I went upstairs and talked to my wife, confirming that those were our rooms. We then found a warning written in red marker on a brown paper bag on the floor: “I CAN FIND YOU.” The writing was terrible, but we were unnerved because it was in our house. I suspected that whoever did this came in through the downstairs part that connected to neighbors’ houses. I went down to try to make it secure so no one could get in that way. I realized that I couldn’t, and complained that this was one of the house’s shortcomings. I then told the new people that they couldn’t use those rooms because they were our rooms. They were confused and this entailed some extended conversations with different people, including the mother, before they understood. One aspect was emerged was the mother had pink skin and platinum blonde hair but two of her sons were very swarthy and hairy, and her daughters seemed Hispanic. There seemed to be about ten children running around. It was very confusing.

We got into our car to go somewhere. The car was a green golfcart. Rain started falling. I drove past railroad tracks. Glancing right, I thought I saw a tiny horse. I told my wife and then started trying to turn around to see it again. Reports came to us that a tiny horse had been spotted trapped on the railroad tracks. My wife urged me to go rescue it. Rain was pouring. Although I knew the tracks were no longer used, I agreed to rescue the horse, but thought I needed to get some tools first, so we went by our place.

When we arrived at the tracks, we discovered two tiny brown horses. Located on a sidetrack used for deliveries, these horses were smaller than cats. They weren’t trapped and didn’t need rescued. They were pretty lively, as evidenced by them starting to play with a white and calico cat that showed up.

The rain had ceased. We got out of our car to watch the two tiny horses as they played with the cat.

Dream end

SIDE NOTE: I’ve dreamed about this house, a sprawling place with a downstairs that connected to several other homes, multiple times before. It’s weirdly familiar.

5

An Office Dream

I had a busy, cluttered office/room. Appearing like I was in my twenties, I seemed quite content. In this dream, I was not married. I’m not sure what my work duties and responsibilities were except they involved my computer and going to meetings. I lived on campus but sometimes had to drive to another part for work. None of my co-workers were recognized as RL people.

On this very busy day, I was wearing black jeans and a black shirt. Packing up my laptop, I drove across the campus for a meeting. When I came out, I discovered a friendly co-worker had put a black collar and leash on a young woman. The leash was tied to something. Pretty, with white skin, dark hair, in her early twenties she was dressed in a revealing two-piece outfit with black boots.

I was appalled and spoke with her. How did this happen? Who did this? I told her, I can help get you out. The collar had a key; I had a key that would work for it back in my room. I explained to her, the collar wasn’t a collar but was designed and used for something else. If she went with me, I could unlock her. Conversely, I could go, get the key, come back and unlock her.

We decided to go to my room. We walked and were there in a dream flash. She told me when she got there that she wasn’t going into my room, but she was going to walk around and show everyone what my co-worker did to her. Fair enough. I would get the key and find her.

I entered my room. My desk and stuff were gone. A different desk was in its place, along with a plush, black leather chair. A tall man and woman, both Caucasians, were there, along with a third man. The woman wore white with gold jewelry. The man wore black and had tattoos on his face and short black hair.

I exploded. “Where’s my desk? Where’s my stuff? Who did this?”

At first, the others ignored me. The third man said they didn’t know who had decided anything and didn’t know what had happened to my stuff. The tall man chided me for saying that it was ‘my room and stuff’ because, really, it belonged to the company. I took exception, because the furniture and space belonged to the company, but my personal effects and clothing were gone.

Someone suggested where my stuff was. I went there and found it. I didn’t like the change. Someone said it was a promotion, but I didn’t accept that. It seemed a lot like my original room, but I didn’t like how it’d been changed without telling me first.

Meanwhile, I found the key, went out, and tracked down the young woman. It was a very busy circular place, with many projects going on, and it took me a few minutes to find her. She was walking about, loudly telling all, look what so-and-so did because he thought it was funny. I unlocked her, then mentioned that I’d forgotten my car on the other side of the campus and needed to go get it, if she wanted to walk over there with me. She agreed. An older woman called me over. She asked me if I’d made a contract with the woman with the collar. When I answered no, she told me that I need to make such a contract to explore her emotions and ensure she’s okay after this incident. I agreed to do that.

A bunch of us set out walking, including the previously collared woman. I fell in with the tall man in black and the tall woman in white. Talking with them, I recognized them as minor celebrities. We were going to see a parade; they’d been part of the parade the previous year. They told me they were part of it this year, too, and invited me to join.

Veering off to find my car, I ended up in an auditorium on company business where I met another tall man. Seated in front of me in a plush auditorium, I realized that he’d been with the tall man and woman the previous year. He congratulated me on my powers of observation and keen memory, and then gave me his card. I hurried away because I still hadn’t picked up my car.

