Tag: Dream

Another Military Dream – Almost

I wasn’t in the military. Young again, I discovered that I’d volunteered to do something. Many others had volunteered. We were waiting for the results.

While doing that, we went into a chowhall. The place seemed chaotically organized. I decided to fix a burrito. I managed to get a plate, tortilla, beans, rice, but then could find nothing else. I was watching people select other foods but none of those foods were familiar. I eventually found some corn chips. Crunching them up, I added them to my burrito and ate it. It was not very satisfying.

An announcement was then made. I, along with others, had been chosen for a special project. We were being told that it was a great honor and we would do a wonderful job. I have no idea what that was about, although I seemed to understand it in the dream.

We were told that we had new quarters we’d be sharing. Find someplace and stake a claim.

I knew no one else there; in fact, that seemed common: no one knew anyone else. So I’d be bunking with strangers.

I entered what was indicated as available quarters. What I encountered wasn’t what I expected. The walls were painted in bright white. Furnished, it was strangely arranged and organized. Wide, tall, the floor sloped like a meadow. Different rooms were indicated via arched halls. Whole thing reminded me of a hobbit’s place.

I encountered one of the others. A tall, white guy, bald, he was in Air Force dress blues. I gawked at his medals and ribbons; they were a collection unlike any I’d ever seen.

I told him so. Abashed, he replied, “Oh, yes, they rewarded me for being part of some special projects, but they weren’t really anything.” He then explained two of them but I don’t recall those details. One was a huge, blue and white ribbon with a large gold B on it.

Needing to use a restroom, I spotted one ‘down the living room slope’. The bathroom was a small, well lit cave with a rounded entry and door. The bathroom itself was gold and pink. Strings of bright white and gold lights were attached to the arched door frame.

I went in and sat on the commode, then tried to close the door. It would not stay close. We have to fix this, I thought.

A tall, muscular black woman in green shorts and a green top pushed the door in. I told her the room was in use. Never saying anything, she left.

The door remained open. Going out, she called out to the man in the dress uniform, “I can give you three four eight for seven. That should get you there.”

Leaving the room, I did up my clothes and asked in general, “What’s that mean?”

Dream end.  

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The Aircraft Learning Dream

I was traveling again, a younger person but adult. With many others, all strangers. Most of them were traveling in groups.

I was traveling light, with just a few things. It was cold, kind of dark, as we headed from one classroom to our next one: a jet aircraft.

The jet was spacious and well-lit, with many halls, classrooms, and lounging areas. People rushed around, hurrying to get to preferred spots. As the jet took off, I wandered around, looking for a place to sit. As I did, I would think, oh, no, I forgot something – book – which was green — phone, laptop. But then an insight would come: no, I didn’t bring it, or no, there it is, over there.

Almost all the other travelers were females. They seemed younger than me. Classes and their locations were announced. I tried to get there but found I was too late: the class was always full.

Meanwhile, people left things on their seats to save them, so I couldn’t use their seats while they were in class.

Becoming very dejected, I passed a man in the hall who asked, “Do you need a seat?”

“I do,” I replied.

“Come on,” he said with a gesture, turning away. “I can find something for you on the flight deck.”

We got up there. He explained to the crew up there what was going on. Another crew member said, “We have no problem with letting him sit up here but we just gave the seats away to others, right before you arrived.”

They all apologized and I headed away, looking to see, do I have my phone? My green book? Laptop? As I confirmed, yes, I had those things, they announced the flight was due to land soon.

Dream end.

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Another School Dream

Heading to school. Adult – roughly my current age. Driving through a dark, rainy day. It is pouring rain.

It begins with me in a car, driving. Traffic is heavy. I’m trying to get into the left-hand turn lane. A dark blue Miata is ahead, trying to get into my lane. Behind the Miata, a motorcycle is trying to also change lanes to my lane.

Patient and courteous, we work it out and go on. I turn left, then left again onto the school grounds.

Then I’m in a crowded small classroom. English lit is being taught. Other students present are famous and accomplished: movie, television, and rock stars, along with NFL players and coaches, and NASA scientists. I think, what am I doing here?

A man introduces himself as a NASA scientist. I once facilitated some NASA scientists in a team-building exercise. I struggle to remember their names. I can only tell him when and where it happened. He smiles, indulgent, but he’s not impressed.

An NFL player sitting not far from me recalls a ‘jet sweep’ play. He was blocking for the runner, and vividly remembers details. “Was the QB the runner?” I asked.

