Tag: Dream

The 95 Dream

My wife I were with others in a tall white office building. The rest of the people were strangers. We were there for testing but kept segregated in different rooms, so I had no idea how many people were present.

The way the testing went is we’d be called into the testing room in groups of six at a time. The test administrator was a tall white woman, brunette, in a lab coat, carrying a clip board, wearing glasses, a scientist stereotype. Several younger people, mostly men in their early twenties, assisted her.

Of the actual testing, I know nothing. In the dream, I’d see the door, enter, and then return. That’s it.

While milling around after the fourth test, rumors began spreading about grades. Someone, they said, scored 95. 95 was unheard of. The usual recorded high was in the upper eighties, and several were in that zone. Another person then came to me as I circulated, waiting for the next round, and said, “You’re the one who scored a 95.”

I dismissed that as rumor, pleased, but also sure that it wasn’t me with that score. I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to be let down.

Then the final two test blocks were finished and testing was completed and the head verified I’d scored a 95 and lauded me for the achievement. finishing by presenting me with a trophy.

Well, cool, I liked that but disliked all the attention. With the whole thing over, the staff began cleaning up. I rushed to use the restroom before leaving but one of the male assistants, apparently realizing what I wanted to do, rushed ahead and blocked restrooms so they couldn’t be moved. I thought was a dick move and confronted him. He and I argued. I ended by shaking my head and saying, “Your organization rewards me because of what I achieved, and then you go and pull this shit. Just shows how little that trophy and recognition really means.”

Dream end

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Monday’s Theme Music

Mood: sprummery

Today’s lifestyle is delivered to you by Monday. “Monday: always the best way to start a week.”sp

It’s 68 F and June 10, 2024. Continuing the sprummerish lead up to summer, we expect a high of 87 F. The sky presents no signs that 87 F won’t happen. Clouds are boycotting the area morning. The bluest skies are clear above the southern forested pinnacles.

I was reading the Frank Luntz piece about undecided voters and how Trump’s 34 guilty verdicts affected their voting decision. I was struck by the fact that several blamed it on President Biden. Makes no kind of fucking sense in a sane world. But to further the insanity, they suggested, what if Trump appeals his decision and wins that appeal?

Yes, quite a ‘what if’ idea, isn’t it? But it needled me to think, well, Jesus, if President Biden is so powerful that he can influence a state’s legal system and find twelve citizens that he somehow forces to call a guilty verdict, why in the world would this powerful individual not also have the appeals system sewn up? Because anyone with a tenth of an active working brain knew that Trump would appeal if found guilty. So that avenue would need to be covered, too.

Of course, several of these geniuses also speculated that it’s not much of a crime and that ‘they had been out for Trump’ since 2016.

Idiots.

Glad to get that rant out of my blood.

Also, to those who thought that they were ‘out to get Trump’, have you not followed Trump’s legal issues for the past forty years or more? Really, can you wake up and think a little?

Of course, one individual also kept saying, “It’s about the economy for me,” and was worried about inflation. He should really read some history about how we arrived at our current price levels.

Relating to nothing, BTW, did you see the news that Target, Aldi, Walgreens, and other retaillers were announcing price cuts because heir high prices were driving away customers? Really makes me fucking wonder how and why they’re suddenly able to announce that, hmmm?

Today’s music comes by way of a dream. I was awake at 5:27 this morning. Don’t know what awoke me. After hearing what sounded like four small-caliber gunshots, I checked on my floofs. Tucker was in but Papi was out on the back patio. He seemed to be watching something invisible to me but rushed in as soon as the door was ajar. As far as the shots go, morning silence resumed as if it’d never happened.

So back to bed I went, and to a dream. As I remembered it, I recalled that there was a comment made by my sister-in-law. We were at her wedding. She was marrying a guy I’d never met. Weirdly she was really tall, towering over me by about thirty inches. Anxious to get out of there, she said, “I want this done. I’m worried about the weather. Remind me to tell Becky (her daughter), I need to get through everything before the weekend.”