Going under cement culverts along street roads, I rejoined the people walking toward the parade route, including the previously collared woman. I broached the subject of the contract with her. She immediately told me she wanted nothing to do with that because she thought them a waste of time. I was relieved because I agreed.

At this point, I was in my underwear, bikini briefs. I didn’t mind because I was slender and muscular. I noticed a number of young, trim, muscular women also dressed only in underwear. I decided that I was going to skip the parade because I still needed to get my car.

The dream ended.

0

The Sister Dream

Wasn’t sure what to call this dream but the sister aspect spoke to me more in reflection.

First, it was me as a younger man with a car I once owned, a silver 1985 Mazda RX-7 SE that I bought used in California in 1991. I had parked it at a familiar convenience store in West Virginia, where I was visiting. Dream perspective changed: I looked at the parking lot with the car parked and me walking away from it, toward the store, as it could be viewed from the store’s security camera.

Another car drove up and parked on top of my car. This car was an old maroon Datsun sedan. Beater was an apt description. A young woman drove with another young woman as passenger. Both were white. They were laughing, laughing at her parking effort, laughing at being on top of my car, laughing at wrecking my car.

I stormed over there and shouted at her in my coldest, angriest voice. I told her that I owned her. I would see her in jail. Contempt crackled through every syllable. The driver sat in the car, holding the steering wheel, and crying. Her friend tried to talk me into being more compassionate, but I remained relentless. I called the police.

Scene change. I was driving the same car. A young white man drove an old white car into the side of my car.

I was livid and incredulous, thinking, the same car has been hit twice. I stalked to the offending white car, yelling at the driver. My brother-in-law showed up. He told me he’d take care of it because the driver was his son.

I was stunned. That was his son? I didn’t recognize him. My BIL went on, “Your sister just inherited some money. It should cover the damage. I’ll sign the check over to you.” He took out yellowed parchment paper and showed me the check. It was for $950. “Will that cover it?” he asked. Yes, I replied.

My BIL signed the check and then used scissor and cut it away from the rest of the document. As this happened, I wondered, who die? Who did my sister inherit this from? I saw that the document was an itemized list of household objects in large letters.

I took the check and began crying. I stood in my dream crying my eyes out. Then I decided to go see my sister.

I found my sister at home. She told me she needed a ride to get somewhere. I told her that I would give her the ride. I took her someplace. A party seemed to be going on. After dropping her off, I returned home. I awoke later in a panic because I thought I’d overslept and needed to pick up my sister and bring her home. As I rushed about, scrambling to leave, another sister asked where I was going. I told her I was going to pick up S. She replied, “She’s already home. Someone else gave her a ride.” I went to find my sister and confirm she was there. On the way, I stopped and peed in the bathroom. Then I looked in a bedroom and saw my sister asleep in a bed.

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The Port Dream

This was a dream about port, the fortified wine drink. A very expensive bottle of port had turned up missing from its crate. The owners were the U.S. government. CIA, I think. I didn’t know who took it but I quickly realized where it was. The bottle had been sent to offer samples to people at a function. I met with the agent, a blond, white male, clean shaved, tousled hair, average height, casual clothes, and relayed what I’d learned. He told me it was critical to recover that bottle. I told him that I would get it back.

A strange car journey in a Ford Thunderbird convertible (a 1965, I think, which was what my father owned) followed, a circuitous route that embraced old steel girder bridges over ravines and rivers, a bumpy, dusty lane, a winding country highway, and a modern American Interstate. I always knew where I was going but detours kept coming up. Fair weather and certainty kept me calm, though.

I arrived at the function, where a gathering of women was about to open the bottle to sample it. I intervened, telling them they’d been sent the wrong bottle and producing another bottle for their benefit. The agent arrived to take the bottle from me. We then agreed we would go to the river. A few others joined us enroute, including a female acquaintance of mine, a young white woman with a round face and a short, black bob. The agent told me to open the bottle. That confused the woman. She protested that it was supposed to be a protected bottle, according to her understanding. I replied, that was a different time. Circumstances had shifted and we were approved to open the bottle to sample it.

I turned to the agent for confirmation. After talking about it with me and thinking more, he agreed with me. We opened the bottle and poured small portions into fine, small glasses. Toasting, we drank.

Dream end.

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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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Another Mask Dream

Anyone need a dream? I had a surfeit of them last night. Convoluted and crazy. Too many to sit and remember, write, and analyze them. It would have taken hours that I don’t have. I instead stayed with one making the largest impression.