An NFL coach  joins the conversation. Using a marker, he draws up the play on a sheet of paper, describing it in detail. I’m astounded.

We break to different classes. As I walk away, I notice that my computer bag, which is black leather, feels awfully light and floppy. Damn; I left my laptop at home. I think, if I have my phone, I can still log in and do things – but no. I’ve forgotten my phone, too.

Grimacing, I think, how can I recover? Not seeing a way, I sit, hoping to be inconspicuous, realizing, if called upon, I’ll just need to explain that I screwed up and forgot my phone and laptop. I’m so mortified.

Another person sits beside me. I recognize him as someone famous. He asks, “Hey, are you alright? It looks like something is bothering you.”

I explain that I forgot my laptop and that it upset me.

The teacher, a small elderly woman, comes in and sits at a desk at the crowded class’s front. She begins talking.

Dream end.

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The Sisters Dream

I was with several of my sisters. We were all younger than now.

Don’t know where we exactly were. Outside. Mostly flat and sort of muddy to start.

I’d been off doing something and then returned, looking for them, as it was time to go. I found them by a large broken cement sewer pipe coming out of the base of a dirt hill. Multiple bottles and trash was there.

One of the sisters asked, “Michael, can you help us? We want to clean up these bottles but we don’t know how.”

They had two large plastic containers with a spout on top. Way too small to put the bottles in. So I tore the top of the plastic away. They thanked me and we loaded the bottles up, often breaking them. Some bottles were already broken. As they warned me to be careful, I picked up the bottles and put them in the plastic. Then I carried those away, depositing them somewhere safe.

I was ready to go, so I began walking. My sisters were several hundred yards away. I wanted time to myself. Deciding to avoid them, I began running. My sisters called my name: I ignored them, running faster.

I crossed the muddy plain and then ended up on a highway’s wide shoulder. Traffic was heavy to my right. Dusk was coming. Left was a lot of new constructions: houses and stores were being built, but was suspended for the night.

I thought, wow, that’s a lot of construction. The construction and changes threw me off. I hadn’t been in the area for a while. Confused about where I was going, I decided to go back to my sisters.

Turning around, I gawked with some amazement. I hadn’t realized how far and fast I’d run. Running back, my speed amazed me even more.

I reached the spot where I’d last seen my sisters. They weren’t visible. I called them; no answer.

Then I found them, along with their previous husbands, and more of my family. I looked for my wife but she wasn’t there. I saw my younger sister’s ex-husband, JJ, and said hello to him, adding, “Good to see you.”

The group told me we were going to Sharon and John’s. She’s my sister and that’s her husband. Then the group kind of wandered around, dawdling. Impatient, I went to Sharon and John’s house.

It was a small place. In the dining room was a large oval, polished wood table. Arrayed in front of it on one side were three rows of seven baby highchairs. They were different colors and ages. Each had a placard on it.

I was mystified. Like, what’s going on here? Is this where they expected us – adults – to sit? We wouldn’t fit in those chairs. No, they seemed to be set up for something. Classes for children?

Then the chairs rearranged themselves. Many disappeared. Matthew Perry was seated at one of the tables. Reprising his role as Chandler Bing from “Friends”, he did a few scenes. Except, he was the size of a baby.

John came in. I said, “How was that done,” gesturing to Perry/Bing in a highchair. John explained, “Oh, that’s Matthew Perry. He was in “Friends”.”

I answered, “I know all that, but that’s not him. That’s the size of a child. Is that a puppet? Animation?” It was completely lifelike.

We went back and forth, with John explaining the same thing in almost the same ways. I kept asking questions, trying to clarify it, but never got an answer. My sister came in, interrupting us to announce that there were sandwiches in the other room.

Dream end.

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The Water Bottle Dream

Once again, I found myself younger and off at some gathering. Not huge, about one hundred people, I guess. It was some kind of bonding/teamwork thing. Don’t know who was hosting it.

I was part of management. I knew everyone there, at least casually, and some were direct co-workers or friends. Nobody was part of my real-life world.

We’d just finished eating and socializing. Clean up was underway. The undertaking was moving to a new location. Teams were going to be set up and tasks assigned.

As I was familiar with what was happening, I urge everyone to go on while I cleaned up and supervised that aspect. Finishing up, I found a bottle of plastic water. Drinking from it, I headed down to join the rest.

Everyone was scattered in a sort of ornate, fancy hotel lobby. I wandered through, eyeing the groups, listening to the chatter, drinking water from the bottle.

