A Cat Dream

I was at some way station among people who I know, including a young child. It was a cozy place, a little dim inside, rain beating against tall narrow windows, mild rain battering them. A crowded place. Tables, overstuffed chairs, bookcases, brook stone fireplaces with fires going. Noisy.

Meanwhile, I’m giving the little girl a gift: a small cat. This cat is purple, white, gray, and pink. Really sweet little critter. About ten pounds. Of greatest interest, the cat has a set of controls in its side. See, the cat is a radio. It’s a live animal and it’s also a radio. I’m telling her, “Look at this. Listen.” Showing her the controls. But you can also lightly tap the cat to increase the volume, or tap it in another place to change the song.

The little girl is fascinated. Runs off. Comes back. Time and again as the cat hangs with around me, rolling around on the ground, being petted.

But there’s more! Besides the little cat, there’s a larger, almost identical purple-white-gray-pink radio cat. This one is much larger: forty to fifty pounds. And not as friendly. Or playful.

I’m playing with the little one. It’s on its back. I’m about to rub its belly. The little girl comes running up. “No! Don’t rub its belly! It doesn’t like to have its belly touched.”

I’m petting the belly, though. The little one makes a distressed meow. The big one comes running over through the crowd. Gives me an angry look and some serious tail switching. I leave off petting the little one, who gets up and rubs against me.

It’s time for me to go. I get up and dust off, look for the door, and make my way across the room.

Dream end.

Two Unheard Questions Dream

We were located in an old service station garage. Tall glass garage doors along either side. It’s raining on one side. Just splatter against the window. Through it, I can see another building. I know it’s a coffee house. I can see one person in there, a tall, slender, white, blonde woman with short, curly hair. I want to go over and have coffee. I will when I’m done, I keep telling myself.

I’m conducting two activities in parallel. In one, I’m in charge of a class where people are learning to play music to calm and relax people. Mixed in with the people learning that are people there for advice on retired life. Both are packed classes. One group is filling out paperwork and asking me questions; the other group is selecting music, playing it on radios, and asking me questions. I walk among them, helping, talking, instructing. We’re all tired. We’ve been up a long time. I’d been up over twenty-four hours. I want to go get coffee. Then go to sleep.

We’re done. Classes are finished. The class members all lie down on the floor to rest just for a few minutes. Two ask me questions, one from each class. Settling on the floor with them, I answer, “I didn’t hear your questions. Were they about music or retiring?”

The Celebration Dream/The Cave

This is a twofer. Like a dream medley. To the first.

It was a bizarre sort of celebration. I knew these people in the dream. Some of them were television characters. But none are people from my real life.

We were celebrating in the woods after working on something. Details of why we celebrated are unclear. It almost seemed spontaneous. We’d finished our work and were lounging along a gravel road. All were sweaty and dirty in assorted jeans and tee shirts. All were happy. Someone arrived with beer. Hurray! Let’s all have some beer. Beer was passed out. Someone mentioned some food would be nice. A large brown bag was beside me. I was told to reach into the bag, see what was there. Well, food was there! I passed it out according to requests — candies, chips, sandwiches. Just as we thought we were out of beer and food, more would arrive. So it went for a while.

People slowly took their leave until three of us remained. A woman, me, and a man. The man was tall, white, lanky, short hair, and wore prescription glasses. The woman was short, with tight blonde hair. The woman said that she was going off to get some rope. I gleaned that we meant to explore a cave. Nervousness set in. We didn’t have flashlights. Nor rope. Knew nothing about caves. But, we thought something was in the cave that made it worth exploring.

So the woman drove off in a red jeep. The man restlessly paced. I waited, fidgeting, wondering when she would get back, sometimes leaning across trees, sometimes walking around. The man decided that he was going to ‘pop into a hole’. The hole was part of the cave system. I didn’t think that was a good idea. Tried talking him out of it. But lanky man was insistent. Dismissed all my worries. He was just going into the hole. No, he didn’t have a flashlight but he had his phone.

This sounded like all kinds of bad to me but he proceeded. Went down into the hole, a rough circle in the ground. After lowering himself as far as he could, he hung, then dropped. He was about ten feet down. Too far for me to help him. I peered down in the hole, watching as he turned in study. He was making comments. Then he walked off.