I can’t say where I was. Couldn’t make sense of it. In one part I was driving in a car with my wife. Darkness fell suddenly. The headlights didn’t go on as expected. It wasn’t a familiar car. Brown or tan sedan reminiscent of the old Chrysler K cars of the early 1980s, Lee Iacocca’s brain child. I started scrambling to find the headlight controls while verbalizing this to my spouse. Meanwhile, the ride changed from smooth to rough and bouncy. I immediately exclaimed, “We’re off the road. We need to find the road.” Seeing a clear space that could be it, thinking I’d simply veered off, I jerked the wheel left toward the opening.

We went over a hill through heavier bush and woods. Not the road! But, weirdly, POV changed; I could see the car from outside ourselves and the car, and saw that we were heading for an abandoned, weeded asphalt parking lot at the bottom of the hill. While it wasn’t where we wanted to go, it was good enough for now because I could also see that it was separated from the road we wanted by a small median strip. We could get to the parking lot, cross the strip, then drive to our destination, which I could also see in the gloomy dusk.

Now we’re in a room of some sort where we’re to wait. Narrow beds with disheveled blankets and sheets. Mine had cats burrowing through the covers as they played. A woman coming by said, “Yes, some of them have cats. Many don’t.” Okay. I asked her what to expect. She replied, “Find the script, read it, and wait.”

What? I found dog-eared and torn papers stapled together. I began reading, not sure what to expect nor why I was doing it, and thinking, that’s how life is. Meanwhile, the cats were feisty. I thought they hungry. I went about finding food for them. I found food but then couldn’t find the cats. That raised concerns about them.

Then — not sure why — I decided to fashion a mask for myself out of paper towels. I pinched out two holes for eyes and held them over my face. The white paper towels were raggedly torn. I began searching for some way to fasten them around my head but then I saw one of the cats go through.

Then, they demanded I read. Who? Why, it was the director. They’re auditioning people, trying to fill roles. Pick up one of the scripts and read. I did while holding the mask up around my face. The director loved it. Don’t practice; don’t change. Just walk forward, pick up scripts, and read them when you’re told. WTH. I was confused but decided I’d go along with it. I discovered two young actors had been cast as Romeo and Juliet. I was reading other parts. Then they would do their roles. Oh. I tossed the mask aside, feeling that it was a hindrance. A woman rushed up and told me, “No, no, the director liked that raw touch. He thought it was unusual and different and wants you to keep holding the mask as you read.”

So I went forward, holding up my mask, reading scripts when, seeing cats, and trying to feed them.

Dream end.

0

A Short Car Dream

Don’t quite know what to make of this dream. This dream was all close first-person POV. A friend was with me but I never saw them, just heard them laugh or swear. I don’t know who it was. I’d purchased a new car, a unique, exotic collectible of sorts. (I never did clearly see the car in the dream). I’d acquired it at a large outdoor option. After purchasing it, I was inside, driving it, following a similar car. The car ahead came to a stop sign. Like me, it was turning left, according to its flashing signal. Nothing was coming, but it didn’t proceed. Impatience growing, I beeped to get them to move. The driver flashed me the finger, but then drove. I pulled up to the sign. As I stopped, a second hot rod pulled up alongside me on my right, then ran the stop sign and turned left in front of me, highly pissing me.

I turned left, drove a short way, and pulled in to park in a designated slot. I saw the first driver and their parked car but didn’t comment or take action. Throngs of people were moving in both directions. After parking my car, I picked it up and started carrying it under my arm. As I did, I saw a young woman coming toward me. She had a strap around her shoulders which was attached to her car, which was hanging on her back. I said, “That’s what I need to get. I can carry my car with me and leave my hands free. I won’t even need to park. I’ll just take my car with me wherever I go.”

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Sean Connery, Me, and A Cat In A Dream

We were ordered into a car. My companion, a male, was up front in the passenger seat. Top down, the convertible car began speeding along.

I said, “Is it my imagination, or do I detect from the motion that this car is going backwards?”

No answer came. As I processed that null response, I said, “Is this a Rolls Royce?”

The driver was looking back over his shoulder. He was in the right hand front seat. Looking back as he did verified for me that we were going backwards — I couldn’t see over the sides of the car to be sure.

The driver was Sean Connery. As that registered, I debated, Sean Connery or James Bond?

I gathered that we were going backward around a cloverleaf exchange and then accelerated straight onto a highway. At that point, Connery executed a handbrake turn, reversing us 180. We now traveled in the correct position.

After a time, the car was pulled over. Telling us, “See you later,” Connery hopped out and waved good-bye.