A woman at a podium accosted me from a podium that was up on a platform. She was young and dressed formally in a skirt but with a buttoned up blouse and jacket. I took her to be a concierge or some sort of hostess. Not knowing what she was saying, I went closer to her.

She said, “Wouldn’t you be better off drinking that water somewhere else?”

I didn’t respond. I realized that she thought that I didn’t belong there.

Feeling feisty and amused, I asked, “What did you say?”

Smirking, she leaned forward and looked down at me. First she repeated what she said before. Then she elaborated, “Maybe you have a home you can go to to drink your water.”

Grinning, I drank water and replied, “I like it here. Why shouldn’t I drink it here.”

Lowering her volume, she explained, “You don’t seem to appear like you belong here.”

“Really? Where do I belong?”

Our conversation had captured my friends and co-workers’ attention. Some came over and asked, “Michael, what’s going on here?”

I smiled, almost laughing, as I saw the concierge realize that I was part of that group.

Dream end.

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The CIA Dream

I was working in marketing again, as I had for several years in real life. I was about the same age as well, early 40s, after retiring from the military.

Just returning from a long trade show, I went to my office and opened my cabinets to put things away. There I found that someone had been delivering food to me! Much of it were three by three inch cubes with Kanji on them. The wrappers were white, with either a red, green, or blue.

They totally mystified me. I questioned others, where did the food come from? Who brought them? No one could say.

I figured out through examination that the colors on the cubes represented fish, beef, or dairy. That amused me but needing my space, I began clearing them out.

Next I found bags of candy. Like WTF? Then cans of soup and containers of melted ice cream.

I couldn’t believe it. Why would someone put that in my cabinet?

A female co-worker came by and explained that the same thing had happened to her. It was part of some lunch program. We didn’t go in to get our food, so they delivered them to us. We weren’t there, so they put them away for us.

“But ice cream?” I protested. “That doesn’t make sense. Also, how much food do they think I need? There must be weeks worth.”

I was amused more than I was angry.

While I was cleaning, basically trying to do with this food, I kept getting summoned to meetings or interrupted by people coming by.

Two of the people who came by were CIA agents. Or so they said.

Male, dressed in suits, with ties. They wanted a favor.

Something was being installed. It was down on the ground floor, outside. They gave me a red and white placard. A white 5 was in the middle.

“Just put this on the cover of what they make. That’s all you need to do.”

Sure. Why not? Made no sense but did I care? Not really. I was too busy with other things to wonder about this strange venture.

Resuming my cleaning, I was almost done when two more men – white, in suits – stopped by. They identified themselves as part of the CIA. These two wore sunglasses.

I wondered, is this a joke?

One explained, “There is new construction being completed downstairs.”

The other held up a white thing. Basically resembled a white tent peg. “We want you to put this about a foot behind the construction, about a foot to the right. That’s all you need to do. We’ll do the rest.”

I repeated all that because it made no sense.

Then I asked, why are you asking me to do this?

“We’ve seen your records,” the first said, as if that explained everything.

I figured he meant my military records, and all those security clearances, and just accepted it.

Later, I did what the two pairs of agents asked. Privately, kind of secretly, ensuring no one was around to witness it.

Then I laughed as I walked away.

Dream end.

1

Randy & the General Dream

I was back in the military. One of my people, Randy, a friend, was chosen for a special honor. He was very nervous.

I told him, “Relax, there’s nothing to worry about. You’ll do great.” I then promised to circle back around but I had dozens of things to attend so I kept moving.

Somebody caught me and asked me if it was true that Randy had been selected for the honor. Yes, I confirmed. Did I have anything to do with it, I was asked. Yes, I answered, I nominated him and wrote up the nomination.

Leaving them, I checked on another task. A young officer was selected for a risky mission. I went by to see him and ask if I needed anything. He thanked me for my part in getting him the assignment because he knew I had something to do with it. Laughing, I joked, “Oh, no, don’t try to pin this on me,” and moved on.

After going by some other places, I returned to Randy. More details were emerging. He’d been sitting in a stadium full of people. A spotlight and camera would be on him.

I again assured him that he’d be fine. He then put on a black sports jacket. He told me, “I hate wearing things like this.”

I answered, “You’ll be fine. It’s just for a short time. Besides, it makes you look skinnier.”

He laughed and swore at me.

Time for me to leave. I headed for the exit, still with many things to do. A one star – brigadier general – tall, white, skinny – stopped me. I didn’t know him.

He explained that he’d heard that I’d supported the officer’s request for the assignment.

