Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Albertson’s had changed their store around. Sure, the dairy, produce, meat, and bakery sections were in their usual locations, but the petfood section was moved over four aisles. The diet and nutrition section seemed completely excised, and he never did find several products.
They seemed to do this several times a year, and for no reason that he understood.
My wife and I lived in a small place in this dream. It was outside and had no walls or roof. Nor, I later learned, did it have a private bathroom.
As said, it was small, tiny, really. It was all about the kitchen, dining room, and living room — without walls, which I didn’t think odd at all. Guests arrived, including cousins. Among them was one a few years younger than me who passed away in 2002 from a heart attack. He was there and in good health and I was pleased to see him. I realized that the guests meant that I needed more kitchen space. Of critical concern was that I make a place for them to make coffee and sit and enjoy the coffee — and BTW, Christmas was on the way, according to my guests. Some began putting up colored electric lights and other decorations.
I set up what I thought would suit the guests, a small, squared off space with an elaborate coffee maker on the left, and a sitting area on the right. My deceased cousin complained about it IAW his nature. I deflected his complaints with good nature. His mother arrived and made observations and suggestions. As I began explanations about the arrangements and my logic, I cut myself off. “Wait. You’re right! That would be better.” I commenced making the change.
Finishing, I stepped away from our square, wall-free, roofless, ‘home’. Around us was a park with swing sets, seesaws, and slides in use by screaming, laughing, chattering children. After surveying them, I turned and spotted two huge bears lumbering by. Worrying about the children, I turned to warn them. They’d spotted the bears. Quieting, they’d climbed bleachers and were waiting for the bears to leave. The bears left without incident.
I went to use the restroom. In dreamstyle, I turned and stepped and was upstairs in a white building. This, I knew, was a stick and wood building three stories tall. I was on the third floor in a hall. A square antechamber was on my right. I faced white doors spread out in the hall and antechamber in an odd and haphazard fashion. Black numbers labeled the doors one to five. The bathrooms, I realized. As I went to select number five, I realized there was a sixth and shifted toward it. As I did, a young woman in loose black shirt and pants accosted me, explaining that the rooms were shared and she was scheduled to use one of them to give a massage and a bath to a client. She said, “You need to reserve the room for your use.” As she talked, she crossed to a wall and took a clipboard with a yellow shirt of paper on it. “We use this to reserve the rooms. I suggest you use it as well.”
I countered with another suggestion, which were cards by the doors, which indicated if they were in use or available.
Dream end.
I dreamed my friend’s wife offered to have an affair with me. She’s not a person I know from RL. I knew her in the dream from previous visits. After this visit with my wife, she asked me to walk her home. I agreed, to be polite. She said good-bye to my wife and the woman and I began walking. As we were walking, she began singing “Close to You”. The Carpenters had a hit with the song in the last century.
I didn’t think anything of it. When we reached her place, we hugged. She didn’t release me. That’s when she proposed the affair and told me, “Wasn’t it a clue when I was singing the song?” I admitted that it wasn’t. She was very attractive and I was interested. I asked her how it would work. We ended up parting ways with a promise to see one another again.
I went to a friend’s house. Other women were there. I heard them talking about having affairs with different friends. They were apparently paying the men after they broke off the affairs. One woman said emphatically, “I give them three weeks and then I’m done with them. They want more but I won’t give them anymore.” Another woman answered, “They always want more.” I didn’t know any of these women.
I went back to my house. We were preparing to have a dinner party. I found that my wife had moved all the furniture out of one bedroom and planned to make it the master bedroom because it was larger. The house was light blue and the interior walls were white. Both bedrooms were very large and ensuite. I didn’t like the plan, reminding her that she didn’t talk with me first and that there were reasons we’d made the decisions which we had about which room was the master bedroom. She told me that her friend, who’d proposed the affair, had made the suggestion.
I went off to do a task, which was to etch a line in a glass so I could break it off and splinter it. A friend arrived for dinner and asked what I was doing. I smiled and explained, “I’m breaking glass. We need broken glass.” He replied that he thought there was an easier way to get broken glass.
The affair friend arrived. She talked me into going into another room with her where we ended up passionately kissing. Hearing a noise, we broke it off, separating and leaving the room.
