Tag: Dream

The ‘Miles’ Dream

People were running in positions as though they sat in cars, following lanes marked with white lines and arrows. I did the same, jumping into the left-turn lane toward my home. The streets were narrow, lined with tall cement and brick buildings pink, yellow, white. The setting reminded me of Okinawa outside of Kadena Air Base’s main gate back in the 1980s.

Arriving home, a tall, old, cement building, I encountered friends. One needed to leave but his son’s baby sitter hadn’t arrived.

“I can take him,” I volunteered.

Ted, a Black friend, answered, “You sure? I don’t want to burden you.”

“Miles isn’t a burden.” Miles was the boy, a light-skinned Black child with a sweet, happy face, an oddly muscular body, and a head topped with soft curls. “We’ll have fun, won’t we, Miles?”

Miles agreed with a grin and words I didn’t understand, tottering over to show me something in his hand, which was empty.

“Okay, thanks.” Ted left.

Miles and I walked down the street to another building. People there seemed high or tipsy. Performers, I knew. Students. Singers, actors, musicians, artists.

Miles and I spent time chasing one another or playing hide and seek. People knew him more than they knew me. They started asking, where is his father? Why do you have him?

I explained that I was watching the boy for his father because his father had an appointment, but his mother was coming to pick Miles up.

“What was the father’s appointment?” I was asked. “Why isn’t he here?” They were disapproving, even though I’d already explained that the baby sitter had an emergency.

“He was counter-protesting a protest.”

Oh, that makes sense. That’s important, others agreed.

Miles disappeared from my watch. I panicked and searched for him. His father came in just as I found Miles. I said, “I was so worried that something had happened to him. I took my eyes off him for just a second and he was gone.”

His father, who was now another person, said, “I know what you mean. That happens to me all the time.”

0

Another Flying Dream

I was visiting my sisters and their families. Someone was in the kitchen preparing food for us but I couldn’t see them. The kitchen was shallow and narrow, with silver and stainless-steel machines across its front, on top of a breakfast bar. We were all laughing and talking. I don’t recall anything said until I said, “Hey, how do you get into that kitchen?” I wanted to go in. “There are no doors.”

That wasn’t answered because at that point, I felt a powerful energy, a humming vibration, sweeping around me. Raising my hands, I stepped back to feel it better. “You guys feel that?” They all said no so I explained, “A powerful energy is flowing through here.”

Acting on an impression that struck, I moved back into an empty space in the adjacent living room. “Watch this.”

Putting my arms straight out to my sides, keeping my body stiff, I let myself fall face forward. As expected by me, I never hit the floor but levitated above it by several feet. “See that?” I called to them.

The children were watching and gasping in amazement. “How are you doing that?” several asked.

“I’m must using the energy. You can do it, too. Watch.” I landed on my feet and then repeated my act of falling forward and levitated again. The children were trying to copy me.

“I think I can higher and control myself,” I said. Then I changed my hands and moved forward, flying higher. Understanding that flight control was possible, I flew toward an open window.

Dream end.

0

Tuesday’s Theme Music

Happy Valentine Day — or is it Valentine’s Day — or Valentines Day — to you if you’re into that. I’m not. I’ve always considered it the most manufactured of manufactured holidays. My wife, K, was the same when we were younger. She has changed; I haven’t. But then, as she told me when we first dated, “You’re not very romantic, are you?” No, I’m not. I tried being more romantic, but she mocked every effort to be more romantic. So here I am. There’s nature vs. nurture for you.

It’s Tuesday, February 14, 2023. An inch of snow has fallen as part of the great weather warning. They told us we were likely to see six to seven inches in our Ashlandia. People raced around town to buy food and get errands completed before the great storm was upon us. They warned us about it for days. Well, we prepared. But I’d rather be warned and prepared than to not be warned at all.

Sunrise came at 7:09 this morning, not much presence against the dirty white tee shirt that is our morning sky. Temperature is 0 C. Expect a high of 40 F, the weather experts advise, before sunset at 5:42 PM Ashlandia stardard time.