Okay. I brooded on that a bit, but The Neurons launched 10,000 Maniacs with “Like the Weather” from 1988 into the morning mental music stream (Trademark under the weather). I found this lovely live version. Such a mellow and reflective song.

Got my coffee soothing The Neurons. Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024 for a saner, cleaner world. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Book Dream

This was a chaotic dream, almost fractured, with abrupt shifts. It began with me running around a city. It reminded me of downtown Pittsburgh, PA, at the point, because of all the on and off ramps and intertwining roads and multiple bridges. While cars were zooming around, I was on my feet, jumping and darting from place to place.

“I need a car,” I told myself. “A vehicle, so I can get going.” At this point, my dream was giving me a heroically backlit presentation of a younger me standing on a white cement onramp looking toward the city.

With dream insights, I knew I wanted/needed a car because I had to cover a lot of ground. I was looking for books, and books could be anywhere.

This set up a set of scenes of me finding a car, driving, getting out of the car, and looking and discovering a book. It seemed like I did that a bazillion times (yeah, that might be hyperbole). The cars were always different and were sometimes a car I’d drive in real life: a ’68 Camara, signal orange ’73 Porsche 914, white ’72 BMW 2002, and a 2013 white Prius. Not always, though.

Finally, I was in a house. Not recognized from RL. Looking across the carpeted floor, I spotted something underneath a sofa. “Is that a book?” I wondered.

Walking over there, I lifted one end of the sofa and confirmed, yes, that’s a book. With a beige cover, it seemed worn and old. With some disgust, I realized that they’d been using it to prop up the sofa because a leg was missing.

I put something else in its place and dusted the book off to examine it. That’s when I found that I’d written. “I thought so,” I exclaimed, and the dream ended.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffstained

Today is Thursday, May 23, 2024.

The weather has dialed it back a scooch. Only 65 F now, we’ll peak at only 80 F today in the Churchill Valley. Thunderstorms are suggested for later today but we didn’t get within sniffy distance of them yesterday. Was supposed to rain, too. Around 4 PM, I asked Alexa when it would rain. Alexa replied, “The rain will stop in a few minutes.”

That flabbergasted me. There was naught but sunshine and some towering cumulonimbus beast. We did eventually catch rain but that was after the sun’s show had gone over the horizon.

In personal news, Mom’s first cleaning service went well. Mom and the cleaner have known one another for over 20 years, and like each other. Kathy did an impressive job. I was pleased all around.

I’ve bought my tickets to return to Ashlandia at the end of next week.

One of last night’s dream featured my wife. We were both young and healthy, as it once was. The dream triggered The Neurons’ memories. They ended up inserting “I’ll Tumble 4 Ya” into the morning mental music stream (Trademark dreamy). This was a Culture Club song. My wife likes it because it’s one of her exercise tunes, and the base of several jokes with her exercise instructor and fellow exercise mates.

Stay positive, remain strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. I have coffee spilling into the body. Here’s the video. Cheers

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The Mentoring Dream

I was out on a plaza. Foot traffic ebbed and lifted around me. Nuances of a mid-afternoon carried late spring tones. This was no place known in RL.

Though it was outside, long white marble counters offered multi-media positions. One could step up and use a computer, television, or other digital device.

It seemed like I was on a break and just meandering. A famous man approached me. Tall, white, with curly hair, he wore a black suit of a white shirt. “I want hire you,” he said, “and mentor your development.”

In a dream epiphany, I knew that’s why I was on that plaza. Thanking him for the opportunity, I asked for time to think about it. He was amenable. Handing me a zip drive, he suggested I look at the files on it for a better idea of what he’s looking for and prepare a resume to give him. I agreed.

I headed to a computer station to explore the drive. While there, a middle-aged short and slender swarthy woman with tumbling curly hair approached and basically gave me the same pitch. I asked for time to think about it. She was a little disappointed that I didn’t immediately accept and made a pitch. She told me that letting her mentor me would open doorways for me.

I was flattered but adamant. I needed time to think about it and would not be rushed. She said there was a file on the disk which was a story and asked me to rewrite it so she would have more insight into my current levels.

