Tag: Dream

The White Paint Dream

I’d been alone in some modern office complex and was pretty happy about it. Then three dour men in gray suits with matching hats arrived and announced that they were there to help. All were white, tall, in their forties. They were going to paint. First I needed to clean the areas to be painted.

I rushed about, cleaning white bathrooms with white toilets. Although everything was already bright white, they were painting everything the same color. What was interesting was that the white walls had sharply and deeply etched swirl patterns covering the walls. I thought the walls were already clean but then was appalled to see that dry urine stained some sections. I hastened to find soap, water, and a cloth to clean it. As I did, I found more such stains. Located in such strange places, I wondered how the hell they came to be there?

As I scrambled to clean, some of the first arrivals began painting. Other men arrived to paint. Some came in and watched me cleaning, making comments about the urine stains.

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The Friend & Car Dream

A line of dreams stormed the night. One ended, a short time later, another stole in.

This one featured a friend and co-worker, George. We met during my civilian employment phase. We admired and enjoyed one another from the start. One of his people later came to work for me and commented about how much alike George and I were.

First, though, was some dream weirdness. I was in some non-descript place. Others entered, and we all came together to start putting a wall together. Unknown reasons were behind the wall building, yet we were having fun. With some surprise, I realized that we were building a basement wall. I kept building even as I pondered why that was needed. Finishing it, I curled up on an armchair to sleep and the others left.

My sleep was interrupted by others entering several times. I always knew the new people and found them a place to sleep, sometimes upstairs. Some lived nearby so I questioned, why did they want to sleep in my place, especially my basement? One young woman was particularly puzzling. I think she wanted something from me, so I was sort of leery of her and her intentions. She seemed artificially happy and wanted to sleep close to me.

Then George arrived, along with a fistful of other co-workers. Getting up, I expressed surprise at their arrival. We chatted about old times. George and I had never worked in the same physical location. He worked at the company headquarters, and I was across the country. He and the others were visiting my work location. Pleased with that, I started showing them different things, telling them about how it’d changed since the early days. We were outside now. There used to be a wall up there, which was where we blah blah blah’d, I explained. Asking him and the rest if he remembered aspects of the area and how it used to be, I told him about where people used to go to lunch in the old days.

George wanted to see it. Calling my wife over to join us as the other employees walked on, I told George that I could take him in my car. We were immediately beside it, a gold tone sixties era convertible with the top down that I never quite fully saw. I told my wife that we were going to go see the old lunch area. By that point, George had entered the car and was behind the wheel. He wanted to drive my convertible, referring to it as a classic.

The three of us in the car, George driving, top down, sunshine covering us, drove off. George loved the car’s acceleration. That pleased me. I gave George directions about where to go, continuing to tell him about the changes we passed as we went. The road was smooth, a divided four-lane highway, the traffic light, with a matching mood. Along the way, I told him that people used to ride their bikes to come down here and get lunch, explaining that they’d exploited shortcuts.

We arrived at the lunch spot. Settled in the middle of a huge dirt and gravel parking lot was a large building, wood, painted dark brown. Inside was the same brown color. Fluorescent tube lights and windows provided light. The floor was bare cement. A few tables of aluminum tubes with Formica tops, with padded curved aluminum chairs, were lined against one wall, napkin holders, ketchup and mustard containers on them. Two or three workers in aprons were behind the short corner in one dark corner under work lights. George walked around, looking at the place, not saying anything, as my wife and I silently followed. Then we left.

We took another way back, to stop at another site I’d mentioned. This one was a low, narrow building with lush, exotic landscaping. It wasn’t the building which I expected and told George, but he insisted we go in anyway. The ceiling was low and the inside was dark. Within were a small Asian couple, husband and wife, we assumed. They offered me a glass of water, which I accepted and drank as George walked around. My wife said, “I wish you hadn’t taken that.” I confirmed that she meant the water, which puzzled me.

We decided to leave. The couple gave George a wrapped piece of gum, and then asked him for 10,000 yen for my glass of water. My wife, George, and I talked in confusion about what was being asked of us. When he understood, George laughed and said, “I don’t have ten thousand yen.” My wife said, “I knew you shouldn’t drink that water.”