My companion — a short, elderly white male — and I were relieved to be free of Connery and have position of our Rolls again, because we needed to turn the car in. Problem was, that wasn’t the car that was expected, and the company would be upset. We traveled back to the turn-in location where a tall, white man in a suit greeted us. After hearing our problem, he said, smiling, “No problem. I can make this go away.”

Some paperwork was processed. As that went on, I checked some physical records. These tracked my health and activities. I was shocked to discover they were marked SECRET in the standard stamp at the top. It flummoxed me to think that those innocuous records were marked secret. I then also discovered my CIA identification, a rueful reminder of the secret world I inhabited.

The tale man returned. “Slide your company card through this card reader.” I smirked at the expression, company card, but did as told. “Your bill is twenty-four dollars,” I was told. As I reacted, he added, “It’s been paid.”

My original companion and I went off in another car. Exiting the building, a young black male stopped us. “You’ll need this to get back in.” He handed us a laminated blue card with black grease pencil writing on it. As he walked off, I called out, “No, we don’t need that, we already have one.” I held our original up, showing it to him, and then flipped the other to him. It sailed like a flying disc.

He caught it without effort. “That was impressive,” I said.

He shrugged. “I do that all the time.”

“How many times a day?”

“At least three.”

That impressed me. My companion and I drove off.

Dream shift. I was on vacation, walking toward a river. Bending down as I reached the roaring, turbulent river, I rubbed a cat’s belly. Wondering who this friendly feline was, I investigated and discovered it was my own ginger mini-puma. As I talked to him, he rolled around and then stood and stretched.

I was worried. We were over a mile from home. “What are you doing here, so far from home?” I asked the cat. In response, he trotted ahead of me, as though he and I were journeying together.

The cat splashed through some water. I crossed onto a natural rock bridge. Standing over the raging white water, I saw something scything through the water ahead. I couldn’t say what it was. Then a bird attacked me. I swatted it away. Another bird then attacked. This bird latched onto my leg. As its claws dug in, I beat it until it released me. Realizing that two birds attacking me was unusual and guessed, they’re probably protecting nests in the rocks around me. With that conclusion, I hurried on.

Dream end.

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A Dream of Five Things

It was an interesting, wide-ranging dream with several friends and family members. It also included the remains of a Roman city…in California; an overdue water bill for $53 dollars; returning rental cars; and picking out seats for an airline trip.

GT, an old friend I was stationed with in another country, was visiting me. I lived in Half Moon Bay, California, as I did for several years at the century’s beginning. GT was telling me about his experience in the town. He’d felt creepy and strange, like someone was watching him.

Yes, I explained to him. That’s because Half Moon Bay is built on Roman city ruins. Everyone feels the same effect. It affects some more than others.

“Really?” GT asked.

“Yes. It’s not felt as much on the main streets but it intensifies as you go down the narrower and smaller side streets. The further you are from a well-traveled road, the stronger it becomes.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the energy, spirits, and souls of the people who lived there before us. They still live there.”

I went on to tell him all about it. I then described how other common friends had visited me and experienced the same impact. There’d been articles about it. Everyone who lived there experienced it. I had, yes.

It was time for me to go. A group of us got into our five rental cars and drove to the airport to turn them in. My car was last in line. I had one passenger; I was giving them a ride. It was night, but when we were waiting in line to return the cars, we turned off the cars’ lights and engines. We were stopped on a hill. The car was facing up it. Sitting in the dark, I worried that other cars were going to come up around that last corner and hitting us. I kept checking the mirrors. For some reason, all the cars were to be backed up. I don’t recall this being communicated, but I released the brakes, put the car in neutral, and let it roll backward. As it picked up speed, my passenger began panicking. I decided I needed to turn on the car and lights, doing that as we stopped.

Inside the terminal now, I moved forward to turn in the rental car. I approached a counter where a man informed me that I had an overdue water bill. Some back and forth followed. I learned the bill was $53 and over thirty days overdue. I wanted to pay it then and there but he wouldn’t let me. Because it was overdue, it had to be paid elsewhere, which turned out to be a counter across from his.

My wife joined me. I told her about the overdue water bill. I was upset; paying those bills were her responsibility. She surprised me by shrugging it off. She knew it was overdue. She’d not forgotten to pay it, but decided not to for her own reasons.

I boarded a wide, modern jet aircraft. Five of us, all friends, were present. Five seats, all different — some were brown leather but others were cloth — were in a half circle. One friend, a VP and former co-worker, was trying different seats, grinning as he explained that he wanted one which reclined and swiveled. I already knew what each seat did. As soon as I could, I took the seat that I wanted in the front and center. My friend was disappointed because he was still trying the seats but I ignored him. I had as much right to the seat as him, and it was the one I wanted.

The end.

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