The woman left and my wife joined me. I told her all that happened and showed her the discs. We began looking at the contents together. Days passed in a flicker of light. The second potential mentor drifted past, eyeing me, and trying to see what I was doing. I knew that she’d wanted and expected a piece of writing that first night, but I said nothing to her.

My wife drifted away. The female mentor stepped over and asked me who my wife was. The impression struck that she didn’t know who my wife was, so I explained. The mentor responded, “She’s not included in this.”

I returned to the disk and resumed writing. The female mentor continued circling. Reminded me of birds in orbit over a dead thing. Then the male mentor returned and said, “Good job.”

The end

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Lightning in a Box Dream

A lightning storm ruled for about an hour during the night. I listened to it. Then, when I slept, I dreamed.

I was alone somewhere, standing on a surface. Under the surface, clearly seen by me from the side via a weird dream dual perspective, were outlines of boxes. The outlines was in bold black. The boxes were white inside. Empty, was my take. They weren’t attached and were haphazardly arranged.

Although it was a clear blue sky, lightning flashed. I began thinking. With bizarre dream logic, I decided that I could catch the lightning. So, the next time it flashed, I reached up and caught the bolt, easy as grabbing a string.

Next, with dream logic, I thought I should put this lightning into a box. Then I can use its energy later.

While I thought myself right, I learned by trying that most of the boxes would not take the lightning. They weren’t large enough, or were the wrong materials, even though all were the same black outline empty white things to me.

One larger box attracted my attention. Buried in the fourth level down, I thought, that’s the perfect box, just what I need. Finding a slot in the land beneath me, I fed the lightning down into my chosen box. It took the lightning and then immediately rose one level.

I concluded, okay, catch more lightning, feed it to the box, and the box will rise to where I can grab it. Meanwhile, in the dream, I’m thinking, that’s pretty cool that I can catch lightning. I also realized, wait, instead of just ignoring the other boxes, I should re-arrange them. If I do, I can create a structure that amplifies the lightning’s power for me.

That’s what I did. As I progressed, the boxes’ black outlines changed into red, green, blue, yellow, etc. The lightning box became a brilliant white gold as it filled. The dream finished with me looking down on the box as it rose above the others and began available. I felt quite powerful and satisfied with myself, as though I’d done something to complete myself.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Mood: Coffexcited

Sunshine rules Penn Hills and Monroeville this morning.

The clouds haven’t been dismissed like a MAGA claim. Oh, no. But they’re broken white and blue-grey pieces of what they once were.

This is May 8, 2024. Current temp here is 71 F. 82 F is our ceiling today.

We had a terrific thunderstorm around 1:30 AM this morning. Sky played cracked the whip with its sounds. I’d heard its soft rumbling beginnings as I was faded. Thought, what is that noise? Animal? Rain? Nope; thunder.

I listened to the storm progress and leave, then dropped into slumber land. There, the storm found its way into my dreams. Fun dreams, though. Nothing sinister or scary.

Mom had a good day yesterday. Physical therapist came by and spent time most of an hour watching her movements, talking to her, teaching her new exercises, closing with checking on the requested wheelchair and hospital bed for her. He was Jim, a nice guy. Man informed me that Jim also tends to clients in prison. I suggested that’s why Jim was selected to help Mom. A good laugh ensued.

Tonight, we attend my nephew’s final high school jazz ensemble concert. Other than that. preparations for a Mother’s Day cook-out at my sister’s house are in full bloom.

Conversations of note with Mom: she was talking about a meal her father used to make in the winters. This was a tangent from some jokes about goulash. She told me about slumgullion: ground beef, tomato sauce, macaroni or pasta, sometimes vegetables. I realized I’d eaten it throughout my life without knowing what it was called.

Another topic was the coal deliveries and the backbreaking work the boys in the household were required to do to get it into the house for its use.

It was absorbing talking to her and Frank about their youths, once again absorbing the mammoth changes in American living compared to eighty years ago. It definitely promotes speculation what people in America will be living like 80 years from now.