We left without paying, but the couple didn’t seem to mind. The dream ended as we got into the car again. George insisted that he would drive.

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A Black and White Cake Dream

This dream was compact, busy, and brisk. My wife and I were at a school. Both of us were adults. She was a guest while I was taking classes.

The school was an old dark red brick building. Tall and austere, ivy grew up the sides. My class was small, and we were the school’s only class. A large brick walking path went around the school, sometimes weaving round bushes as it did.

My wife was happy being there and I was having a good time. I had two instructors, both female, and older than me. The primary teacher was an attractive woman just a few years older than me, a brunette who was tall and shapely. The course’s end was near, so students and teachers were familiar with each other. My wife would pop in and see how it’s going and then hurry off to some social activity. I was fine with all this.

At one point, I said in French to another student that my name is Michael. He, jokingly replied in broken French that he didn’t know what I was saying because he didn’t speak French. I told him that I didn’t, either. We had a good laugh.

Final papers were due. I found myself rushing into class at the last minute. I didn’t know the subject and the other students began explaining to me what was expected to be turned in. I panicked, thinking that I hadn’t done it, but they reminded me that I had, and told me what I’d written. One of them even had a copy of this. All this flabbergasted me.

The teacher came in and announced in a smiling, friendly way that the course was done and that we’d all passed. There would be a party and everyone was invited. I went to find my wife. When I found her, she was already with a few other students. She knew about the party and ended down the winding path through the bushes to go to the school’s other entrance. I chased after her. Hearing me running after her, she started laughing and running. I passed her.

We reached the other entrance and entered. The attractive teacher was there. She and my wife talked about and then the instructor said that she would be serving cake. I helped her set up tables and chairs and wheeled a television on a cart in for her. She and I were talking throughout, and she began flirting with me. I was flattered but taken aback.

Her flirting grew, but then she left. Everyone sat down with cake, which was a black and white whipped cream cake, with long shaved chocolate curls on it. I was the only one without any. I saw that there was another piece over the television and went over and got it. The teacher entered and asked me what I was doing. I explained that I didn’t get any cake, so I’d taken the last piece. She replied, “I cut everyone a piece and served it. I served enough for everyone, and I served it all. There was none left.”

I answered that I didn’t receive any and then looked at my plate. It was empty except for some whipped cream and chocolate curls. I said, “Did I eat my cake? I don’t remember eating it.”

I looked over at the cake by the television. None was left. I was puzzled and troubled about what had happened.

Then, abrupt dream shift, I was just out walking on the path by myself at dusk when I encountered the instructor. She flirted with me, and then gave me a hug, kissed my cheek and said, “You did very well. See you later.”

I answered a little abruptly, “I can write, but I’m not one of those who can write brilliant, flowery prose.”

Starting to walk away, she turned back to me and answered, “Oh, don’t worry. That’ll come.”

Dream end.

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A Shambolic Dream

Arriving somewhere outside, I was met by a man I knew. I’d worked with him at a startup after my military career. Now he was dressed as a light colonel. Greeting me and my wife, he said, thumb over shoulder to indicate direction, “Come on over here and join us. We’re going to review your records.”

So first, I acted like that was completely and totally normal. I said to my wife, “Oh, I guess I’m in the military.” She agreed and went off to do something while I went through my review.

Several problems immediately presented. One, no uniform. Two, haircut out of regs. So was the mustache. Three, I needed to get my records.

My records were to have been pulled and sent over for the review. I was directed over to an area where a table was set up like it was in a record store, but this was all outside under a sunny early autumn day. People were milling, going through the sectioned records, searching for their records. Someone offered to help me. As I went through them, I found my records and so announced. But wait; those weren’t my records. The first and last names were correct, but the middle name was wrong. On, no, they’d sent over the wrong records.

As I swore a bit about what had happened, I noticed another table to the left. It wasn’t set up in the same way. I stepped over to it and there were my records.

I rushed them over to the large card table where the review was being conducted. I knew several of those folks from both military and civilian careers. As I came up, I heard one chief master sergeant say, “But that’s how he aways is.” Others agreed.

I was mortified. Were they speaking of me? What did they mean?

