Tag: Dream

A Multi-layered Dream

I was young, middle-aged, in my thirties, happy, confident, relaxed. I encountered a diverse dreamscape of buildings, floods, people, and events.

A young boy saving kittens was met several times. He never spoke. Seemed perhaps four. His features and complexion changed. He was never of one color, one ethnicity, but different each time that we met. I worried about him so I would seek him out.

Because a deluge was underway. A swollen black and gray sky loomed above. Flood waters were rising through valleys and ravines. I worried about the kittens and the boy. Gray, black, white kittens. They were newborns, fitting into the child’s hand. At first he had four gray kittens. Then he had four gray and four black. The third time he and I met, he had three each, gray, white, and black.

I’d go find him and learned that he liked to hang out in shallow gullies. I talked to him, questioning what he was going to do, and told him my worries about protecting the kittens. He listened and didn’t speak but pointed. I realized with relief that others were caring for the boy. He wasn’t alone, and the kittens were burrowing into tunnels. I never seen anything like it, but I immediately understood that they would be safe.

Through it all, despite worries, I was relaxed, confident, happy.

Interspersed with checking on the boy and his kittens, I was embedded in a ramshackle, old, cluttered office building, a red-brick form follows function design three stories tall, with lots of windows. Situated on the third floor, I looked over a long, grassy lawn. A young woman out there took directions from people in the building. Waking has robbed me of understanding of her role, but at one point in the dream, I wrote lengthy instructions for her, using a large sheet of cardboard and a black magic marker. My plan was to go out there and post it by her, sticking in the ground so that it was vertical. These were supposedly providing her course corrections based on my observations of all transpiring.

After writing the instructions, I decided not to post them and set them aside. But, surprise, the young woman — white as Caspar, short, with curley dark hair and a warm smile — came up, talking to me, and then said, “Oh, you’re the man who wrote the instructions.” I asked, “How’d you know that? I never posted them?” Looking at them beside me, she said, “I saw them from where I was. They made sense. Thanks for writing them.” I was surprised and delighted that she knew of them and pleased by her comments.

I’d been doing other things, drafting missives and instructions, making phone calls throughout all of this, preparing, because we were going through the evacuation stages. One aspect was I was dealing with multiple issues and was achieving impressive results. By finding and contacting quality assurance in various departments, providing them feedback and suggestions, and sometimes making a complaint, things were being fixed for me.

Others had noticed and finally, a swarthy, slender man approached me. Much younger than me, in his early twenties, he inquired about how I’d fixed something. I told him that I’d lobbied the QA function in that department, and they’d worked with their people to improve things.

Other things went on — like the young woman approaching me and checking on the boy and his kittens — and then it was time for me to leave. As I prepared, the young man returned, pleased and proud, telling me about how he’d used my guidance to fix something, and how, now that he knew to do this, he was going to fix everything.

I educated him that you can’t go to that same QA for other things, explaining, “Every department has a QA. Each must be individually contacted and the problems for that department brought to their attention. They will fix them.”

He thought about this and then nodded understanding, a little down that he had much more to do than he realized. I told him that I had confidence in him that he would do it. He brightened at that, and then I picked up my black bag and set off.

Dream end.

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Bewildering Red, White, and Blue Dream

I was staying in a two-story place with many other relatives. A diverse group, among the others were my father, two nephews, a sister-in-law, and one nephew’s wife and children. We were staying in the building temporarily. It impressed by being old and mundane, cheaply furnished with things which might have been procured at the curb on trash day or from secondhand stores and estate sales. It would only be for a few days. We understood and accepted its limitations.

One thing that did stand out was the owners’ use of red, white, and blue bunting and decorations. Much of it was worn and torn, and some of it was stained and moldy.So much of it in some many places, it was a great distraction. Especially, we noted to one another, since it’s not any sort of holiday that would call for decorations like that. It seemed like they wore their patriotism on their sleeves and by doing so much of it, they demeaned it. But it was their place, so WTH?

My nephew’s wife decided on another course. Without telling us, she and her daughters took much of the bunting down on the second floor because it annoyed them. I didn’t approve and told her so. Her husband, my nephew, defended her in his loud voice, joking about the whole thing. Dad agreed with me, it shouldn’t have been done, but shrugged it off, refusing to involve himself.