Today’s music comes from the dream. “Hang Fire” by the Rolling Stones was released in 1981. The Neurons released it to my morning mental music stream (Trademark stalled) after I contemplated my dreams this morning. It was a pretty good matchup. The song is a lightweight, pop offering. Not my favorite among the Stones’ offerings.

I would write about the Trump trial featuring Stormy Daniels, but I’m a little burnt out on it. I followed it live yesterday, discussing it with Mom. Now the trial has a day off, and I’m taking a day off from thinking and talking about it.

Nor do I feel especially inclined to bring up Gaza and the cease fire agreement, or the campus protests and crackdowns, politics in general, or the bad weather in some parts of the country and world. Just not up to it. More coffee is required before slipping down those muddy paths.

Stay positive, be strong, and Vote Blue in 2024. Here’s the music video offering. Look at those youngsters!

And away we go. Cheers

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An Unsettling Dream

I didn’t know what to make of this offering last night from the Dream Neurons.

It was another military dream. I was in this crowded location. Nothing about it was wholly clear. A senior NCO, I looked like myself from my last years in the military before I retired.

As I say, very crowded. Mostly officers. Mostly Air Force, but a few from the others services were present.

Narrow room. Seemed like an operations center but none of the typical comm gear and crypto was in sight.

My commander, a colonel and short, blonde woman who looked remarkably like Sandi Toksvig, cornered me. “I have to go out,” she said. “Keep an eye out for those guys.” I knew which guys she meant. They were basically rogue, either on a mission they’re weren’t supposed to be on, or away without authorized leave.

“Yes, ma’am, I will.”

“If thy show up, and we think they will, immediately call security.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She left, and I vaguely wandered about the place. It didn’t take long for the missing men to show. All were tall, young, and fit. None were in uniform.

All of my officers were pleased to see them. A generally jovial spirit emerged as my guys greeted the new guys. An impromptu party seemed in the making.

But I had to do my duty. It was going to be ugly because everyone else were overjoyed with the rogue guys’ presence. That put me in some emotional turmoil. I didn’t want to be the bad guy. But it had to be done.

So, I balked. I told the senior officer present what had transpired between the commander and me, and the directions to call security on the rogues. He listened, displeased. I finished, “I’m calling security, but I didn’t want it to be a surprise.”

He spread the news to the rest. Their expressions darkened. Sullen silence soon prevailed. I made the call.

The rogues slipped out as soon as I called. The officers immediately began disparaging me. The senior officers and a few others defended me; I was following orders. Doing my duty. That little mollified them or me.

The senior officer, one other officer, and I left for the airport. We were walking and meant to be going on some duty travel. I ran into my commander and informed her about what’d transpired. She told me, “Good job, you did what was needed.” We seperated.

I caught up with my traveling companions at the airport. It was a chaotic mess. Remaining outside we milled with others, trying to learn where to go for our flight. While that was going on, a gigantic giraffe loomed over the top of the trees.

Excited children pointed at it and shouted. I stared, incredulous. The animal was bigger than what I thought was normal for a giraffe. Also, WTF was a giraffe doing at an airport? Also, the giraffe looked fake, like it was made of aluminum and then painted. Who would do that?

We found our flight and boarded. There weren’t any seats. All of us were forced to stand. That was okay because the flight was over in an eyeblink.

We began disembarking. The senior officer sketched his plans and then asked me, “And what are you going to do?” in a booming voice.

I replied, “Whatever you need me to do, sir.”

“Do what you want. Just don’t nuke anyone.”

Weird thing to say, I thought. “I won’t, sir.”

Dream end.

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Overlapping Dreams

Dream night as busy as SFO airport on the week before Mother’s Day. All were in close third person POV, like I was outside of myself and could see me, but was focused ONLY on me.

First, there I was, being told, “Hey, you won a major prize.

Me: I did? What is it?

“A significant amount of money and famous hardware. Hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

I was very excited. Really! Can you tell me more? What did I win it for?

“You’ll find out. Just show up this morning and the details will be provided.”

This morning. That’s very short notice. I can’t make it. I’m taking my cat to the vet this morning.

“Well, the prize is waiting for you, but it won’t be there forever.”

