Tag: Dream

The Lawyer Dream

Dreamed I was a lawyer. But the courtroom looked like a giant, lit tic-tac-toe, noughts and crosses, or Xs and Os. Standing before the court, it towers over me and my partner, a woman (no one recognized from life) and appears about five stories high. Instead of three across, it was five across.

There’s no idea what the trials were about. I was in a dark suit and carried a brief case, and she was in a light blue skirt and jacket, also carrying a brief case. Presenting arguments meant providing cubes. I’d just put it up there and the cube would slot into place. Putting two in a row meant I’d created a strong argument and would cause those two cubes to light up. Three in a row meant I won.

I kept winning with ease. More and more opposing lawyers rose to stop me but I kept winning. “This is ridiculous,” I told the woman accompanying me.

“I know,” she answered. “It seems like a waste of time. Do you want to go?”

“Sure.” We left.

The cube idea reminded me of how cases were argued in a 1974 novel by Lloyd Biggle, Jr., called Monument, except the cubes in my dream were much, much larger.

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The Unlocked Doors Dream

I was in a city. Busy, busy, busy, I was trying to take shortcuts to get from one place to another.

As I rushing along, I saw an MG TC. In beautiful shape, I was familiar with the car, and was aware that an elderly man owned it.

What the hell, I thought. I’ll take that. Then I’ll return it to him later.

The car was cream-colored, it’s top down. It fired up immediately. Off I went. The drive was magnificent. Its smooth ride amazed me. Driving on residential streets through autumn weather, I encountered no traffic, stop lights, or stop signs. It put a smile on my face.

As I arrived at my destination, guilt and worry struck. How was I going to get the car back from here? Why did I take it? What’s wrong with me? He’s an old man and that car is his treasure. He’s going to worry about it.

Another man came along. As though aware of my thinking, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll get the car back to him and take care of it. Go on.”

I was reluctant; this didn’t seem right. But the man had already taken the car and was gone.

I turned and went on, entering the building. Inside was a cypher-lock door. I entered the combo but it didn’t work. Others were arriving. No one knew the cypher code. “He must have changed it,” I said. Finding a phone, I called to get help, dialing extension 2884, which used to the telephone extension used for U.S. Air Force command posts around the world. Whatever base you were on, if you called that extension, you could reach the command post.

I dialed it but the door was unlocked as I did, and then an old friend opened the door from the other side. He said, “I saw you on the monitor and came out to let you in.” As we entered, I headed for ‘my’ door. “Oh, no, my door is unlocked,” I said with worry. “All the doors must be unlocked.”

“No,” my friend said. “I just unlocked your doors for you.”

The dream ended.

Image from MGexp.com/registry. Sorry, not my car.

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More Stormy Dreams

A series of powerful, uplifting dreams rolled through me last night.

Each one presented an unusual or alarming situation, and all had to do with weather phenomena. I often dream about weather. It’s like a standard element in my dreams. I suspect that’s true for many people.

In the first dream, I was striving to go up a sparsely vegetated steep mountainside. I felt it imperative that I reach the top. Strong winds were slamming me back. Not only did it seem like the winds were slowing me down, but seeing a precipice not far away, I thought, “I’m going to blow off this mountain.” Trying to hang onto something, anything, damn it, everything kept falling away. First a walking stick snapped in half. Shoved back past trees, I lunged for branches. I missed at first, then caught some, which promptly broke. Though I windmilled my arms to grab another branch, the wind took me from the trees.

Dropping to the ground — whether I fell or did this deliberately wasn’t clear — I saw a handle in the earth. Seizing it, I thought, why is there a handle here, and then gathered, its a tree root.

All this is in sharp relief because, bang, I awoke to the sound of the wind beating our bedroom blinds. Which, I thought, with a chortle, closing the window, was probably what prompted that dream. It’s also somewhat of a recurring dream, this against the wind on a mountainside motif.

Back asleep in seconds (so it felt), I found myself alone in a pouring rain. Was it day or night? So deep and thick was the rain, I couldn’t tell. The crashing precipitation veiled the world in heavy gray wool but also battered my face as I tried to see, forcing me to protect it with my hands. Yet, I also needed my hands to hold on.

With that realization, I saw that I was ankle deep in cold water. I needed to get somewhere higher, but looked for escape and couldn’t see any. I thought I saw something yellow but it came and went too fast for me to confirm it. Deciding there must’ve been something, I forced myself that way.

The water was over my knees and its current was increasing. Fighting the current was sapping my strength. I couldn’t see and needed my hands to hold onto something that I’d found — couldn’t tell what, and it was wet and slippery — but then let go to try to wipe rain off my face.