“Where are you going? What are you doing?” I asked him. Basically, he replied that he was exploring. Then he went silent. Out of sight. I shouted down for him; no reply. Anxiety was taking over me.

The woman in the jeep returned. She had flashlights. Rope. I told her what lanky man had done. She was aghast. Called down the hole for him. We began trying to figure out how to secure ourselves and go in to look for him. But she was worried. She knew something of the caves. Knew that they were complicated, uneven, and extensive, with unexpected vertical shafts. We feared that lanky man had fallen into one of the shafts and was injured, maybe unconscious. But the only way we could know was to get in there.

But he’d taken his phone. I called it. It rang from immediately down in the hole. Like he’d left it there. The woman had me tie the rope around her waist. I tied the other end to the Jeep. I was going to lower her so she could look for lanky. We discovered that she couldn’t fit in the hole. I would need to go down. The rope was tied around my waist. I prepared to go down.

Lanky man suddenly appeared on the scene. He’d found an exit. Had left the cave but got lost coming back here.

Dream end.

The Weird Restroom Dream

Well, here we go.

My wife and I got into a car. This was a used car that she’d bought. Champagne gold color. Small four-door. Japanese manufacturer. She wanted me to drive it. I started it. The engine idled rough. I revved the engine mildly to keep it running. Looked for a choke. Figured out that the air vent in the middle also served as the engine choke. Pulled that out to adjust the idle. Then tried explaining that to her. She wouldn’t pay attention. Didn’t matter; we’d driven across a large parking lot to our destination.

My wife went off to do things. I circulated, looking for something to do. I encountered a group of women. I was young; they were the same age. One of them was immensely attractive to me. Slender. Pale white. Short bobbed dark brown hair. Mild makeup — red lipstick, a little rouge and eye shadow. She wore a black and white top and black pants. I could tell by her smile and look that my interest was reciprocated.

It was a busy place. Like a huge nightclub. We were all drinking. I was getting drunk. I kept circulating, wondering where my wife was, drinking, talking to other men — strangers — and looking for the woman with the dark hair. I’d see her and she’d see me. We’d try to meet to talk. But we never did.

I had to pee. All that drinking. I queued up with other guys to use a restroom. But it was strange. From where I was, I could see toilets not being used. I crashed the line and moved inside.

Weird, weird, weird. No toilets. Iron pedestals on legs, all painted black. I said, “I just need a urinal.” There were no urinals. No sinks. No toilets. No stalls. No piss pots or buckets. But I was certain that I’d seen toilets. Nevermind; I needed to pee.

Woman thronged the sides, watching men pee. Men were embarrassed. I decided that I didn’t care; I needed to pee. I stepped up to one of the funky pedestals. Peed beneath it. My urine was bright yellow and a strong flow. A woman circled around to peek at my junk as I peed. Another woman scolded her for being so bold; the other replied, “I don’t care, I want to see if there’s anything beneath the surface.”

I finished peeing, left, found a place to wash my hands. Then I sat and passed out. Recovering, I decided, I need to leave.

I circled around to where I’d left my brief case with my laptop and other items. The laptop and briefcase were both black. I repacked everything. I discovered I’d been walking around in black socks. I was wearing all black clothes; jeans and a shirt. I had two pairs of shoes. Both were black. Two shoes were shiny dress shoes; the others were flat black activity shoes. I decided I wanted to wear the activity shoes. I sat to put on the shoes. Talked to other men as they went by. They were telling me that they needed to leave. I was agreeing with them, telling them that I was doing the same.

I stood and looked down. Although I planned to wear the activity shoes, I was wearing the shiny dress shoes. Damn it! I sat down, untied and removed the shoes, and went to put on the others. Other people passed. One was the woman with the dark air. We chatted for a minute. I told her that I was leaving. She was disappointed. Wanted me to stay. Sorry, but I needed to go.