The thing about this is it was just voices, as I’ve depicted. I saw a blue sky and a white building on a hill, but that was it. It was almost like I was just having a two-way conversation by myself.

I awoke and puzzled over that with Tucker curled up beside me. Then, back to sleep, and another dream.

I was on a curve on a road, where it crested a hill. A sniper was high on a steep hill green with trees and bushes. Shooting down on us, he was forcing us to take cover and stay still.

Walking, I came upon this happening. “What’s going on,” I demanded of my small group. I knew they were my group, but don’t recall anyone. They told me about the sniper.

I was pissed. “Shoot him. Where are our shooters?”

“They tried. They couldn’t do it.”

I scowled. “Give me a rifle.”

I peered up the hill until locating him and fired one shot. Handing the rifle back, I said, “There. Done. Was that so hard?”

I turned away as my group began talking to each other about what I’d done, very impressed about it.

Then I awoke again. I wanted to ensure I was up at 6:30. It was 4:10. Back to sleep and another dream.

I was standing by the side of a road on its shoulder. This road seemed like the same road as in the sniper dream. Also, it seemed like highway 92 in California, on the way to Half Moon Bay.

Someone said, “Hey, we need your help.”

Sounded like a male behind me. I turned, wondering, do they mean me? Before I could ask that, they pointed up a hill. (I never saw any of them but the pointing hand.) “Children are up there,” they said. “They need to be rescued. Fly up them and get them.”

I was taken back. “What makes you think I can do that? I can’t fly.”

“Yes, you can, I saw you. You just did it. You just flew in here.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

Others had gathered. I was aware of their presence but didn’t see them. It didn’t prevent several from saying, “Yes, you just flew in. I saw it, too.”

Coming around to the idea that I could fly because so many insisted that I could, I said, “Okay, I’ll try. I seriously doubt that I can.”

But that’s what I did. I flew up to the children, toddlers, and young children, none seeming like they were over six or seven years old. The speed and effortless action surprised me. I was there in a blink without wings, cape, or any kind of aid.

Unlike earlier, I saw all of the children. They seemed like they were in good health and uninjured, but inexplicably alone on a mountainside. “Who are you?” one asked.

“I’m here to rescue you,” I answered. Picking them up — like nine or ten children — in my arms, I said, “We’re going to fly down. Hang on.”

Then, blink, I’m at the bottom, putting the children down. Conversations, congratulations, and astonishment flourished around me. And then, because I could, I disappeared because I’d flown away.

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A Book Dream

A short dream recap.

I was in a room, high walls painted sky blue, tall windows which looked out over a hill which lead to a beach and see, white ceiling. ‘My book’ as I referenced it was on an old but polished dark brown table that I’d been using to write. My book was finished and had a cover which I partially saw: sky blue, yellow, with a red frame around some scene and the title in red.

I left the room and returned, finding the table gone, along with my book. I hurried back into the other room and asked what someone to tell me what had happened. I’d been half expecting the table to be taken away but having my book removed upset me. A tall, angular woman with short brown hair told me that the mover had taken the table and inadvertently took my book with it. They’re realized their error and were bringing the book back. I was looking out the window while she spoke. “There they are now,” she said, pointing out.

A helicopter was high in the sky coming toward us. This was one of those heavy lift Chinooks with two rotors. A large white lighthouse with a red tile roof dangled on a hook and cable. “Yes, I see it,” I answered and settled down to patiently arrive, and begin hearing its distinctive helicopter sound getting louder.

The helicopter arrived and lowered the lighthouse. When they finished, I went into the original room and found my book. Unfortunately, it was high on the wall and out of my reach. I searched for a ladder. None was available, so I returned to the other room and complained to the angular woman. She said, “I’ll get it moved so you can reach it.”

I went back into the other room. The book had been lowered. Standing on my toe tips and stretching fully out, I was just able to reach it. With it finally in hand, I opened the tome and began reading.

Dream end.

After I awoke and thought about the dream, I realized that my dream self had equated the book as the lighthouse, and meditated a while about what that meant.

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