They reviewed others’ records. When it came to be my turn, I joked with them and then explained that I was just back, I’d been visiting with my mother, who’d been very sick. They seemed disinterested. They looked through my records and commented on my haircut and lack of uniform. I told them that I was trying to get it together. One said, “Didn’t you come back from being with your mother a few weeks ago?” When I answered yes, he continued, “Then shouldn’t you have it together by now?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Let me go get my haircut. My wife was just telling me that I needed to get one. And my uniform is in my locker. I’ll get it and put it on.”

I went off, with my wife joining me. We were mumbling to one another about the situation. She had my clothes, having gotten them out of my locker. Great, but they were horribly wrinkled. Where could I iron them or have them pressed? There was no time, no time.

Then, some young airman dressed in a black pseudo-NAZI military uniform insulted my wife. Overhearing it, I was furious. Confronting him, I wanted to hit him but instead warned him that I was taking action against him. Laughing, he told me, “Fuck you.” That pissed me off further. Another person attempted to defend him as the first guy stood there laughing. I told both that I was busting their asses before my wife pulled me away.

Stepping out of the locker area, I put on the wrinkled pants. Others, including the board members, turned and watched. I then tugged on the shirt only to realize that the shirt and pants were from two different uniform combinations and didn’t match. I thought, oh my God, now I’m screwed.

The guy who greeted me at the dream’s beginning came up. He said, “Don’t worry about any of this. We’re cutting you a break.” As I responded with astonished relief, he went on, “They reported that they found a spell on you, a curse. We’ve lifted that, but since you were under it up to this point, we thought we’d give you a pass.”

The dream ended as I was absorbing this.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Daylight come and Friday begin. We all know Friday began much earlier than dawn or sunrise. Sunrise staked its moment at 7:39 AM. Daylight plans to hold on until 6:10 PM. Speaking personally — I’m not sure how else to speak, unless I’m speaking for the cats — the sunlight brings warmth and light and I enjoy its presence.

It is October 28, 2022. We’ll see how this day falls out in future history books. Musk bought Twitter so this day could be one marked for the books. Inflation is falling, so that might also show up as part of history. Who knows?

It’s 39 degrees F in my world section, not as cold as some places, not as warm as others. It’ll be 61 by daylight’s end. I have “Devil Woman” by Cliff Richards (1976) in the morning mental music stream. This came about from a dream. Absolutely everything was going wrong in it. As my irritation and frustration reached epic levels in the dream, someone came about to tell me, “Don’t worry. You were under a curse so we gave you a pass.” There’s more to it but I might share the dream in another post. Don’t want to spoil things here, ha, ha.

Anyway, after awakening and going through this dream, The Neurons responded with “Devil Woman”. I don’t think I’ve heard it in a long, long time, as opposed to just a long time.

Hold on. There will be a brief break in the posting process while the Tucker gets his mouse love. He must rub his face against my hand as it sits on the mouse every morning and evening. It’ll be just a few minutes…

Okay, where was I? Reading, reading… Okay, as I was writing, I’ve not heard this song in a long time so The Neurons’ choice surprised me. I suppose that reading about the Salem witch trials a few days ago may have caused some subconscious connections. I checked out several videos of Richards performing the song. No band or backup… He doesn’t move his feet much, either, but quite expressive with his hand in his stagecraft. It represents the era, 1976, well, though. Like, love those bell bottoms.

Alright, remain positive and test negative. I have a cat beating at the door. I told Papi not to go out because it’s chilly and he no like the cold, but he insisted. Now he insists, time to get back in the house. So I’ll let him in and then get his coffee, I mean, my coffee, and eat breakfast, drink coffee, and peruse the news to see what they’ll say about Friday, October 28, 2022, in the future. Here’s the music. Cheers

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The Sky Message Dream

I was working in a new restaurant. Many others were there. A number of us were middle managers but didn’t have assigned duties. We’d go around making ourselves useful and organizing things. As I was doing that, I noticed a lot of dust and set out to dust things off. My dusting caused more accumulated dust, so I backed off. The dust seemed odd to me, and I spent time feeling it, trying to figure out what it was.

A tall, geeky friend was there. He was trying to serve drinks with ice in tall glasses. Each time, though, he spilled the drinks or dropped them altogether. I told him, “Maybe this isn’t for you.”