Been addressing Tucker’s health. The big black and white feline suddenly was hobbling and could not jump. He’s aging so I thought, arthritis. Bought some arthritis treats for him. He enjoyed them but he’s always had gum problems and has lost many teeth. They were too much for him. So I crumble a treat each day and put it in about an ounce of hot water, then give him to him with a dropper. It’s made such a difference in his motility, it’s wonderful to witness. The treat is “Pet Naturals Hip and Joint Support Supplement for Cats”. I learned about it from another pet owner a few years ago, and I recommend it.

Have a Fleetwood Mac song called “Never Going Back Again” from 1977 dialed up by The Neutrons. Started from a dream today, but was reinforced by memory. The song came out when I was 21. I was in the military, married, contemplating choices. This song cemented some decisions for me, like, “I’m done with that. Never going back again.”

Stay pos and enjoy your Tuesday, shaping it best that you can. Once I’ve fortified myself with hot black coffee, I’ll try to do the same. Cheers, my friends.

0

The Towel Dream

I found myself as a young man at a wide, flat river. Dark as a winter night, the river didn’t reflect any light.

It was a cold day. Swimmers filled the river. They were heading downstream. I was not a swimmer, but walked among them as they came out of the water, giving them towels, talking to them and encouraging them.

Three swimmers caught my eye. One female, two males, all young, one black, one brown, one white, nothing extraordinary about them. Like the other swimmers, they wore swimsuits, and these weren’t anything special. Yet, watching them, I thought, keep an eye on them.

Seeing them leaving the water, I rushed to get them towels. All the towels were blue or gray; I wanted different colors for these three. I thought different colors would highlight them and help me keep watch on them. I ran around asking for other colored towels, and then demanded those towels. At last, red, yellow, and white striped beach towels were brought to me. I hurried over and gave the towels to those three.

Someone else with towels asked me what I was doing, etc. I explained that I wanted to keep an eye on those three. The other queried, “Why?”

“Because they’re special,” I explained. And then I knew, “They’re not part of this world. That’s why I wanted to give them special towels.” I gathered insight that the blue and gray towels muted people. Colors brought them more alive, bringing out talents. I said, “They’re shapeshifters from somewhere else, but they don’t know it. They can be anything, but the towels are keeping them unaware.”

After saying that, I took in the rest swimming by or toweling off and wondered, why don’t we give them colored towels, too?

2

The Time-Travel Device Dream

I’d noted before that Papi, my ginger-flavored housefloof, picks 6:37 AM to demand — again — to be let out. This is true plus or minus a minute each time. I meantion ‘again’ because he’s usually been in and out three of four times by then.

Now 6:37 probably isn’t early to many. It used to be non-early to me. Military, I worked shifts on and off for fifteen years. Day shifts often started between 6 AM and 7 AM at most locations, depending on our mission, so rising early was regular. My Space Command days, though, I was a superintendent and then the QAF advisor and made my hours. I always chose to be in by 7 AM, and I carried that forward after retirement, when I began work for a corporation.

All that’s dream background. In the dream, I decide to investigate whether it was true that Papi always wanted out at that time, and further, what the orange wonder did when he went out then. So, there I am, peering down on the world, zeroing in on my house, through the roof to my bedroom. Here comes Papi. I check the time and confirm it. He just goes outside, sits and washes, looks around, nothing special. Good, that’s one day but I need to check more.

Someone else there tells me, “You want to use our time machine?” I never see the others but I know that three are present.

I reply, “You have a time machine?”

“Yes, we use to go back and find the truth of what happened so that it can be properly documented.”

Yes, I’m floored. “Sure, I’d like to use that.”

I can see the other’s hands and arms at this point. All are wearing white gloves and a black coat. They give me a small black box, rectangular, maybe four inches by two inches by one. Blue numbers are on its front. I see labels for months, time, year. “Just put in the particulars which you want and it’ll take you there. You can’t interact at all but you can observe.”

Doing as directed, my instructors realize that I’m going back one day at a time and explain how I can do it more efficiently by using a little scroll control to the side. I can designated how I want to scroll, by year, day, hour, etc. So I play with it, confirming that Papi has been asking to be let out at that hour and minute for some time.