I stood. Looked down. I had the wrong shoes on again. Madness! I kicked those shoes off without untying them. Put them in my bag so I wouldn’t put them on again. Sat down to put on the activity shoes. Found I was putting on the dress shoes again. But stopped myself. Put on the right shoes. Joked with myself that putting on shoes shouldn’t be so hard. Packed up the dress shoes. Left.

Dream end.

Another Dream About Pennies

I dreamed about pennies again. They seem to be a recurring dream theme for me. In this particular one, I was knee deep in shiny new pennies. They were moving like the ocean. Swells of pennies rose and fell. Penny waves lapped against me and broke on my thighs.

I had a pushbroom. I was expected to push the pennies to one side. I laughed at this, saying, “This is crazy. These pennies are like water. How am I supposed to sweep them?” I kept muttering to myself about that and didn’t make much effort at sweeping them. Thinking about how new they appeared and also wanting to feel them — because they moved like water — I scooped up a handful of pennies. I looked at the date on one and saw, 2022. I began looking at as many as I could, searching for other dates. All I found was 2022.

Holding the pushbroom out to one side, I looked across the sea of pennies under a clear, dark blue sky. Far away to one side was a stretch of rising land. The sun just about them, drifting toward setting. I laughed and thought, “This is so cool.”

Another Dream of Frustration

Yes, another dream about communications. Being in the military. And technology. Except it wasn’t the US military. Wasn’t the Air Force. I was part of a different military organization. Black or very dark blue — couldn’t tell in the dream — one piece uniforms. Like coveralls. Belted. Black boots. Caps. Insignia that was made up of diamonds and stars in silver and gold on epaulets.

Some disaster was eminent. Tidal waves, storms, and flooding. Another guy and I were trying to organize stuff. He outranked me but I was asserting my ideas. It had to do with displays. What should we put on the displays? What would be most useful? A tech informed us that we could have more than one display up concurrently. How many were the max? Four. Then let’s put four up.

A vision came to me about what we could do. I became animated with the idea. Was trying to explain and sell it to the rest, especially the man in charge. My exasperation expanded. How could he not see and understand this, blah, blah? I slowed down. Became patient. He began to grasp the plan. But whereas I wanted to display information about the weather, our readiness, etc., he countered, “Let’s put information about eggs up there.”

Eggs. I was taken so far back. “Why would you put eggs up there?”

“So that everyone knows how many eggs we have,” the man in charge replied.

“Why would anyone care about eggs? We’re a military organization. There’s a storm due to hit at any minute. Why would we put information about eggs up?”

But he was insistent. The dream ended with me turning away and walking off, shaking my head.

The Zeppelin Dream

Not referring to the great rock group Led Zeppelin, nor any cover group in this. We were traveling via zeppelins. I was with others but didn’t know any of them beyond their first names. I don’t know why we were traveling or where we were going. I knew it was a zeppelin because the dream actually had a scene of conversation in which it was discussed what the vessel was. Semi-rigid. Inflated. Airship. An enormous passenger compartment with plush red seats similar to a movie theater was available.

I had a mission. I was going to raise money for refugees by selling raffle tickets. I wasn’t certain what the winner would receive; that was to be resolved, although I was doing all of this on my own. I’d made the tickets, red with black marker, by hand, and carried them in a red basket. I also had red cloth napkins. Besides this, I carried open cans of wet food for cats and animals so that I could feed any animal that I encountered. After preparing myself, I entered the passenger compartment, greeting travelers as they rushed in to find preferred seats. Someone jostled me, spilling cat food onto the ground and upsetting me. As I cleaned it up, others asked why I had open cat food, so I explained that I was feeding animals while selling raffle tickets to raise money to help refugees. When asked what the prize was, I exclaimed, “The prize can be whatever you want.”

Dream end.

The Moving-Planets Dream

Although it’s the moving-planets dream, it segued into a pants dream. That’s how I first thought of it.

We were given papers. “Follow the instructions on the papers,” we were all told. I’m not certain how many others were there. I’d guess about forty. I had an impression that I was middle-lower grade. We were doing something with planets and their orbits. Changing positions. De-conflicting paths and influences. The papers explained how to do these things. After a hesitant start, I picked up the idea and easily did my part, watching through large windows as I changed the paths and directions of gassy giants and small stones. An upper-level man came by and complimented me on my work. Told me, “You obviously have it. Go help some of the others. Some of them don’t get it.”