“Yes,” I replied. “I talked to him and he wanted it.”

The general said, “But it’s risky.”

“I know,” I said.

The general went on, “It took a lot of courage for you to agree with him going.”

“It did,” I agreed.

Thinking the conversation over, I went to move past him.

The general apparently thought I wanted a hug. When I realized that, I reciprocated the hug but I found it very strange. We ended up in an awkward half embrace that was made worse because he was much taller than him. When I looked up at his face, I was surprised that he was teary eye.

We broke the hug. I began moving on.

Dream end.

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The Rabbit Dream

I was at an outdoor gathering with others. None were ‘real-life’ friends. I knew them casually in the dream, as we’d just completed some kind of training or gathering.

Setup was very casual, and I was much young then my RL age. Just wrapping up, I received notifications and tickets about my travel plans. I glanced at them but didn’t read them deeply, just making myself aware of what they were.

Walking across a large swath of grass towards where the others were with food, grill, picnic tables, I came across a large brown rabbit. It was watching me as I walked by, and I realized, oh, it’s hungry.

So I said, “Are you hungry?”

Wagging it tail, it hopped toward me.

I chuckled to myself. “Why, you’re just like a cat or a dog, aren’t you?” Then, walking on, I added, “Wait here. I’ll get you something to eat.”

The others were sitting around the tables, bullshitting. We’d eaten earlier. I was trying to figure out, what does a rabbit eat? But I knew what a rabbit ate; I didn’t see anything like that on the table or grill. I only saw buns and cookies. Then I did notice a little salad left.

I casually picked up a few things, including a cookie, not wanting to share with the others that I was feeding the rabbit. The rabbit jumped up on the table and began eating.

Pretending to be upset, I chided the rabbit, “Get down off the table, you’re not supposed to be eating that.”

But I thought, that’s what I’ll give the rabbit to eat.

The rabbit jumped down. One of the guys there said, “You were going to feed that rabbit, weren’t you?”

I denied it, but he went on, “You were going to give him that cookie.”

Shrugging, I replied, “So what if I was?”

Giving the rabbit food, I walked away. Remembering my tickets, I pulled them out to check the details. Everything was washed out by water spots.

For a moment, I thought, how did that happen?

Then I was angry about it. One of the others walked past and asked, “How’s it going?”

I explained what had happened, showing my tickets. They said, “Same thing happened to me. What are you going to do?”

I replied, “I’ll just go to the airport. There will be someone there who can help me.” Shrugging, I thought, there could also be an administrator here who could help.

As I began looking around, trying to figure out where to go to find the administrator, the dream ended. 

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A Dad Leak Dream

There was a leak in the bathroom.

A thick tube of clear water spurted out of the wall. White tiles had been removed above the tub about five feet up. Oh, dear, what a mess, with some black fuzzy thing happening in the opening.

A trio of engineers, casually dressed, of different styles, heights, ages, one woman, two men, came in on behalf of the townhouse association. Because this wasn’t unique to this townhouse. It’d happened throughout the complex. This trio was going unit to unit to assess and strategize. I was just watching them from back by the door, listening as they ignored me. The spoke of how to fix it, what must be done.

Leaving, I headed across a common through sunshine to my own townhouse because, hey, that had been my father’s place, which slightly changed everything. He wasn’t there to look after it, so I was acting on his behalf.

I entered my own townhouse where the same problem existed but seemed to be on a much smaller scale. Some wall had been removed from the bathroom to the right which didn’t seem to have anything to do with the leak. I didn’t understand what that was about but I knew where to go for explanation.

I sought that women and this little rotund blonde explained something that kind of made sense and eased my anxieties. Going off again, I found I had a broken arm. No, not broken, just not working right. I’d been advised to keep it in a sling. I didn’t have a sling, so I fashioned one, and then modified it again and again, decided this was a good place to keep things, like my wallet, keys, and glasses.

So I tucked them in but then needed more material, so I added other things, and reshaped it, and reshaped it. People were going past as I did this and I turned away, trying to keep things private.

I decided to call my stepmother to tell her about Dad’s townhouse. Then I realized that Dad was dead and this was a dream. That I had actually a dream in a dream, and that the townhouse with the plumbing problem wasn’t real.

But I called my stepmother. I said, “I was thinking about Dad because it’s his birthday.” Then I realized, that’s not right. I said, “No, because it was my birthday.”

She was talking but it came to me, this call isn’t happening; it’s also a dream.

I awoke.

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