I finish with that exploration and give it back. “This is really useful,” I say. “It’d be great if I could go back and see what happened during other times, with other people.”

“Oh, you can do that,” one answers. “You can use it whenever you want. Just let us know.”

Dream end

0

The Guitar Dream

I was younger, as it often happens in my dreams these days. At first, I thought I was alone. In a room, I had a red and white electric guitar and was teaching myself how to play. I’d just gotten a riff going that I was enjoying when others came in, telling me that I was needed.

One of them was a young AF lieutenant who I once worked with. As she walked ahead of me, she said over her shoulder, “They’re ready to move and need you to make some decisions.” We entered a narrow, crowded hall. She and I turned and went in through a concealed door and up into a rectangular work center. It had consoles, chairs, a black and white floor, and a half wall which reached my waist. From there, I could see and control everything. People queued all around it. The looey and I began answering questions. She would often need to turn to me for help providing an answer. Meanwhile, I had no issues.

We were called out of the work center. I went down into the crowd. Most knew me and wanted to shake my hand or hug me and say hello. I gave guidance on what was being moved and its order to a trio of short, stocky, powerfully built men. They asked questions and left to begin the move. The staff gathered closer around me, peppering me with queries about their roles. I sorted them out quickly and then went to find my guitar to play more.

I couldn’t find the guitar and circled through the gathering, asking if others had seen it. None had and most weren’t aware that I had a guitar. Irritation and concern rose in me.

The lieutenant called me back to the control center. I was surprised when I reached it. The center’s half wall was much taller than before. I inquired about this. During that process, it became higher yet. I went up inside and could not see out. Returning back down, a contractor was led to me. I questioned him about the wall’s increased height. He explained that another person wanted it higher. I replied, “Well, I’m sorry, but I have the final authority on this. Take it back down to its previous height.”

Another man told me that the move was done. We could go to our new location. My commander called all of us in for a little celebration dinner. He thanked me for everything I’d done and followed it with several compliments. After eating, he directed me to lead us to the new place. Everyone began walking in a single line. I made my way past them and then went to a new center. Much longer, wider, and neater, it was a lean design but packed with equipment and technology. We all thought it was a great improvement, although it amused me that it had no roof and sat alone in a green field. I mentioned the lack of a roof to another. He replied, “We don’t need a roof, do we?” I laughed, agreeing, “I suppose we don’t.”

Everyone was in there, about twenty-five people, all known from RL and various jobs and cities. The commander announced that we should have a party, and then asked me if it was okay with me. I agreed, and a party with drinks, cake, and music began.

Another friend came up and asked, “Is this your guitar?” He held up a red and white guitar which I recognized as mine. “Yes, it is, thanks.”

Taking the guitar away from him, I back up a small hillock. From there, I could look down on our new control center and watch everything going on. I said something to myself about it being the commander’s staff, and then told myself, “No, this is my command staff.” That made me smile.

Stepping away, I began playing my guitar.

1

The Running Dream

A young man once again in my dream, thirty-something, I was staying at a sprawling hotel, enjoying a reunion with friends. Suite doors were open, and we were freely intermingling, chatting, drinking, eating, whatever moved you at the moment. Coming into one unit, four RL friends, military officers not seen in over thirty years, told me they were going for a run and asked me to come along.

Well, I protested, I’m not in running gear and I have nothing suitable to wear. Another old friend came up with something, though, so I agreed to go running. The newcomer was going to, so he waited for me to change. The others, meanwhile, jogged away. As I continued changing, the other guy announced he was going to start running now, too, because he didn’t want to fall too far behind. “Go on,” I answered. “I’ll catch up.”

I was almost done changing by then, and I started jogging a just a few seconds after he began. I caught him quickly.

We were running outside but on the cement balcony that connected our rooms, which were located on the inside of a courtyard. As we ran, we frequently had to dodge non-runners, people go in and out of rooms or standing and chatting or eating. I saw many friends among them.