A loud commotion pulled us to another room where employees were around a large television. It was showing a night sky. A message was written in the dark in large, white letters. None of us knew the language. Guesses about who may have written grew. Many people, including me, thought it was extraterrestrials. What kind of message could they be giving us? A threat, a question, a promise? Was this a good omen or something sinister?

I resumed working. Now I was helping another person construct some furniture. It was strangely squared off, tall, and light gray. The tall geek walked in, said, “Oh, no,” and dropped a tray full of drinks right as he reached a table of customers. We were all horrified but then realized they were fake drinks and he had dropped them as a joke. Someone started dusting. I warned them about the increased dust. He saw that happen, too. We discussed whether we could do something differently or use a cloth with a different material. I left him with nothing resolved.

I instead went off and got a tray of food. The tray was red. Someone said, “All of your food is green.” I saw they were right — I had a green salad, green beans, and peas. My dessert was red gelatin, though. Standing around the tray on the table, people joked that I should have gone for the green gelatin.

I was told the boss wanted to see me and went off to find her. She was on the move. As I tried to catch up, people kept interrupting me with questions about how something should be done. Hearing that the boss was outside, I left the building.

The tall geek came out, calling me and hurrying towards me. He said he needed the password to get into the system. I told him it was shoo. As he repeated it with some surprise, I went on about a trick I’d learned to circumvent logging in every time. He seemed confused by it and went away to a silver SUV. I thought he was going to get in and drive away but he put something he was carrying into the vehicle and then walked back towards the building.

I began going off to find more to do. It had been light but was suddenly dark. Looking up, I saw another message written in the night sky. It was like Someone had used chalk on a giant blackboard. I called out for other to see it and recognized it was a different message from before. It also seemed to be in a different writing. I thought that maybe our sky was being used as a message board for alien groups. I began believing that I could figure the dream out and was going to go to the computer to see what I could find about the previous message, if other messages were being seen and if the message was being seen in all night skies.

Dream end.

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The 03:55 Dream

It was 03:55 in my dream. I needed to use the bathroom. So I navigated my way to it. As I did, I glanced at my watched and confirmed it was 03:55. I puzzled over the time, thinking, I think I wake up every morning at 03:55 and use the bathroom.

Opening the bathroom door, I saw myself getting out of bed and going to the bathroom. As I did, I looked at my watched and shifted to being that person and saw it was 03:55.

And again.

Awakening, I sat up in bed. What I saw was identical to the dream in every way. Getting out of bed, I looked at my watch and saw that it was 03:55. I slowed as the dream’s gravity hung on me, that I’d dreamed what I was doing, then opened the bathroom door, and chuckled.

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Friday’s Theme Music

Yesterday is past. Today is here.

Today is Friday, October 7, 2022. It’s gonna be a cool one here. A silky silvery layer insulates us from the sun and promises precipitation. Sunrise at 7:22 this morning was smooth and low-key, a gradual unveiling of the fall landscape. Sunset at 6:53 will surrender the land back to night. It’s 51 degrees F now, warmer than the week’s earlier offerings, but we’re only expecting a little beyond 13 C as the high. Meanwhile, my wife tells me our high back home was 91 F.

A dream that I was swimming through green water brought me The Neuron’s music choice. Not much of the dream remains except that the water was green but clear, with good visibility. I could see myself from an external perspective, breath held, bubbles sneaking out of me, panic rising as my air ran out. I struck for the surface and could see it far, far above me. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. Cheeks and lungs bursting, I let my air escape.

But then I discovered, oh, I can breath.

Anyway, thinking about that this morning, The Neurons said, oh, “Nightswimming” by R.E.M. from 1992 would be perfect. I dunno, I replied, because it’s a very mellow morning song. But I do like Michael Stipe’s vocal stylings, so here we are.

Stay positive and test negative. I’ve had my coffee, thanks. Loved that fresh brew smell tickling my nose and energizing anticipation. The first cup was taken out to the cool air on the back porch, where I could enjoy the woods and grass’s dark jade richness. Moments like those are salves on the soul, re-establishing my balance as I contemplate existence.

Cheers

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A Prize Dream

I was in some amorphous school. I never got a good handle about what it was. People aged up into their fifties were there. We lived, worked, and played there, but also had other homes.