I fell backwards into the water. The current immediately victimized me. My head went under. I gulped water and struggled for air while fighting to stop myself and get the fuck up as the water carried me along like a leaf.

My back came up against something hard in the flood waters. I didn’t know or care what it was but used it to leverage myself up. Right then, I turned my head to get my face out of the rain, and saw a yellow light. Rectangular, it was a door or window, and very clear and yellow against the gloom. I headed for it…

And was again awakened. I don’t know what woke me — cat, wind, my mending arm in pain from being in a contorted position, or general discomfort. The dream haunted me while my mind chased connections between the first dream and the second. Similarities were easily seen. I meditated on them as a cat found me, purring in the dark as I drifted off again.

I wasn’t alone in this dream, but with friends and family. Clear and balmy, the weather didn’t seem to be a factor. I’m not sure if we were on a picnic or at a celebration or what the deal was. Everyone was chatting and laughing, and a gay mood generally prevailed. Food on platters and in bowls crowded tables.

Yet, I found myself growing wary, and while that happened, I distanced myself from the rest in search of what was disturbing me. I hunted clues for it like one of those games presented in a ‘spot the difference’ diversion in a newspaper or magazine. I felt suspicious, like I was leery of something sneaking up on me, which seemed unreasonable. The weather seemed clear and everyone seemed happy. Why shouldn’t I be relaxed and happy?

I awoke and guessed the time: yep, seven twenty-five. My cats have trained my bladder to awaken and pee then. They (the cats, not the bladder) clamored for food and attention but I wasn’t yielding to their demands. I didn’t feel rested; I wanted more sleep. Yet, oddly, reflecting on these three dreams as I lay in bed, I felt fortified, like I’d endured something and came out stronger. And my mood, when I finally acquiesced to the inevitable and got out of bed twenty minutes later, seemed upbeat.

All these dreams are part of my regular dreamscape, presenting some variation of theme. This time, I thought they were like a weather storm system, moving through and clearing my subconscious as fronts will do in a region. It feels like that, because the day seems hopeful with promise.

Or just maybe, that’s the coffee.

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Licorice & Coin Dream

I was taking a class in something somewhere, and hanging out with relative strangers. During lunch break, I sat with some, looking at my schedule and talking with them. As I delved into the schedule, I scrolled down and discovered a hidden section. Using sorting options, I gradually realized that it was the future.

After checking out my future and listening to others, I began telling them their future. “How do you know that?” several asked.

I told them what I’d found and began showing them how to do it themselves. Most struggled with it, though.

It was lunch time and I still hadn’t eaten. A bunch of us went walking to find food. It seemed like we walked through an outdoor mall. Food options were there but they were expensive and time-consuming, and none appealed to me. I complained, nostalgically remembering when I’d take college classes in the military and run into the exchange to buy a two-dollar cheeseburger.

We came to a dusty little shop. I entered with a few others. Still looking for something to eat, I found a bag of licorice for two dollars. Not nutritious, but I could share it with others, was cheap, and would stave off my immediate hunger.

As I was buying, I realized that taxes would make it $2.01. Looking for a penny and asking others if they had a penny so I could avoid getting ninety-nine cents in change, I found a huge gold coin on the floor. I thought at first it could be a shiny new penny, but it was two big, and it was gold, not copper. Picking it up, I examined it. Besides being gold, it had copper segment in it. About the size of a silver dollar, a geometric design surrounded the best of a man, and an unrecognized language.

I concluded that it was token, not a coin. Holding it up to the shopkeeper, I asked with some cheek, “Can I use this?” In good humor, he replied, “I’ll take it off your hands.” Something about how he said it made me think it was worth more than I was assigning it. I asked him what it was, but he never answered. My transaction was finished. I opened the bag of licorice and offered some to others.

The dream ended.

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The Camp Shower Dream

I was at a camp. Everyone at the camp were sitting in a large building with orange wooden walls. The building had three rooms. One was a small shower. The largest room was filled with rectangular orange wooden tables and chairs. The third room was small and bare.

All the campers were in the room with the tables. Most were seated at tables, but a few were standing. I was standing, back behind the leader to one side. The leader looked just like Enrico Colantoni, the actor. He made an announcement that everyone was going first be allowed to take a shower. People began getting up and moving toward the shower, located on the end of the table room.

I told the leader, “You can’t do that like that. It’ll be chaos. People in the shower will come out and have nowhere to go because everyone will be waiting to go into the shower. It needs to be organized. Have everyone leave the room and go wait outside. Call them in one table at a time.”