I went to another friend’s house. He wasn’t there but several other friends were. They were helping him to submit a manuscript for publication. I stepped up to help, listening as the friends spoke. They said this was the last time they were helping him. As they talked, I checked out the box they were using. Opening it up, I found a poorly typed manuscript and several mailing labels. The labels weren’t affixed to anything. I commented on it, telling them that the labels needed to be fixed. They ignored me, closing the box and taping it shut. The tape was old and kept breaking and wouldn’t stick. They were still talking about how they’d tried to help him for yours and was tired of it because he didn’t seem to be making an effort. I’d been about to appeal to them for help but decided they weren’t very helpful.
Dream end.
I broke down. It was time. I knew it – I’ve known it for years. I needed new glasses.
The issues aren’t costs or worries about my eyes. I dislike taking time out of the day to go somewhere, wait for a person to see me, etc. I’m an impatient person who tries protecting my writing time and routines. I’m like a grizzly mama about those things. Writing time and routines are my cubs, to beat that simile to a final death. This is due to a lifetime of giving and serving others, what people call ‘employment’. I sacrificed my writing dream for others’ worries and concerns. This is now my time.
COVID did play a role. So did changing insurance coverage. I no longer had any vision plan. That went away when I left IBM in 2015. Putting a year to it and doing the math is a thump on the head; that much time has already passed. It is not conceivable. Seems like just yesterday that I was dragging my ass out of bed before the sunrise and logging in, calling in, and doing all the other things to ensure I was electronically tied to the company. My work for them had been remote for the final eight years. The final three, visits to company facilities were cut to nil due to slashes in travel funding.
A new optometrist was required, too, as the other one had disappeared. My wife’s friends raved about the one at Costco. I was skeptical but they said she was great. “Make sure you go to her, though, and not her father.” Okay. An appointment was made, and they were right. She was good, as far as I know. $69 for a new prescription. In and out in twenty minutes. I liked those elements.
“Well,” she said. “You have very healthy eyes and your vision has improved. You’re probably having problems with your old glasses, aren’t you?”
Yup.
“They’re way too strong for you.”
Well, that was great news. I told my wife. She seemed stunned. “Your vision is getting better?”
Yup.
She turned away, muttering something about fairness. I didn’t press. I had some idea of her comment.
I found and ordered new prescription sunglasses from Costco. Didn’t really need normal glasses, I felt. Don’t use them often. My wife muttered something else.
The glasses would cost $129, I was told after I’d gone through the process. Whoa, wait. “What about protective lenses and the reflective coating, and all that?”
“It’s all included.”
I can see so much better now with my new sunglasses, and they’re much more stylish. They’re relatively large, making my big head look a little smaller.
We all need whatever edge we can find.
I was recalled to active service, except, it was all very casual. I wasn’t required to wear a uniform or go anywhere, but I received an assignment that I was to ‘go around and check the gas stations’.
My wife was with me. All I did was drive about to gas stations. It’s unclear how I was ‘checking’ them. She left to go get on my next assignment.
She returned with the information. We went to a new house. It was fantastic, gorgeous, white with wonderful views through floor to ceiling windows. We went up steps to the second floor to explore and were talking, telling one another how lucky we were to have such a house.
A man rushed in. He identified us and then said, “You need to leave now,” in a strong, authoritative voice.
My wife asked, “What do you mean?”
He replied, “You need to evacuate RIGHT NOW.”
My wife replied with a hard nod, “Okay, we will.”
Dream end.
Looking out
And up
Listening
Thinking
Speaking
And singing
Going to weddings
Graduating school
Walking the dog
Meeting friends
And lovers
Embarking on trips
Returning home
Cooking meals
Cleaning the house
And car
Speaking on phones
Disconnecting
Eating food
Drinking coffee
Or tea
Trying to decide
What to do
Where to go
What to say
Or wear
Wondering how to respond
Questioning
When to surrender
Make a stand
Or walk away
It’s such a crossroads
This day
This time
This moment
And year
Here comes another
This was another military dream but, with twists to it that made the military component less significant.
So, yeah, in the military, young again, running a command post, killing time. I’m waiting for something to happen, so I start going through the daily logs. First, I’m superintendent and I’m expected to review and initial the logs each day. Second, the logs should reflect what checklist actions have been taken by the controllers on duty. I want to ensure they’re doing their jobs as expected when I’m not around.
I go through a bit of that, making comments. The command post is lightly busy around me, slower than a typical day, with people calling in on the radios and the telephones ringing and being answered. My mood is buoyant; whatever I’m waiting to have happen has me hopeful and excited, full of anticipation. Going through personnel rosters, I note that we’ve lost several people, which lowers the assigned total to perfectly fit all needs. That delights me to bizarre levels. Every position filled, and no one left for me to ‘find a job’ for them. Great. I go through the names, recognizing people who worked for me before, and then do a casual audit of the communication security code books on hand, ensuring they’re being properly maintained. Everything is in perfect order!
