A rusty, fog-like orange hue enveloped this entire dream. My wife and I were moving. Another couple was involved. I suspect they were moving at the same time. In honestly, looking back, I believe they were another version of us sharing the dream. Plans were made. How we can move. When. Where. A specific day was selected. We went to the place. Then I discovered, my wife had an appointment for that day and place. She wouldn’t be able to help with the move. Neither would the couple because they were going with her.
I didn’t understand how such a miscommunication could happen. We’re planning a move for that day and she makes an appointment. Yes, I was angry.
We arrived at the place. My wife was driving. There was a huge, steep hill paved with bricks. She drove herself and the couple up it; I walked up it, a strenuous task. A man at the top who helped run things there couldn’t believe that I’d walked up that hill. That I’d kept up with the car. “I don’t believe anyone has ever done that.” He laughed. Because it was a silly statement. People were probably doing it all the time without him noticing.
They went to the appointment. Promises to come back and help — the next day — were given. My exasperation exploded. But I needed to do what I could. I’d come here to move; that’s what I would do. Others were there, eyeing me, asking if everything was okay, if I needed help. I assured all that I was fine. I collected items that were trash, putting them into a bag. Sometimes, some of the others would come by. I’d tell them what it’s the bag and they’d take it with them. About this time or so, “Lido” by Boz Scaggs began playing. It would play through the rest of the dream. I sometimes sang along with it.
To get rid of the trash bag, I climbed up to a chute. I would put the large trash bag into the chute and ride down with it. I did that, arriving out of the chute with the bag as my wife and the other couple returned in the car. At that point, we all realized that I’d almost finished moving our things. We just needed to get into the car and drive to the new location.
Dreamed I was on an installation that almost felt like an army place. No weapons or anything. But institutionalized structures. Parade grounds.
Me and others. All male. All green. In green uniforms. Like toy army soldiers. I was a small boy. Chubby-cheeked. But green. I learned panic was roiling the place. A large statue had taken up life and grown taller. Men, including my father, were discussing this. “What do you think he wants?”
“He might be angry.”
“I’m sure he’s angry.”
“Of course he’s angry.”
“We have to find out what he wants.”
“I’m sure he’ll let us now.”
“Huge doesn’t begin to cover it.”
Somehow, thinking of the green giant statue — for that’s what it was, one of us, made into a statue at some time, now come to life but much larger — I was doing math and trying to tell them, it’s easy to know how big he is. It’s multiples of seven. He was a three-quarter replica. The original was twenty-eight feet. So the statue was twenty-one feet. Now he’d grown to three times that size when he came to life. I knew that, I thought, because it was he was three/fourths of what of the original. So he was now three times taller. Dream logic, right?
I was trying to tell them, the statue was sixty-three feet tall. That he was hollow. I knew because the statue was hollow. All were hollow metal. Anything else would have been prohibitive. The statue had been made, piece by piece welded onto a frame and then shaped. Bronze, I thought, stained green. Green bronze.
They were not listening to me. Other boys and I commiserated. Fathers. Never listening. Never hearing.
The giant green statue strode into view. Towered over us. Threatening with a scowl. Contemptuous. I kept saying, “Just ask him what he wants.”
Dad called me in my dream. Told me that he wanted me to be more like I used to be. “How was that?” I asked. “Silly. Goofy. Fun-loving,” he answered.
I didn’t know I’d changed. A lot was happening in dream world, so I ended the call. Part of what was happening were politicians making speeches. One was a woman. POC. Married to a white male with silver hair. Hubby was pretty much an idiot. He marched up and down the street making ludicrous announcements. I kept thinking, no, that’s not right. I heard the pol state, “I think I’m just about done with him.”
Meanwhile, I was going around my compound. Showing it off. Explaining that I had plenty of room for a number of people to love. I had seventeen homes. Most were new. Brick. Two stories. Large yards. All set off asphalt streets.