Everyone except Dad and I took off. A fuller understanding of the dwelling emerged. It was like a shoebox stood on one end. All the walls were white, except one upstairs, which was pink. The upper floor had a loft so you could look over and see about half of the bottom floor and the front entrance. No furniture was in that space. That floor was covered by a thin, worn, and soiled harvest-gold carpet with an extremely short pile, almost like indoor/outdoor carpeting.

Someone came to the door and then stepped in. Looking over the loft’s railing, I saw that it was a local police officer dressed in a black uniform. He said he was investigating vandalism. Going down and speaking with him, I realized that the owners had reported removing the second-floor bunting as vandalism. I told the officer what’d happened. While doing that, I indicated one wall to our left. Although white and broad, red, white, and blue ribbons covered the wall. These ribbons were like a blue ribbon given out as an award. There must have been thousands.

The officer considered everything and then said it didn’t sound like something he should be dealing with and left. I went back up and told Dad about this. As I did, the others returned. I repeated the story about what’d happened.

The others again prepared for an outing, and Dad and I again remained behind. Someone knocked on the front door, and then a state trooper entered. Looking up at me, he told me he was there to investigate reported vandalism. I laughed at this. Going down to talk with him, I discovered the ribbons gone from the first-floor wall, revealing a well-used and large corkboard. I asked the officer about the report, laughing as he explained that he was looking for missing ribbons, and then told him about the red, white, and blue ribbons which had covered the wall. The rest returned while the officer was there. Dad came down and told the officer that we’d pay for the missing bunting and ribbons. The officer replied, “No, the people wanted prosecution.”

The trooper decided it wasn’t his problem. He’d make the report and it would be forwarded to DA for further action.

Dream end.

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The Kissing & Dancing Dream

I wasn’t the person I am now, and I wasn’t married to the woman with me now. I still knew it was me but didn’t like the same, something known as perspective changed, as they frequently do in my dreams.

My wife and I were in a room with many others. Double beds lined the walls with the headboards against the walls. Every bed had a couple in it, including my wife and I, fully dressed with shoes on, under bed covers. Around the room were men and women, the men in either dark blue or white shirts, with loose black suits and hats, and the women in beige blouses, something with beige skirts, but sometimes with black skirts. Sometimes, the women wore a white bonnet.

The men and women not in beds were clapping their hands and dancing, thumping their thick-soled shoes against the wooden floor, chanting, “Kiss and dance, kiss and dance, kiss and dance.” Laughter kept interrupting as they focused on specific couples.

In bed with my ‘wife’, I moved close to her, getting face to face. Like most in the room, we were about forty years old, given one or two years either way. She looked white, wan, and tired. I asked, “What do you say? Should we kiss and dance?”

She answered, “No, I’m too tired.”

Disappointed, I snapped, “That’s what you always say.” Frustrated, I climbed out of bed and walked around the room as the “kiss and dance” chant continued. Other couples were kissing and several got out of bed and danced in the room’s center.

Another man climbed into bed with my wife. Outraged, I saw that she let him kiss her. At that point, a man called an end to the festivities and told us, “Everyone needs to go home now.”

My wife and the man left the bed. She came to me and said, “We should go.” Everyone else had already filed out.

Rage stoked, I replied, “No.” I took her by her shoulders, pushed her back against a wall, and said, “I have three things to say to you.” Her eyes were wide; she did not speak. “One, you never want to kiss me. Two, I saw another man get in bed with you, and I saw you kissing that other man. I am tired of all of this. We are done. I’m going home. You need to find somewhere else to do.”

I left.

Dream end.

I felt tremendously liberated and strong after awakening from this dream.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

A sibilant swishing announced that Thursday had arrived. Moving with the dignity of a powerful superyacht, it pulled into August 4, 2022 and docked. Although people crowded about to see the day, most were ambivalent. It’s Thursday, yes, but really, that meant that it’s closer to Friday, Saturday, or Sunday for most. A few deeply rooted pessimists said, “That just means it’s closer to Monday.” Apparently, they’re not Monday fans.

Sunrise painted a pretty summer dawn at 6:07 AM, all green sky and blue trees and grasses, then realized it had it reversed and fixed it. Sunset is planned for 8:27 PM in our valley, unless something goes wrong. Even when it goes wrong, they immediately alter reality so that everything seems right. We’re left feeling like something is off, something is different, without ever being able to point to one thing and say, “That’s it,” and settle our confusion.