So I walked about, holding my paper, helping others learn how to move the planets. This was an introduction to a larger project. Once we knew how to move the planets, shift orbits, and change rotations, we were working on a larger project of aligning the planets for the most beneficial influence. By now, I’d read several people’s paper instructions. I’d learned that all were different in the details but with the same general practices and skill sets. Although my rank hadn’t changed, I was highly regarded and now considered adept at moving planets.

It was with some surprise then, followed by trepidation, when I concluded that some of the instructions were wrong. I went off and found the head guy and told him why I thought it was wrong. He decided that what I said made sense. He wanted to gather the whole group so I could explain it to them.

I agreed. Preparations were made. I decided I didn’t like my pants, so I made new ones, cutting them from cloth that I found, and then sewing them. The results were stunning. Form-fitting. Crisp creases. Neat darts and pleats. Perfect length. Cuffed. I was impressed by how my appearance improved by the change of pants.

The head guy and others came by to tell me they were ready. I had my pants on. My pants were different from everyone else’s. They stopped me and gathered around, asking, “Where did you get those pants? They’re perfect.”

“I made them,” I answered.

They were astonished. Wanted to know more. Felt the material. Had me turn so my pants could be admired from all angles. The rest of the people came in as this happened. They applauded my pants. The attention embarrassed me. With my new pants on, I was ready to explain to everyone where our plans to align the planets was amiss. I stood up to address them against a backdrop of stars and planets through tall, broad curved windows.

Dream end.

Another Kind of Flying Dream

This was a different take on flying dreams. It’s actually a segment of a large dream sequence but this part had me smiling.

So the dream heavily featured my father- and mother-in-law. Both are deceased with my MIL passing a few years ago and FIL passing in 1991, shortly after his retirement at age 65. I had a good relationship with both.

They were young in this dream and their physiques reflected their younger selves. In this dream, there was a point where they announced to my wife and I, “We’re no longer driving. We’re going to fly everywhere from now on.”

O-kaaayyy. Their announcement left their daughter and I with multiple questions. How were they planning to do this? Jump on airplanes? And what did they mean when they said —

Well, even as we were wondering about these and other aspects, my in-laws produced am airplane. Think a small Cessna. Piper Cub. Single prop. High wings. Red and white. It was clear now that they intended to fly themselves. Which defied expectations. Neither had a pilot’s license when alive. Neither had even flown many times.

But, okay. There was an announcement then that we were going to the grocery store and they were flying us. My wife and I are in the airplane with them. We’re still discussing what’s planned and how this is possible but we take off. But I’m challenging my wife, how are they going to take us to a store? So many obstacles exist, right?

My wife and I are in the back. But we’re seated backwards, facing the rear. I turn around to see what’s going on and realize, they’re going to fly down the street. Below the overpass. Past the buildings, trees, and wires.

Holy shit!

The aircraft’s rotation, yaw, and pitch are all wrong. At one point, we’re between a set of telephone wires with the aircraft nose pointing straight up. My wife and I are giddy with laughter about the affair. But they’re calm and casual up front. The in-laws land the aircraft in the store parking lot. And park us between cars.

Segment end.

A Flood Dream

A short dream, but with impact. Boxes of food were being handed out. Large boxes but not of a uniform size. Mostly brown. Although the boxes didn’t have lids, I don’t know what food was inside them.

Like others, I hurried to get a box of food. That required me to go onto a cement portico surrounded by shadowy white colonnades. The boxes were happily given out and equally happily received. After getting one box, it was suggested that I go back and try to get another one. When I went back, the person giving them out recognized me. He said, “I wouldn’t be going for these boxes, I’d be going for something to survive the flood.”

I didn’t know what flood he talked about. I accepted the box and returned to the others, puzzling over what he’d said. I told them. We debated what he meant, and how the boxes might be different, if they’re for a flood. I decided that I’d get boxes to survive a flood, just be on the safe side and went back to the issuing area. Dark brown flood waters were already to my knees at that point. No more boxes were being handed out. The people giving them out were gone.

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