Busy Dreams

So much happened in dreams last night. Putting it all together…well, I probably failed that. But, here goes.

My wife and I were in a new car, a small vehicle, made of gold. I was driving, and the car pleased me. I was very happy with my new acquisition.

My wife was in the passenger seat and there were two people in the back. We were going through a tunnel, perhaps exiting a parking complex. She told me that I’d missed the turn. I couldn’t turn the car around, so I backed up. Not able to see where I was going, I hit a support pillar with the car. This upset me, but we kept going. When I finally parked, I checked the bumper for damage. There was none.

After parking, my wife and a friend were going shopping. I decided to check into a hotel. But first, I spoke with Jerry.

I haven’t seen Jerry since 1977. We were stationed together at Wright-Patterson AFB in Ohio. Smoking a cigarette (as he often did back then), he was laughing and talking about how he’d changed. “I used to be a survivalist. You wouldn’t believe the stuff that I had.”

Laughing, I said, “I find that hard to believe, knowing you.”

Dead serious, he replied, “You don’t know me. You think you do, but you don’t.”

I went into my hotel room, got into bed and went to sleep. A while later, noises in the room awoke me. It was Jerry’s wife. She said, “Hey, do you need anything, baby?”

I said, “I need you. Get into bed with me.”

She said, “No.”

Shrugging, I sat up in bed. Her long dark hair was now a short bob. Looking right, I saw a pile of hair on the floor. “Have you been in here cutting your hair?”

“Yes.”

“While I was sleeping?”

“Of course.”

My wife rushed through the room. I realized that she was going shopping again.

I dressed and hurried to work. When I arrived, I found hundreds of people milling around, waiting for something to start. The man in charge gave me several lists. “There are forty possibilities in here. You need to match them up from the different sources so that we have the information we need.”

Looking at the lists, I saw that many were printouts, but some were newspaper articles. Some had circles in red markers, but others were highlighted in orange. Another man came up to help me.

“Can you do it?” the man in charge asked.

“Yes.” I was confident that I could. He left, and I got busy. It soon became apparent that the information was more difficult to sort and mass than I realized. He expected results for forty but there were hundreds or thousands of possibilities. I struggled with finding a scalable way to do it.

The man with me said, “It can’t be done.”

“Yes, it can,” I replied.

The man in charge came up. “How’s it coming? Are you almost done?”

“No,” my helper said. “Far from it. I don’t think it can be done.” He and the man in charge argued.

I said, “I can do it. Give me time and space.”

The man in charge said, “Okay, we’re counting on you.”

End of dreams.

 

 

 

The Flagman Dream

I spent a lot of time thinking about this one. 

To begin…I’m in some ill-defined place (think of petroleum jelly smeared across a camera lens and you have a sense) that’s green, white and black (think white sidewalks and buildings (maybe), and a grassy pitch) (I think the ‘black’ were dark windows, but I’m not pos). It’s a big, noisy crowd, and I’m with a small group in this rowdy crowd. It reminded me of a Pink Floyd concert I went to in Germany back in the late eighties, where one hundred thousand people swallowed my group of five.

We’re meeting others, laughing and having fun, when I see a man off to one side raise and lower a flag. It happens so fast on my vision’s edge that I’m not certain that I saw it. I’m momentarily at a loss, wanting to continue what I was doing versus going to check on the man with the flag. Why was he there? Was the flag for me?

As the dream’s events progressed (and I kept going), I thought, wait, was that a white flag or a green flag? Uncertain, I thought again, I should check, but was distracted by others, and didn’t. Then, with a start, my memory said, that was a checkered flag. But a checkered flag is used for finishing a race while a white flag is used for surrender or to warn that one lap remains. A green flag means go.

Those conflicting ideas took me out of the crowd. I needed to know which flag it was. I had to find the man with the flag and see what flag he’d waved and if it was for me. I didn’t believe it was for me. As I remembered him, I thought he should be easy to find; white, he was short with a small mustache, and was wearing a bowler hat. Someone wearing a bowler should stand out, except he’d been so short, I thought that would make it hard to find it.

Perusing that dream thinking, I saw bushes and concluded (with some excitement) that he’d been over by the bushes to the side, or maybe some bushes somewhere else. Now separated from the crowd, I hunted for bushes and then thought, go back, go back to where you were, retrace your steps and you’ll be able to find him, right? Sure, made sense. But there’d been no markers or landmarks that I could remember. My friends, who might’ve been able to help me, were nowhere in sight.

So it was that I found myself alone, unsure where I was or where I’d been, searching for something, looking for something with only a vague idea of it.

That’s where it ended.

 

Recruiting & Black Powder Dream

Fade in…

They were trying to make me a recruiter. Military? I wasn’t sure.