So I’m involved, walking around, telling people about the houses, showing them what is what, talking to the pols, when Dad calls again. In the middle of doing multiple things, I answered the phone in a silly way, like, “Hello, this is Michael, unsecure line, U.S. Air Force.” As I’m speaking, I thinking, that’s wrong, what am I saying?
It was Dad. He was laughing. “That’s more like it. That’s how you used to be.”
We discuss that for a few. Then he says, “You should get military veterans to help you.”
I reply, “I have some.”
Then, like that, Dad and I are walking toward one another, hanging up our phones, as I point out veterans and tell him, “I have all kinds of veteran helping me take care of people and the houses. They’re all volunteers.”
Dad replies, “Well, that’s good. It looks like you have it all taken care of.”
This dream held so many elements. They happened in parallel but I broke them out to think about each nugget.
- I was preparing to travel and return home. I was visiting Mom and other my sisters in the east. Throughout, I was trying to determine what time I needed to leave. I was driving and flying. As I thought about when I was leaving, I thought in terms of minutes and had a stack of dimes. Each dime represented one minute. Did I have enough dimes? Stacking them, I had more than enough.
- My youngest sister (often referred to as my ‘littlest’ century, though she’s been alive for over half a century and have two sons in their teens) and her friend were missing. They’d gone on a walk. A storm was coming in and hours had gone by. As time passed and our worries increased, I tried calling her on her phone and sending her text messages. By the end, the messages were, “Call when you get this. We’re worried.”
- I’d bought land on top of cliffs. Located on the coast, growing ocean waves were pummeling it. I was thinking about building a seawall on top of it to protect it. I had a view out my window of the cliffs and the waves, which were about a half mile away.
- My car was located in a parking garage with others’ cars. At one point, heavy machinery came by and started tearing the parking structure down. Accosting the foreman, I said with some outrage, “My car is parked in that structure in a lower level, along with others.” The others had come out and were nodding and agreeing. The foreman mocked and laughed us while talking about how strong the structure was, that nothing would happen to our cars on the lower decks, but he stopped further activity and walked off looking concerned.
- Mom kept finding clothing and items left behind from other visits, such as a gray leather wallet, a black belt, and a pale gray sports coat. The coat was so pale, it was almost white. As I collected these things, I was trying to fit them into my luggage. Remembering the jacket, I decided that I would wear it on my travels home. The gray wallet was in excellent shape, but was empty. I knew it was mine, however, recalling when I bought it in Korea.
- A high school friend was present. He kept making suggestions about things to do. When he came up with something, he wrote it down and dated it so it’d be documented when he’d came up with the ideas, so he’d get credit. One of the ideas he’d come up with was building a sea wall on the cliff. I’d already come up with that idea, I explained to him, but it slide off like soft butter on a hotter knife. I started writing things down, too, backdating some of them, so I had proof that I’d thought of them first.
- As I packed, I kept trying to decide where to put things and what I wanted to have on me while traveling. While I did that, I found that I had three wallets. How’d I get three wallets? What should I do with them? Having three amused me but I wasn’t surprised.
A lot to think about with this one.
I broke my arm in July and have been rehabilitating it. I’ve recently achieved doing pushups again. Proud of it, I went in and announced to my wife, “I can do pushups.”
She looked up. “For money?”
I thought about it. “Are you going to pay me?”
“No. I don’t think anyone will pay you to do pushups for money.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
I explained my purposes, but now I was a little down. I can do pushups, but nobody is paying me.
It’s like I’m working for free.
Dream activity is on the rise again. They’re mostly satisfying and comforting.
One very short dream stands out, though. It’s so short, it could be a fifteen second commercial break. Other features also stand out.
- It took place in my current home.
- I had it twice in one night.
- It was the same both times.
- I woke from it both times.
Some qualifying reasoning crowds in.
- I may have dreamed it more frequently and not remember it.
- It may have been different but my consciousness fashioned it to be the same.
My living room back door to the patio was open. A tall, young, broad brown man was walking in front of me. We were leaving the house. Although not recognized from life (qualifying it as this life, existence, dimension, plane, realm, etc.), I knew him.