Temperatures are milder on this day, 59 when I got up at 7:30 ish, and now 70 F two hours later. A high of 34 C is expected this afternoon. We’ll see what they’re like. Most of the nineties I’ve met are friendly but some appear to be hotheads.

Our air quality has improved. We were cruising through yesterday afternoon at around 118 as shown by Purple Air. Then, at about 5:30, the readings all through the valley plummeted to the range of 2 – 20 and remained low since. Must be that a low has jumped into the area, shifting the wind patterns.

I had a dream last night. Wasn’t nearly as inspiring as MLK Jr’s dream, that I recall. Little is recalled except that I saved a little brown dog and gave it to some children. It’s germane for the day’s theme music because upon waking from that dream, The Neurons began playing “Save Your Tears” by The Weeknd (2020) and have it looping through the morning mental music stream. I didn’t ask for further details from The Neurons about why that song is playing. I know their game. They’ll tease, mock, and smirk, but they won’t explain. It was the theme music in April of 2021 but I’d need to drink my coffee to find another one today.

The coffee has landed. Stay positive, test negative, wear masks as necessary to take care of you and yours, etc. Here’s the music. Stay safe, wherever you are, and have a better one. Cheers

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The Red Mustang Dream

I was a young man, as I often am in my dreams, probably in my thirties. I was in the home of a woman I knew. It was a standard modern place but basic and clean. I was standing in a dining area by a patio slider. She wasn’t there, but two other young women and a young man were present. They were about ten years plus younger than me. We in the middle of a conversation in which I related to them that they were ‘taking the wrong medicine’ and told them what medicine they should be taking. The man walked out to get it even though I told him that I had it with me. One of the women left and the home owner returned. She asked what was going on so the other young woman and I explained it, with me doing most of the talking, telling her that they’d been using the wrong medicine. She appreciated me correcting them because one of them was her niece (I never knew which). The young man returned then, without medicine because he could ‘t find it as “everything is closed”. I gave him a huge black backpack which contained the medicine he and the others needed.

As the young man thanked me, the other woman returned and the homeowner announced that she was leaving. She told us we could stay or go, it was our choice. I said I was going because I needed to do other things. The young man left with me. We walked down a busy small-town street for a bit, and then separated. I went over and got into my Mustang. Red, it was a 1965 convertible in very good condition, highly polished, with a white interior and convertible top. I needed work on it, so I took it to this little place. I backed into a spot and then got out to get a number and get in line, because that’s how it worked there. As I was waiting, another person arrived and backed his car into the Mustang.

I was upset, more so because he shrugged it off and walked away. He was much smaller than me and a little younger. I confronted him, pointing out the damage. Body damage, on the driver’s side front, was very slight, but the tire was torn up. Looking at it, the tire was made of white foam mattress and had lost a large chunk from the accident. He talked to the man about it but he claimed it wasn’t his fault, went and got a number and got into line.

I was upset. He’d hit my car and wouldn’t take responsibility for it. A friend arrived and I told him about what had happened. The guy who’d hit my car was in line with several large companions, who had been there when I arrived. My friend said, “Know how to start a confrontation?” I shook my head and he said, “Let me show you.”

He walked up and attempted to grab the younger guy’s nut sack, but one of the big other guys instead did it to him, saying, “You trying to start a confrontation?”

That didn’t make sense to me. As my friend was released and limped off, departing the business, I decided that I would leave. As I went to depart, I encountered another young man with thick dark hair. He was looking into the shop and asked me if I would recommend it. I told him that it depended on what he needed and how badly he wanted it, but I was disappointed in the shop and told about the accident. I asked him what he was looking for. When he told me, I said, “I recognize you. I read about your story on the net.”

He verified that was him, and then the homeowner from the dream’s beginning arrived. As the young man looked across at her, he said, “Excuse me, that’s my mother.”

Dream end.

A note that the dream Mustang reminded me that Dad had a 1965 Mustang when he was stationed in Germany in the late 1960s, blue with a white convertible top and black interior, with a 289 and four speed. I wasn’t with him in Germany, but he showed me pictures of him with the car with its top down in Paris.

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A Wonderful Flying Dream

I don’t know exactly where this took place. The POV often changed. Sometimes it was upclose and personal, as though looking from my eyes. Other times, I saw myself from several feet away.