We were catching the others, but I was impatient with the slow pace. When the opportunity came, I surged forward. Catching the first four easily, I went around them and set out at a faster speed. They laughed, shouting that I was a showoff and predicting that I’d soon tired out. But I found the running invigorating. As I rounded a corner and turned right, I saw a long, straight stretch empty of people, and pressed myself into a higher gear. I was almost flat our sprinting. People were talking about this and watching.

Sweat plastered my hair down and slathered my face. My breathing was hard. The running felt good, so I decided to run as fast and hard and long as I could. Entering into an all-out sprint with others cheering for me, I finished a lap and caught the first running group and passed them. I felt that I couldn’t go much longer and slowed, but then told himself, no, you’re not done, you have more, and forced myself into a max sprint again. I managed to complete another lap as the others stopped and returned to the room where we started. As I finished a third lap, drenched in sweat and cheered on by almost everyone, my original four friends shouted, “Stop running, you show off. It’s time to eat.”

I ran into the room and stopped. Talking about how much I was sweating, they were laughing. Others came in and urged me, take a shower, but someone pressed a plate of food on me, saying, “I made this for you. Eat.”

I started eating. Dream end.

0

The White House Dream

This dream wasn’t about the POTUS home. I was visiting with friends at a white stick frame house. In excellent condition, it was about 100 years old and had an odd layout which annoyed me. The house had a small wing added to it. My friends and I were outside but sometimes entered the white house. But going to different parts required me to pass through the added wing.

I was with four to seven friends. The number varied as people came and went. All male, all are RL dead.

But we were outside at a table in a garden, surrounded by trees, enjoying ourselves, when I spotted a shimmering in the air. “Look at that,” I said. They looked but did not see, following up with queries for a description about what I saw. I’d been looking at a tree framed by blue sky and it looked for a second like it was a glassy pond surface broken by a small ripple.

The description amused the others but they didn’t see anything like that and dismissed it. I kept watching for another, jumping from my chair, pointing and shouting when one was seen. “There, see it? It’s like a clear soccer ball is forming from ripples on a clear lake reflecting the sky.”

Although they looked, they didn’t see, irritating me as they muttered to one another that I was seeing things. I responded by telling them off for not being more alert and aware.

Some of them were coming and going through this so the entire situation was being rehashed for the newcomers. When one returned, it became a joke for them to ask if I’d seen anything else.

I went off to use the restroom, talking to myself with outrage about their ability to see what I now called energy manifestations, as that’s what I thought they were. I passed through the added wing to go from the house’s back to the front and then in to use the bathroom. Emerging from the house on my return journey, I saw another of the rippling. This time, it was a hazy humanoid shape.

It struck me that these were ET or humans from another dimensions attempting to enter our existence. I didn’t mention it to the rest, who now labeled me as a little nuts. Shortly after sitting, I spotted another. This one was definitely a clear, naked, generless human form. I watched it come into being and walk off, a clear thing that went into the woods. Going into the wing, I spotted a short white man with a white bushy ‘stach walking through there. I knew he lived in that wing and then I knew, too, that he’d been one of the what I now called ‘energy beings’ in my head. Thereafter, I tried keeping an eye on him.

Then, from nowhere, we became aware of a large celebration of elderly men taking place in a field. Long tables set with white linen were set up. I realized that four tables were in place, with twenty-five men to a table. They were serving huge pieces of cake on china, with gold flatware. I wanted one of those pieces but it wasn’t offered to me.

The dream’s last scene was of the man who I thought was an ET standing between two large trees, looking at me, holding a plate with a piece of cake.

0

A Traveling Dream

The beginning was chaotic. My wife and I were younger people. She had a girlfriend staying with us, no one knew from RL. We also had a small brown puppy on a red leash, a very smart dog.

She and her friend were trying to start a business. As I wasn’t involved, the details are scant to me. I was busy fixing things around the house, working in bathroom pipes around the sink and tub, then dashing over to work on the computer, helping my wife and her friend with their computer and the printer. All the time, the puppy follows me around and I talk to you. My wife will sometimes say, “Oh, no, where is the puppy,” because the puppy isn’t where she left him. “Relax,” I answer, “he’s right here beside me.”