I’m abruptly changed into civilian clothes, which surprises me, but it’s a good thing, I decide, ala Martha Stewart. Then I’m looking for my dogs. I should have three. (NOTE: In RL, I’ve never owned a dog.) I find one of them. I recall the second one passed away, which saddens me. But the third, a small black Yorkie in my mind, should be there.
I begin walking around the command post, looking for the missing black dog. As I do, others question me about what I’m doing. They don’t seem to be able to comprehend my answers. As I’m responding and still looking, I see the dog bounding down a small ravine. Well, there he is, I think, happy to know that, and going after him.
I leave the command post but can’t find the ravine. I know that’s where the dog, so how do I get there? The dream ends as I’m turning in circles, trying to understand where to go to reach the dog…
I dreamed that I was in a small, well-lit bathroom over a white pedestal style porcelain sink. Watching myself from a side angle, I saw part of myself in a narrow mirror over the sink. I would go out and do something, and then return and wash my hands. My hand washing took on furious scrubbing. But as the process progressed and evolved, I learned that I had different hands. How I washed them would modify what I could do and change my personality. As I experimented with the hand washing, I was joined by people around the sink. All these were white men with white or gray hair and beards, and all were in dingy white togas. As I washed, they would comment on how I was washing my hands, which hands I was washing, and then predict the results of my hand washing. Their commentary agitated me; I thought I’d do better if I just washed my hands myself and learned the results. I eventually turned on them, telling them to leave me alone and to be quiet. They did eventually quiet but kept washing until, filled with resentment at their presence, I stopped.
My wife and I were young folks, in our twenties, in this dream, and very realistic to who we were in RL, including our clothes. She was busy with cleaning. I was tinkering with the kitchen faucet, which wasn’t going well. I’d change one thing and it would start spraying sideways. Something else would be adjusted, causing the water to shoot straight up. But I was determined: I will fix this. Yet, I was laughing, telling my wife as the water shot off in a new strange arc, “Check this out.” Unbelievable.
Surrendering to that temporarily because I thought I needed to think about what to do, I went off for more DIY. I’d noticed a younger person holding up a wall in the corner of another room. That might be something that I needed to address. I went in there and asked them about the situation. They were holding up the wall because it would fall over if they didn’t. “Let me see,” I said. “Step back.”
They did. The wall started toppling over.
The two of us jumped in and held it up. “But is it the wall coming down or just, like, wallpaper?” I asked. I thought that’s what I’d actually seen. We tentatively released the wall, confirming that it wasn’t the wall coming down, but just the cover.
Then I was arriving at work. Dressed in a suit with tie, I joined others in a small but well-lit office with lots of windows. “Hello, Michael, about time you got here,” I heard. Stepping into a small office where the voice seemed to emanate, I found the one accosting me was Jeffrey Donovan, of “Burn Notice” and other television shows and movies. “I’m your new boss,” he cheerfully informed me. “You’re working for me now.”
Then, I was arriving at work again, sighing because it seemed like I was just hear. “Hi Michael, good morning,” I heard from Donovan. WTH, why was he singling me out like that?
I arrived on a third morning and sighed. “Hello, Michael,” Donovan called out.
“It wasn’t me,” I shouted back, lying. Then I leaned in around his office door. “How did you know it’s me when you’re in here?”
“I have eyes everywhere,” he answered.
I was done with work. Instead, I was cutting grass and doing general landscaping chores. I was part of a crew of four others. One was a friend and the other two were strangers, but we all got on well. While we worked, we saw an area where another crew had worked; we scoffed at the job they’d done. We could do better.
The home’s owner, an elderly and tall, white woman with silver hair who looked and sounded like Bea Arthur, came out and complimented us on our work. We pointed out where the other crew had been and told her that we could improve it. After some back and forth, she agreed that we could the other area, too. Happy that we’d won more work, we set to work improving it.
A large pool was alongside our work area. Others were swimming. Four young men staged a race. We mocked them because we thought ourselves better swimmers. Then we wondered which of the four of us was the fastest swimmer.
The owner appeared. We asked if she minded if we had a race in her pool. “Go for it,” she answered.
We lined up in our trunks. After counting to three together, we dove in and raced to the far end. I came in second to my friend.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 