I was in my mid-thirties, as so, and in a large, white place. I don’t know what it was. Definitely didn’t seem like a church. Pews were absent, along with any other religious clues. Sand white carpet was underfoot, complimenting the white walls. A huge cathedral ceiling with tall windows dominated.

I’d been there for a period and knew the area. At this point, I was watching others. Many were attempting to fly things which looked like a kite and a mylar balloon had offspring. None were large. Many looked like π. Another appeared to be a long, mildly curved tablet. As I watched people trying strings to these and trying to fly them, I thought, they’re all doing this wrong. Getting my hands on a π, I went to the highest point that I could find and threw myself off.

The highest point was only about twenty-six feet tall. The height was enough for me to hold π to my chest, jump off, and fly around the room. As I did, I grasped that I could gently shift π and change my course, feather, and wheel, which I did. Others all stopped to ogle what I was doing. After I landed, they clamored for explanation about how I did this. I started trying to teach them but they struggled. Meanwhile, I wanted one of the curved tablets. I thought that I could really do things with it.

Around then, a car drove up. The driver’s window went down. It was the guy in chair and his wife. He called me over for a conversation. He said, “I hear that you’re flying these things.” I was distracted, looking for one of the tablets. Airborne, I was waiting for it to descend low enough for me to grab it. After I replied, “Yes,” to him, the boss man continued, smiling, “Well, I’m not at all surprised. I always thought that if anyone could, it’d be you.” Flattered, I answered, “Yes, but there’s more to come with these.” Responding, I’m looking forward to that, he drove away.

I caught a tablet. Taking it to the highest spot, I leaped off. As I plunged toward the ground, I gently invoked a mild bend in the tablet. It instantly took me back up to the ceiling. As I thought, its bend and shape provided more lift and control. As the others watched, gasping at what I was doing, I sailed around the room, diving at people, rolling, and then soaring back up.

By now, some children had learned to fly π. They began trying to follow me. I led them on short trips around the complex. Unlike the cathedral, the complex was a labyrinth of low dark tunnels opening onto square rooms where orange light glowed.

As I went down one tunnel on a tablet followed by a few children on π, I encountered another child flying a π in the other direction. As I moved to let her by, I caught my tablet on something stuck out of the wall and went into a spin. Unfazed, I righted myself and went on, impressing everyone because the spin barely slowed me down.

Dream end. I felt great throughout the dream, and smiled when I remembered it after I awoke.

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Another Military Dream

This dream was different from the beginning. In my previous military dreams, I’m usually arriving and lost, or establishing order and structure. In this dream, I found myself finishing and leaving. The dream was mostly about me showing my replacement all the equipment and introducing him to our processes and procedures. In a parallel action, the colonel who was the commanding officer, was handing over command and moving on. This individual was a real-life person who later retired as a lieutenant general. We’d worked closely together during my final assignment. Now, in the dream, I ran into him. Both of us were in good moods. He was hungry. I told him that I could get him pizza, which he accepted.

It was very hectic, with much going on. I was constantly fielding questions, introducing people, and hurrying from point to point. During this, I saw a young airman watching. I grinned and waved to her, and then asked her what she was doing. She told me that she was watching me and that I just amazed her with my energy and authority. I laughed and joked that that was all surface appearance, that underneath it all, I was a quivering mess. She rejected that, telling me, “I know you, and you’re always like this, in control of everything and getting it all done.” The flattery pleased me.

Dream end.

1

The Guests Dream

My wife and I lived in a small place in this dream. It was outside and had no walls or roof. Nor, I later learned, did it have a private bathroom.

As said, it was small, tiny, really. It was all about the kitchen, dining room, and living room — without walls, which I didn’t think odd at all. Guests arrived, including cousins. Among them was one a few years younger than me who passed away in 2002 from a heart attack. He was there and in good health and I was pleased to see him. I realized that the guests meant that I needed more kitchen space. Of critical concern was that I make a place for them to make coffee and sit and enjoy the coffee — and BTW, Christmas was on the way, according to my guests. Some began putting up colored electric lights and other decorations.

I set up what I thought would suit the guests, a small, squared off space with an elaborate coffee maker on the left, and a sitting area on the right. My deceased cousin complained about it IAW his nature. I deflected his complaints with good nature. His mother arrived and made observations and suggestions. As I began explanations about the arrangements and my logic, I cut myself off. “Wait. You’re right! That would be better.” I commenced making the change.