Some kind of reward program was initiated to honor the best and brightest. Admin wasn’t forthcoming about what was going on. Meanwhile, with my wife and others visiting, I was working on an art project, using trash and garbage to make things, really just goofing around and exploring. I’d made dozens of objects, nothing impressing to my eye, just killing time, when I was summoned to another room. There, I was told I’d won and could select any prize from anyone. Well, I still didn’t understand. Like, won what? I learned that twelve had been chosen and I was one of them. I’d been selected to receive the first prize but that didn’t mean that I was first. It just meant that I was one of the twelve.

I walked through the school’s maze, looking for a prize to select. Others congratulated me as I did. Another student told me that a male teacher was overheard saying that he hoped that I wouldn’t be one of them, because he couldn’t stand me, and then I was the first one chosen, which upset the teacher.

I hadn’t found a prize I wanted so I started changing to leave. As I got down to my shirt and boxer shorts, other students found me and told me to go with them because they found a prize which they thought I’d like. So I went and yes, the gave me a prize, which I don’t remember. I started some four-year-old boys with their father watching. He was a friend and another of the selected winners, and the prize I’d taken was something he’d made. I felt a little embarrassed about it and apologized to him, but he waved it off, telling me, those are the rules. One of the boys announced that he didn’t want to play with me because I’d soiled myself.

Flabbergasted, shocked, and embarrassed, I covered my rear and left, but I hadn’t soiled myself. At that point, I saw another of the prize winners going by. Preparing to leave, they’d selected all of my art as their prize and was taken it with them.

End dream.

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The Lost Shoes Dream

I dreamed I was with a bunch of people. All were nice, and seemed like friends, although nobody was recognized from real life. Some kind of outdoor function, we were socializing after eating when a man arrived. He was identified as Colonel Campbell, stealth-aircraft fighter pilot.

All of us were impressed. Pilots are one category, fighters are another, and stealth is the bleeding edge techno. He sat at a table and we gathered around to eye him. Evening was on us so I decided it was time to leave.

A dream shift found me in a Starbucks coffee shop. Busy, the place was a labyrinth of rooms, all with white walls or stone walls. Some rooms were large, where dream catchers, turquoise and silver jewelry, and black feathers were on sale. Others were rooms with tables where people could sit, drink coffee, and chat. A few halls and bathrooms finished the setup.

I got a coffee and went through the rooms until I found a table. Dissatisfied with it because I thought it too noisy and busy, I moved to another table. I eyed people as I sipped coffee. The employees interested me the most. They were familiars in the dream although again no one known in RL.

Finishing my coffee, I decided to leave, but struggled to find the exit. Each room seemed to take me into another one. In one room, I found the Starbucks employees preparing to start a celebration. They fell silent and waited for me to leave before resuming their festivities. I heard several of them say something about me but I wasn’t sure what they said. It sounded like they liked me and wished more customers were like me.

But I’d gone on. Just as I thought I’d found the exit, I realized that I’d lost my shoes. I’d been wearing sandals, I remembered, and thought that I must have kicked them off to be more comfortable. Rushing about, I tried retracing my steps to find the table where I’d been. Dodging people was required, and I almost stepped in someone’s chocolate cake, jumping over it just in time. I also had to swivel to avoid knocking over children.

Eventually I came into a room where a man was sitting at a booth. People were whispering, he’s a pilot. I approached him and asked, what does he fly? What’s his name? I wasn’t certain it was Colonel Campbell.

He wouldn’t really answer me or look at me. Announcing, “I have to go,” he leaped out of the booth and then crouched down and duckwalked out, stopping to look at toys on the floor. Catching up with him, I asked if he was okay, as another man approached to check on him. I told the other man that who I though the man was. This explanation put a silly grin on Campbell’s face (I was pretty sure it was him by then). His eyes were glassy and he started acting flighty (sorry for the pun).

Still trying to find my shoes, I went into a bathroom. Seeing my reflection, I was stopped short by how my face had changed. I knew it was me but I didn’t recognize myself. My face was large and squared off, with a towering forehead. I speculated that the mirror was distorted but saw that everything else was properly reflected.

My final thought was that I’d done something to myself.

Dream end.

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