A friend was a well-established recruiter and something of a star. They wanted me to be like him. When he appeared in my office dream scene, he was well dressed in a navy blue business suit with tie, clean-shaven, with tight, neat hair. He said some things that I couldn’t quite follow, and others asked brief, insightful questions. He answered those, and was gone.

Afterward, the rest said, “See? That’s how it’s done. That’s what we want you to do.”

I agreed. “That’s what I want to do. But how’s it done?”

They told me that I needed to begin by dressing right. I was dressed casually in jeans and a shirt. I need to change that clothing style, and also get a haircut.

I began by trying to cut my hair. It was short in the front, but grew as a long and thick, brambly bush down my back. I couldn’t see my hair, so I was trying to cut it by using my silhouette and a mirror that showed my side profile. Using a power hedge trimmer, I managed to cut some hair but it grew back.

Don, the superstar recruiter, returned. He sat in on a pitch I made. It was okay. I sat with him in his office as he reviewed information and made a pitch. I saw that it didn’t begin with the image. The image was a culmination and result, that his hard work behind the scenes, and intense activity was what created his success. I needed to put a lot more time in.

Fade out.

I’m at a house with Mom and her husband, and other family members. The house is large and the scene is chaotic. A lot of it has to do with everyone’s schedules and the bathrooms. There are two bathrooms, one on each level. Who is using which one? Mom is getting ready to go. It’s involved. She’s dressing, but also looking for her bag.

I find Mom’s back and help her with it. She wants a gun in her back. I find one and put it in. She’s still talking about that, but I keep telling her, “Mom, it’s already in your back.” She replies, “I want a different one.”

My sister is there, advising me on what to do. I’m confused. She tells me to use a litter box to go to the bathroom, then scoop everything up, take it to the bathroom, and flush it away. Her answer exasperates me because it seems ridiculous.

“I don’t want to use the litter box. That’s another and unnecessary step. I want to just use the bathroom.”

She and her friend laugh at that, irritating me.

I go up and watch a plumber work by the front door. An old friend goes by. He’s now my brother. I tell the the plumber that my brother does the same thing that the plumber does. He replies, “Yes, I know, I taught him.”

Scene shift. For some reason, I’m in a robe, in a tub, on wheels. The skin on my entire body is covered what seems to be blackface. It’s a powder, not a grease or lotion. As I rubbed it, I knew that it was sun protection.

My brother-in-law got in his car, a powder-blue Chevy convertible. I discovered that the tub was hitched to the car’s rear. As he started the car, we exchanged questions and answers about what he was doing. He was going to get the mail, it was just a short drive, and I could stay where I was. That horrified me. I didn’t want people to see me like this because they’d get the wrong idea.

Waving that off, he reversed his car. We were in a garage. He told me, “Just sit back and relax.” Then he backed the car up. The tub that I was in gently pushed the doors apart.

He backed into the sunlit driveway and the street with me in the bathtub in a robe in black powder leading the way.

I was mortified but I also enjoyed it. As promised, the drive was brief. People seemed to notice me but none seemed upset. The wind was blowing through my hair and the sun was warm and comfortable.

We pulled into the garage.

Dream end.

 

A Randy Dream

First, my buddy was there, Randy. Randy died years ago, colon cancer, just before his sixtieth birthday. He was two months older than me.

Suddenly, in my dream, he was still the hale and hardy southern boy I’d always known, a man without an ounce of remorse, but charming and polite, a rogue right out of a Faulkner novel. He was always an entertaining and generous man.

So he was in my dream, coming along as he did, naked, as he was, which was startling. Part of my conscious mind intruded, hollering, “Time out! Why is Randy, who is dead, naked in my dream?” Dream me just ordered, “Go with it, dude.”

Still, it was non-plussing to be visiting Randy at his house. Naked, he was talking and entertaining me, talkin’ about sports and music, while providing beer and hot wings.

Okay.

Sometime during the dream flow, the house spun, or I left, or Randy left. Maybe it’s just a dream gap. However and whenever, I was now out in a woods, on a hill, by a cave. I’d been walking and was sweating, so I stopped to drink some water.

I’d noticed the cave. Weeds and brambles were growing around the entrance. The entrance’s squared-off appearance made me wonder what was within, and enticed me to explore. Searching for what might be within the cave — is it a cave or an old mine? What makes me think it’s an old mine? — I entertained entering it but hesitated. One, it looked dark. Two, I didn’t have a light. Three, there might be animals within in. Four, it might collapse.

But it looked sturdy, tall, and wide. The entrance seemed to be reinforced with cut granite. Beginning to think that it was part of a train tunnel, or for cars, I looked for railroad tracks, a road, or some vestiges that could be evidence of its previous use.