Finishing, I stepped away from our square, wall-free, roofless, ‘home’. Around us was a park with swing sets, seesaws, and slides in use by screaming, laughing, chattering children. After surveying them, I turned and spotted two huge bears lumbering by. Worrying about the children, I turned to warn them. They’d spotted the bears. Quieting, they’d climbed bleachers and were waiting for the bears to leave. The bears left without incident.

I went to use the restroom. In dreamstyle, I turned and stepped and was upstairs in a white building. This, I knew, was a stick and wood building three stories tall. I was on the third floor in a hall. A square antechamber was on my right. I faced white doors spread out in the hall and antechamber in an odd and haphazard fashion. Black numbers labeled the doors one to five. The bathrooms, I realized. As I went to select number five, I realized there was a sixth and shifted toward it. As I did, a young woman in loose black shirt and pants accosted me, explaining that the rooms were shared and she was scheduled to use one of them to give a massage and a bath to a client. She said, “You need to reserve the room for your use.” As she talked, she crossed to a wall and took a clipboard with a yellow shirt of paper on it. “We use this to reserve the rooms. I suggest you use it as well.”

I countered with another suggestion, which were cards by the doors, which indicated if they were in use or available.

Dream end.

2

The Dream, the Cat, the Boy

No people were visible in this dream. No bodies.

I never saw myself. I faced a wide and featureless brown plain. The sky was a striking crystal blue, like a clear sky seen opposite sunrise after the sun clears obstacles and takes the stage.

On the horizon were low brown mountains, the same color as the plain. A sense of dustiness was implied but no dust was ever seen.

Three objects equally spaced apart floated above the mountains. Outlined in jagged red, their interiors were hot white gold. Black letters scrolled within the white gold. I could see they were words but couldn’t read them.

A male guide was beside me; I never saw him. He said, “Those are your choices. You need to make a choice.”

Utter bewilderment on my side met this. “I don’t know what you mean. What are they?” Staring at them brought no elucidation. I half woke and thought of them. Drifting back into sleep, the scene returned, except I was much closer to the mountains and the three objects. They seemed larger to me. I still couldn’t read the words. The side boundaries were jagged but the top and bottom borders were smooth half-arcs. The guide mentioned choosing them. I replied, “Can’t I integrate them?” No answer.

I drifted from the dream toward consciousness, working on recalling what I’d seen and then returned to it. I was much closer. The objects were huge. Instead of being spread across the horizon, they were stacked. I said, “I think I can move them, but I don’t know what they are. I don’t know why I’d move them.”

The cat, Tucker brought me out of sleep. The dream stayed with me. Tucker did something he’d never done that I can recall. He laid down opposite me, his face facing mine, his head on a pillow. Purring, he stretched his front legs out, put his paws on my shoulder, and kneaded me. I drifted back to the dream. No changes manifested. The words kept scrolling, like the lines in a book. I still couldn’t read them.

That dream moved to my mind’s right side. The guide was with me but silent. On my mind’s left side, another dream arose. I was a young boy, sitting on the ground in a field of green weeds by a barbed wire fence. I clearly saw and knew it as me. The sun was rising to my right, and I turned and looked toward it.

I stirred myself into waking. Both dreams remained, one on the right, the other on the left, slowly receding. Both remain, faint and distant as galaxies in the sky, present on either side of my mind.

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Chaotic Clothing Dream

Everything whizzed by in this dream. With few exceptions, chaos ruled.

I began by entering some sort of dark, busy pavilion. Plants hung down from the rafters. The inside was filled with tables. It could have been something like a flea market but I never knew for certain. As I walked around, I visited with a dog, petting and talking to him. Coming to another entrance, I then encountered a large, black dog. I reached out to visit with him. I snapped his teeth at me and then began growling. I shrugged it off and walked. The dog followed me, growling me. I turned and told him to stop and then threatened to hit him with a sock I had in my hand. The dog backed off.

I continued. Some people (hazy) asked me questions. I seemed to know them. I answered and then told them that I need to change my clothes. I went to do this and realized my clotherees were in suitcases. After finding one, I realized my other suitcases were elsewhere. I knew exactly where, though, and rushed to them. But then it was like, okay, what will I wear, oh, the underwear is in the other suitcase, there’s the light blue sweat I wanted, all while answering others’ questions as they walked past me or stood behind me.

Dream end

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