He dismissed the idea, but I kept preaching it to him until he capitulated. As he explained the plan to the assembly, I walked around the third room. Empty except for broken extra furniture, I listened, kicking furniture pieces as I did.

I realized that it was cold outside, so sending people out to wait wasn’t a good idea. Returning to the main room, I saw it was already empty. Six people were emerging from the shower, the first group.

I told the leader my concerns about people waiting in the cold. He said, “They’re okay, they’re waiting in their cars and running the heat as they need to.”

I reacted, “They have cars?” That surprised me.

The dream ended.

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The Trump Dream Segment

In the middle of my dreams was a segment featuring Donald J. Trump.

We were evacuating somewhere. The reasons for that were unclear. It was a watery place, more like a large lake or ocean than river or flood.

I was somehow involved with organizing it because, it’s my dream, right? We’re following OPLAN 1067. I don’t know if such an operations plan exists, but that’s the dream’s claim. For that, we need aircraft.

They’re being acquired. This is like the planning phase of the evacuation.

Donald J. shows up. We all get respectful, waiting to let him speak. He says, “You know what your problem is. You got too many planes.”

We’re all puzzling this out. We’re following the OPLAN. OPLANs follow painstaking processes and are based on past learning experiences. The OPLAN dictates how many planes we should have.

Although I’m not the head honcho, I’m about to point this out to Trump when the head honcho does. “We’re following OPLAN 1067. It calls for us to have sixty-seven aircraft.”

Trump then replies, “What’s an OPLAN?”

That leaves us all gaping and speechless. I answer, “OPLAN is an acronym for operational plan, a formal plan to address a problem or situation.”

Getting testy, Trump replies, “I know what an OPLAN is.” Then he turns to leave and says again, “You have too many planes.”

Then he’s gone.

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Layers of Dreams

I was walking, and needed to cross the street to get my car. I decided to sell that car and get a new car. A new car wasn’t available, so I kept walking.

It was a suburban street, one like a winding paved street through a housing sub-division. My mother came by in a car. She was driving a big green convertible. The top was down. Ice cubes filled the back.

She stopped to offer me a ride. I said, “Why are you driving this big boat?” It looked like a ’63 Lincoln. She replied, “It’s my car.”

“Why is the back was filled with ice?”

“In case I need it.”

Thinking, why would anyone need so much ice, I got in the car. She said. “Of course, I really shouldn’t be driving. I’m drunk.”

I said, “Let me drive,” and opened the door to get out. My wallet fell onto the street. I kicked it a little ways away. As I went to get it, my mother drove off. I could see her looking in her rearview, so I kept shaking my head.

I went into a store to buy a new car. As I walked around, I encountered others and realized that I wasn’t wearing a mask. Finding a mask, I put it on and continued walking around. I encountered many others without masks. I always asked them, “Why aren’t you wearing a mask?” They began avoiding me and leaving the store.

I was at home. People were coming for a meeting. I was preparing snacks for them. Mom was helping. I arranged food on plates. My wife came up with a large platter of uncut cheeses. “What should we do with these?” she asked.

“Cut them and put them out,” I replied. Then, I cut them all with one knife, making little slices as Mom and my wife watched. As I was placing the slices on plates with other food, someone said, “The plan is changed. We won’t be eating. We’re meeting someone else.”

My wife asked, “What do we do with this cheese?”

I answered, “Wrap it up.” Then I wrapped it up, to show her what I meant.

I still needed a car. Going outside, I found a gleaming black machine. I circled it, admiring it from different perspectives. “I think this is my car,” I told a friend who came by.

He laughed. “Of course it is.” Seeing confusion on my face, he said, “It’s always been your car.”

Dream end.

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The Fingerprints Dream

I was working for a company whose mission seemed to be tracking fingerprints on the Internet. A young and brilliant bearded guy was our leader. Many young people worked there.

I’m not certain of my responsibilities with this company. I also had a second job with the NSA. When I came into work at the company, they told me, “We can’t find any traces of you on the Internet. Your fingerprints are completely missing.” They took some time to explain that was very unusual.

I resumed working but kept thinking about what they were saying. I knew that the NSA was always covering my tracks and hiding my fingerprints. I suspected something they were doing was spreading to other activities.

I took my suspicions to the CEO and engineering time. They didn’t know I was working for the NSA but thought that what I was suggesting was possible.

It was time to party. The company was celebrating a milestone. As part of that, they were re-creating early scenes from the company. Everyone but me was involved. I hadn’t been there, so I stayed back to watch. It mostly involved people singing, dancing, and laughing.