Troubled by a speech impediment, he was talking but I was struggling to understand him. I said, “What?”
Stopping, he answered with exasperation, “I told you already.” He was now on my patio.
Whirling, he added with more force, “I told you already. You’re not listening, you’re not listening.”
Each time, I awoke thinking, “What am I missing?”
Located in a large office, I was busy. Although modern and plush, with room for dozens, only one other was in the office with me. We were calling into a help line. My purpose, though, was to find an assignment for someone who I could help.
I struggled with the line. Static garbled messages. I wasn’t certain if I’d reached a live voice or a recording. They couldn’t understand me, either.
After several times of calling, not frustrated, but amused and determined, I decided to go down to dispatch to talk to them in person.
Dispatch was busy and chaotic. Obviously, something had gone awry with the system. Others, thinking like me (or me, thinking like them), went down to dispatch to get assignments (and, from eavesdropping, to provide feedback and updates). Several dispatchers were busy at work behind a dark counter. Not knowing where the line began and end, or where people queued, I marched back and forth, mocking the system. That annoyed the dispatchers, who asked me to stop doing that because it distracted them. Though I found it all funny, they didn’t.
A food bar offered choices of snacks from sandwiches and salads to pizzas, hot dogs, donuts and bagels, along with coffee and tea. I checked it out but passed.
At last, with many gone, the lines finally in order, I approached the counter and was given an assignment. Pleased with that, I went off to the phones to contact the one I was supposed to help.
The dream ended.
I was moving again in last night’s dream. My home that I was selling was a large white house. Built circa the 1950s – hey, that’s when I was born – the home featured a large front porch, two sprawling sugar maple trees, and a large green yard with squared off sidewalks.
The dream’s beginning found me doing yard work. I was busy and happy. In a brief aside, I then go to work and tell a woman how to use a specific computer program to conduct a search. She’s mute during the entire exchange, leaving me doubtful about whether she understood what the search could do to save her time, or if she understand what I told her. I would check back on her.
As I returned to yard work, my wife accosted me. She needed to go to an organizing event for some activity that she was involved with, and wanted me to drive her. We argued briefly, but I resigned myself. We would take our truck, I told her, leading her to a small Ford Courier or Chevy LUV sized vehicle, in other words, a small truck. A white tarp covered the truck. When I pulled the tarp aside, I had to dump water off the tarp, and worried about the trunk having water damage. But it seemed fine. Weirdly, the trunk had no top.
I got in one side, and was awaiting my wife. Two other women got in as well. I asked them who they were, and they said that my wife told them that they could get a ride with us. I had not problem with that, but then realized I didn’t have a steering wheel because I was on the wrong side of the truck. After getting out and circling the truck, I told the woman behind the steering wheel that she needed to move. She wanted to know why. I told her that I needed the steering wheel, which made her laugh.
As I waited for her to move, I looked at my sidewalks under the sugar maples. They all ha a green hue. I worried about what caused that and then noticed that my yard needed edging.
My wife arrived, so I jumped in the truck and took off. She didn’t know where the event was, so we started aimlessly driving around. As we did, she got angry, which made me angry. She was angry because we were lost, and I was angry because she didn’t know where we were supposed to go. Eventually, I saw another woman. Pulling over, I asked her if she knew where the event was.
She showed me on a cell phone. She and I then discussed where I was. Her phone showed where I’d driven, depicting my path as a fat red line. I saw how I’d circled around the same area several times. I wasn’t far from my destination but unsure how to get there. I thought I needed to go one way, but the woman corrected me, showing me a quick, direct path on her phone. Meanwhile, my wife and the other two women had left the truck and were walking around. I called out to them that I knew where we needed to go. They finally came over.
Then I paused to go back to the woman that I’d shown how to use the search engine. She still wasn’t using it, so I showed her again. Then she seemed to understand. Feeling pleased that progress was being made, I got into the truck with my wife and the other two women and drove them to their destination.
Lot of women in this dream. I see all sorts of things percolating through my mind in this dream, and it’s very positive. It makes me smile.