While this is all happening, I’m suddenly aware a man is there. White guy, not particularly old in appearance, but still with a balding gray head and a tidy gray goatee. I thought he was was wearing a toga but then he seemed to be in a suit but without a tie. I think he was barefoot. I also wondered if he’d come out of the tunnel, but he was behind me, so I thought, no, that can’t be right. Was he there before?

I then saw a pile of railroad ties to one side, prompting, aha, this probably was built as a train tunnel. Thinking that encouraged me to want to explore the tunnel because a tunnel is safer than a cave, was the reasoning, partly because it’ll be open on the other end and lead somewhere.

The man and I hadn’t addressed one another. In fact, I had the impression that he didn’t want to be disturbed. Just something about his demeanor.

Now, though, he was approaching me. I turned polite, expectant attention his way. He was holding a gray mortar and pestle. As I took him in with some wariness, I had the impression that he was offering that to me.

Which he was. “Here, this is for you.”

“What is it?” It looked like off-white shavings. I was suspicious.

“Medicine.”

“Medicine for what?”

“For everything. It’ll cure everything. Take as much as you want.”

“Okay, don’t mind if I do.” I reached in and took with my fingertips, then pushed it into my mouth.

Randy showed up and said, “I’ll take some of that.” He then helped himself as the man shrugged and said, “Help yourself, there’s plenty here.”

The dream ended.

The Flagpole Dream

Fade in: I’m outside with others. Someone mentions a neighbor’s flagpole. That flagpole causes something to happen. I respond, “Well, they should move it, then.” There are protests about how difficult that would be, but I say, “That shouldn’t be hard. Hard, yes, but it can be done. It’ll just take some effort.”

Next up: someone announces, “We’re going to go help the neighbors.”

Cross-talk follows. I gather that the neighbor is following up on my idea to move their flagpole.

A flirtatious and vivacious middle-aged white woman with short blonde hair with highlights asks me, “Are you going to help, Michael?”

I envision digging a hole, so I shrug. “Sure. Let me get a shovel.”

Reaching ‘off stage’ I find a spade. “I’m ready.” Everyone else, about eight of us, were also ready.

“Let’s go,” the middle-aged woman says.

We walk down the street as a group. Arriving at the neighbor’s yard, we present ourselves as a small squad at attention. Our intention is announced.

The neighbor thanks us. Then he says, “Okay, thanks. Come on, Michael.”

“What?”

“Show us what we’re supposed to do.”

“Me?”

“I thought you knew how to move it.”

I think through this in the dream, readying protests, but then overcome my doubts. “Okay, sure.” I believe that I can solve any problems on the fly. “Well, first, let’s remove it from its old location.”

He shows me the silver flagpole. It seems to be brushed aluminum. As I approach it, I call to the rest, “Okay, everyone, come on over and let’s figure out how to move it.” Then I put my hands around the flagpole and give it a jerk, to test how secure it is.

I almost fall over as the flagpole comes out. Startled, I set it down. The neighbor explains, “It wasn’t fixed in place.”

“No kidding.” I look into the hole where the pole had been. It seems light, and there’s clear water. Something is swimming in there. I think it’s an eel. Stepping back with surprise, I begin to speak but the neighbor interrupts me. As he’s talking, a moray eel leaps out of the water and tries to bite his arm.

I’m shocked. It seems like the neighbor didn’t notice. Glancing around, it seems like no one saw what I did.

I tell everyone what I think I saw. As I do, an eel leaps out and tries to bite my arm. People see that. As we’re talking about what it means, the eel climbs out of the water and rests on the outside of the hole. I’m trying to understand what this means. It means danger to me, but it also means something unusual, something that needs investigated.

Engineers arrive to speak with the neighbor about where to put his flagpole. While they’re talking, I see several lobsters climb out of the hole. I’m amazed but I have no idea what’s going on.

The engineers then notice the lobsters and stop talking.

The dream ends.

A Bewildering Dream

My dream began with me searching for things, ordinary things, like canned food. The setting for it was nothing sinister or confusing. It seemed like I was in a pristine housing suburb.

Others began explaining to me that ordinary things weren’t available. Why not? Because of the invasion.

“The what?”

It had to be explained to me that aliens had invaded. Further, everyone was scavenging for supplies because everything was disappearing. I don’t know where I’d been when all of this had happened, but shrugged that off.

While accepting their explanation, I suggested we should still search for food and supplies that could help us. I was confident that we could find things even though everyone else was saying, no, everything is gone.

I couldn’t believe it. There’d been a war here, an invasion? There was no evidence of it. Although I didn’t see many people — I was told that they were all in hiding — nothing was damaged. It was a lovely day, rich with sunshine and warm, fresh air. With so many abandoned houses, I was sure that we could find food and supplies. I coerced a few people into helping me.