The CEO visited with me. “Do you want some tea?”

“Sure,” I said.

We were both lying down, which is how we worked there. He turned. Behind his back was a small white tray with two tiny white cups and a small and delicate teapot and creamer.

He handed me a thimble-sized cup. I reached for the pot to fill it but discovered it already full.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Wheatberry.”

I drank it down. It scalded my throat but tasted fantastic.

“Wow,” I said. “That’s amazing. I feel like it’s a shot of energy.”

Nodding, the CEO answered, I”It is,” and walked away.

The dream ended.

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Cosmic Construction

I don’t know what woke me. The wind was imitating a full-throttled gas leaf blower outside the window, hammering the house walls with whatever it could find to fling (yeah, that’s how it sounded). One cat was on the bed, and the wife was restless.

I think, though, it was pain. I’d somehow rolled around while I slept, ending up with my mending arm and hand bent underneath my weight. The hand was crying, and was too stiff to straighten at all.

I massaged it and listened to the wind beating the world, wondering what it was doing to our garden, trash can, roof, and everything else. After a bit of that, I adjusted my hand in a safe space elevated on a pillow and settled back into sleeping mode.

The dream slyly crept in. Someone said, “Yes, we have the body before us. We can see the injuries and damages and know how to repair them. We are sending thousands of cosmic construction teams to the area.”

My wife tapped me awake. “It’s really scary outside. The wind is blowing hard and steady.”

“I know. I hear it.”

My Fitbit said, 5:25. I was miffed to be awakened and eager to return to sleep. The dream still had my thoughts entangled. I pictured the cosmic construction teams and their work. I imagined them with nano-sized machines up beside my bones, muscles, and joints. Hard hats on, they’re looking around and chatting, tapping their feet, arms crossed, assessing damages, deciding on a plan. Then the word is given and they go to work.

It was an amusing, yet wonderful and reassuring thought, that somewhere in me, cosmic construction teams are going to work.

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Quite A Dream

A snake in a bag was included, and a cat, along with crystal stemware and stairs. Oh, and Matthew McConaughey. It ended with music.

I’d arrived, alone, at a large conference center, one of those mega places, part mall, part hotel and restaurants, and offices. A clean and busy place, I was there to do some work on my own.

Walking along the main corridor, I spotted a young woman in a large island shop. All glass, she had it fenced off on all sides, and the top. As I came closer, I realized it was because she had a black and white cat with her, and her arrangements were to keep the cat in.

I struck a benign conversation up with her and petted her cat, then continued on. Veering to one side, I entered a place loaded with tables. Finding an empty one, I unpacked my gear and set to work.

An attractive woman on one side began flirting with me. She was young, with blonde hair. An equally attractive young brunette woman on my other side then engaged me.

That put me on a high cloud, to be flirted with in that way. I reciprocated, then checked the time and decided I’d worked enough. Standing and packing my gear, I saw myself in a mirror. My appearance pleased me.

Saying bye to the women, I wondered around the bright, clean complex. Busy, nothing of interest drew my attention so I drifted back the other day.

A large canvas bag was thrown out in front of me. As I went around it, I realized it was holed, and then saw a large and angry snake was inside it. After watching for some seconds, I clarified that it was a large and angry rattlesnake, and it was trying to get out.

I worried about the young woman and her cat. Going to her, I told her about the snake. She decided she’d close and leave, to protect her cat.

I’d decided to leave. Shouldering my backpack with a glance back toward the bag with the snake (it may have escaped, I thought), I went down the stairs.

A stack of crystal stemware blocked the middle of the narrow staircase. Right and left of it were trays of dirty dishes.

It looked like dining tables had been bused, but they’d not taken the dirties away, which pissed me off. I turned around to report this to the receptionist, but she was on the phone.

Well, I wanted to leave. I carefully picked my way through the mess and made it without disturbing anything.

Free. I headed toward the exit.

Matthew McConaughey plowed into me. “Did you know that with one thin dime, you can be a free and wealthy man?”

I kept walking. Matthew was a friend, but I didn’t want to hear this now. “Get away from me, Matthew. I’m not interested.” He held up a dime.

“Not interested.” He walked with me. “I’m talking about a great opportunity. Do you have one thin dime, Michael?”

At that moment, I heard music on the loudspeaker and stopped. “Listen.”

“To what am I listening?” Matthew asked.

“The music. Recognize it?”

“I do not.”

“It sounds like the beginning of Deep Purple doing “Highway Star'” on their live album.”

“I don’t know it.”

Matthew’s response amazed me. “You don’t know it?”

The music began, and I was right about the song.

The dream ended.

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