Wife makes a tentative decision. Someone is interested in their business but they have to go meet them, which is a five-hour drive away. Will I take her? We jockey back and forth in the conversation, we me explaining that I don’t want to stay overnight because we have the puppy and there are things I must do, followed up by asking her, are you staying the night? How long will you be there?

She’s anxious with excitement, indecisive and scattered, frustrating me. I finally force the issue: I’ll drive you up and then return tonight. I’ll be driving ten hours. A neighbor comes and takes the puppy.

Then we’re in a car on a highway. I’m driving. I’m in the right-hand land of this divided highway, behind a car. The car is slowing. There’s a motorcycle in the left-hand lane but they’re several hundred yards back. I want to change lanes but the car in front of me is suddenly slowing. Checking my driver-side mirror, I discover that the motorcycle has caught up. I accelerate a little, create space, and change lanes.

That lane is now also slowing by a tremendous amount. What’s going on? I wonder, trying to see what’s ahead. First, we’re no longer on concrete; we’re on a soft dirt path. There are construction signs. The road is being worked on. Everyone, including us, is on foot, following one another like we’re cars.

We’re slowing. Ahead is a vertical pipe. We must climb up that. I’m carrying all of my wife’s luggage plus some long, heavy metal thing. I realize that I’d need to climb without using my hands. My wife and her friend anxiously watch, waiting for my decision about what I’ll do.

I realize, nobody else is carrying anything. They left it in their vehicle. Why didn’t we do that? I intuit that the construction people will transport the cars up to the other end of the pipe. This infuriates me; why do we need to leave our car at all? Why can’t they just transport the cars with us in it?

“Come on,” I tell the others. “We’re going back to the car.” I figure that there must be another way.

We’re back in the car. I drive fast in the opposite direction. There’s a detour sign on my left. I turn the car that way even though my wife wants to stop and think it over. We’re suddenly at our destination. “I knew it,” I crow, pleased.

2

Another Dead Person Dream

Last night’s dream had a special guest, a stepfather who died years after Mom divorced him. He’s father to two of my sisters. An addicted gambler, he lived in a room in a church, given to him with a small stipend for being the church caretaker, in the years before his death, forced to go there after the factory where he worked on a baking assembly line was shut down.

I always felt sorry for him and said so to my half-sisters, his daughters. One snapped, “I love him but he was very stupid and made bad decisions. He never learned from anything that he did.”

Hearing her say that shocked me, although it had been my opinion of him. All that is background to the dream, along with the note that I’ve had about six dreams featuring dead people in 2023. This is George’s first appearance.

To the dream.

I was visiting Mom at her house. She and I and everyone present were decades younger than RL. George, the deceased stepfather, was there, planning to go on a trip. His presence surprised me; I knew he was dead and I knew that he and Mom were divorced, but there he was.

‘There’ was a half-finished house. I couldn’t fully grasp what was done, as it wasn’t consistent in the dream. George mostly emerged from the bathroom and was in the kitchen when I encountered him. One oddity about the unfinished house was that the yard outside of it was covered in white carpeting. Sometimes a part of the yard was set up as a room, carpet on the floor, trees around it.

My two little sisters, George’s daughters, were there, young teenagers. George didn’t like me and was showing it. I was making comments to Mom. When I did, George would correct me. He’s right, I would realize, astonished. I was wrong and he was right.

I poured myself a glass of red wine and drank it, repeating that two more times. When I checked the bottle, it was still full. I chortled to myself, I’m going to keep this bottle, and took it with me.

George emerged from the bathroom. I tried being polite with him, asking, where are you going? How long will you be away? He gave me mean looks, refusing to answer, walking up the stairs to the kitchen. which didn’t have any walls.

Going outside with my bottle of wine, I met my youngest sister by a table. A single glass was on top of the table. As I spoke with her about George’s surprising intelligence, I poured wine into the glass. I completely missed the glass! Red wine made a huge stain on the white carpet.

Horror struck me. Oh, my god, what was I going to do? My sister was anxious about it, too. We threw glances back at the house and warned one another, Mom better not find out.

I went back to the house. George was about to leave. I told him to have a good journey and to stay safe. He departed without replying.

2

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