Few supplies were to be found, though. I made people take whatever meager stuff we did find, insisting that we could find uses for them. Everyone was downcast and pessimistic; I was being upbeat.

Screams arose. The aliens were coming. People began running in fear. “I see you,” I heard a loud voice.

“Who was that?”

That was the alien giant.

I wanted to see him. He arose above houses, a huge Humpty-dumpty looking balloon. This was the alien threat? “Yes. Hide,” others answered.

Dubious, I took cover with others, ending up in an office building. Continuing to look for supplies, I discovered other people. They’d set up secret camps in abandoned offices and suites. They didn’t want to let me and my group in. “Go away. There’s no room.”

Then, “Aliens are coming.” As that alarm spread, the people in the camps blamed me. “They followed you. You revealed our position. Now we need to find somewhere new.”

Everyone started running up and down the hallways and steps. I remained confused. Who was the alien coming? Humpty-dumpty? He was too big.

“No, the other aliens.”

What? I had to see them, so I waited, lurking by a corner. They entered the hall, angular, tall, and gray, marching two by two.

Seeing them and now knowing more of the threat, I took off, seeking security. Others were still with me. I continued discovering other enclaves of people hiding. Nobody wanted to help anyone else. It dismayed me.

The gray aliens chased us outside where Humpty-dumpty called, “I see you. I’m coming to get you.” We could see him bobbing above the buildings like a giant balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Everyone scattered. There was just me and a red-headed woman now. As we talked about where we could go — she insisted that we couldn’t stay there, but I thought we could find a safe place and start a refugee camp and band together — aircraft flow over.

The alarm went up. Those were alien aircraft. They began shooting people on the ground with red rays that disintegrated them. Everyone scattered anew.

I ended up in a shopping mall, and then a gym. Everywhere I went, the warning was giving that the aliens had entered. Run! Run! People blamed me for being followed.

The woman and I ended up outside. We were running up a lush valley of tall, deep green grass. A stream ran through the valley. Above was the white cement infrastructure of a highway bridge. Others had camped out under the bridge and had fires going.

I was looking ahead, trying to learn where to go. As that happened, like it was taking place on a television screen, and I could see it all, two men ran up and grabbed the woman behind me. I didn’t know. I kept walking. Hand over her mouth, they dragged her away, then leaped onto horses and rode away. That’s when I turned around and realized that she’d been taken.

I was shocked, and I was alone. Going forward to what I thought was safety, a man came out. Half-naked, white, he had a muscular torso and shoulders. His disheveled hair was long and brown.

I said, “They took my friend.” I wanted to go back for her.

He gestured with his hand for me to follow him. I thought for a moment that he was a centaur. Then I realized that he was. As he walked, I followed. I realized that he was going to explain everything and help me.

The dream ended.

 

The Spaceship Dream

I dreamed I was in a spaceship or a space capsule. Small, it was tight with equipment. No one else seemed present.

I was excited. I was in space! That I wasn’t weightless or floating surprised me, but I dismissed that with little thought. Wanting to view the earth, space, and moon from this unique vantage, I hunted for a window. I couldn’t find a damn window anywhere. What kind of craziness is this? I wondered. Spaceships need windows.

As I turned in my search, I’d discovered that I could walk further into the spaceship. It seemed bigger than I thought. But when I didn’t find a window and turned to retrace my steps, I found that I couldn’t go back. All I could do is turn and go forward. That bothered and mystified me.

Awakening at that point, I leaped up. I’d fallen asleep in the recliner in the snug. The television was on but nothing was onscreen.

I didn’t recognize that, though. Panicking, I was trying to understand what I was supposed to be doing. Wasn’t I supposed to be doing something? I was sure that was the case. Seeing the television, though, I began understanding that I was home.

Home? That ignited new surprised panic. How did I get home? Where was the spaceship?

At last my mind grasped, that was a dream…

Thoughts

We saw the light

and thought it was fire,

held in glass

strung by a wire.

We smelled the smoke

and thought it was grass,

we felt lit

and fell on our ass.

We heard a song

and thought it was love,

we tasted tears

and thought it was salt.

We saw the light

but it was too far away.

We said, “Let’s start tomorrow.”

But tomorrow never came.

Single Words

Wind spits my tears on the window

pain

Crashing sounds of thunder light my

heart

I think of all the things I tried to say to

myself

And all the times I drank and

stopped

Were we fishes we could go swimmingly

out

Hunting warmer

air

But we are what we don’t

think

Because we know what we don’t

hear

When voices clash in my

space

And the songs strip my soul

bare

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