Tag: Dream

The Wife Dream

My wife and I were young people, in our early twenties, staying in a hotel in Korea. We had separate rooms; I don’t know why. It was a busy place, with chaotic rules that I couldn’t grasp. I was also constantly trying to change my underwear. Whenever I’d get somewhere private where I thought that I could, others would barge in on me, lighting up the high exasperation warning light.

My wife and I finally met in a crowded hallway outside of my room. We made plans to go see the sights and such but I first wanted a hair cut. I went down to the barber. One woman took money from me and gave me a chit. Another took the chit and gave me a second chit. A third took that chit and ushered me into a queue. I decided to wash my hair while waiting, thinking that would make it easier to cut. When it was my turn, they rinsed off my hair and sent me on my way. I asked my wife what she thought of it, and she replied that it was worse that before. I saw my hair in a mirror; it was long, thick, wavy, and black. I needed to have it cut but my wife was impatient to go on.

We heard people talking about going to Singapore. The way they talked, Singapore was an immediate neighbor. I was surprised; in my opinion, Singapore isn’t close to Korea and would take some hours of flying to reach it. I decided that my geography knowledge was wrong.

Acting listless and irritated, my wife kept wandering off and doing silly things, like snatching papers from other people to read, then throwing the papers aside. People were getting vexed with her, and so was I. We went outside to get a break from the crowds. Going outside, we ended up on a cliff path.

A gorgeous, lightly clouded sky was overhead. The path cut through thick green bushes that were waist high. She ran ahead when my back was turned. When I saw what she’d done, I ran after her. As I was catching her, she went off on another path, like she didn’t want me to catch her. Saying, “Screw it,” I kept running. Let her try to catch me. After running another forty yards, I stopped and looked back. I didn’t see her. I waited for a few minutes to see if she would show. When she didn’t, I shrugged.

It was time for her to start looking for me. Turning, I walked on.

The dream ended.

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The Muses Dream

Oh, what a writing dream. It was a dark venue, inside somewhere. Lights were small and focused. I could see myself off to one side with a notebook and pen at a table. I was writing, but the book’s actions were playing out on a stage as I wrote. I appeared to be a giant beside it. What I wrote surprised. I’d been thinking about the novel in progress as I drifted to sleep and scenes that were to come. In the dream, though, things took a sharp turn. Little mischievous creatures took over. Pale white, short and squat, they were sexless, with no eyes and big smiles. Then I realized in the dream, “There are four of them?” I was trying to fit four into the scheme. Awakening, I thought about this, and then discovered I was dreaming about thinking about the dream, experiencing it as a dream in a dream, prompting thoughts of nesting dolls. Another voice announced with a chortle, “That’s the muses having fun.” Then I really awoke, wondering, WTH?

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The Shooting/Driving Dream

Back in a sports car for this dream. In this case, the car was a white C5 Corvette convertible.

The top was retracted on the car. I began by getting ready to leave. Some folks were watching me from a viewing stand. Examining how I was to leave, I decided that I would drive my white Corvette down a short chute and up the other side. With enough speed and traction, I should be able to scale the wall on the side, reach the white carpet on top and drive away. After explaining this to others, I deemed this a risky but do-able shortcut. I then did it as a practice run, to prove it could be done.

Satisfied, I stood aside to wait for the time to leave. Enveloped by a sunny day, blessed with blue sky, I was dressed in a white sweater and white pants. Out of the car, I stood around with my arms crossed. The chute, wall, and viewing stand were also white of various degrees from white sand to egg shell and pure white. While I was waiting, confident and smiling, enjoying a refreshing breeze, others approached me. They’d witnessed my shooting, they told me, and were impressed, confirming that I’d shot eleven bullets into eleven pre-existing holes without damaging the holes or missing. This was an earlier competition that I’d won. After accepting their compliments, the time to leave arrived. I drove my car as I’d done before, but didn’t quite reach the white carpet on top. Lacking traction, the car fell back, not like a car would, though, but more like a person, ‘catching’ itself as it fell. It suffered no damage; neither did I.

A man on the viewing stand said with a sniff, “I knew he wouldn’t do it. It just demonstrates that he’s a braggart.” As they turned to leave, I returned in my car, drove down the chute, and completed the departure as planned. None were there to witness it, but I still felt vindicated.

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A Jag Dream

Back into cars for last night’s dream. This car didn’t belong to me, but to a late uncle. He never owned a car like this, to my knowledge.

The car was a silver 1967 Jaguar E-type roadster. Calling it silver, I want to stipulate that it was so bright and polished, it seemed almost chromium. Absolutely stunning.

I was agog over it in the dream, where I was a young man in my late teens. He’d given me the honor of cleaning it and I did a damn thorough job. Afterwards, I proudly showed him what I’d done, opening the doors, bonnet, and trunk to display my results. He was duly impressed. After I returned his keys to him, he returned them to me. Turning away, he tossed a walk off: “Why don’t you take it for a drive.” Delighted and incredulous, I replied, “Are you serious?”

“Sure,” he answered. “You earned it.”

(I couldn’t find a photo of a silver Jag roadster, and none could be as silver as the one in my dream. Sorry, but this will need to suffice to show what kind of car it was.)

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The BMW M1 Dream

I dreamed I was driving a BMW M1 in a dream last night. The road was slushy and snowy and the car was dark green. I was having a ball sliding the powerful, capable car around curves and slamming down straights, managing the direction as the car attempted to fishtail and spin.

Awakening and thinking about the dream kept a smile on my face. Although I know of the BMW M1, I’ve never actually seen one. It’s a rare model. Research shows it was produced from 1978 to 1981, with four hundred fifty-three cars built. A mid-engine mounted sports car, it was powerful and capable, with output coming from a straight six engine. Top speed was 164 MPH and 0-60 MPH was about 6.4 seconds. These aren’t brilliant numbers these days, but back then, that performance put it in a special category.

Of course, the query in my head is why that car in that dream? I often think of my dream cars as representing me. It’s pleasing now to think that I’m a rare but outdated exotic sports car who used to be capable of performance that impressed others. Carrying the analogy further, now I’m just an old rarity, long out of production, and infrequently seen.

I like the green in the snow though, you know? You can see why, right?

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Deer Grove Fields Dream

I’d arrived at a convention. Hugely crowded. I realized two events were being held simultaneously; one was some sort of military retirement celebration. The other was a writing conference. I was there for the latter.

I arrived alone but soon saw other writers who I knew. We milled and spoke together, trying to grasp where we’re supposed to go. I joked to others about the confluence, as I found the situation mildly humorous. We drifted apart, trying to find where to go. I wanted a place to sit down, wait for the crowd to thin out, and then find where I was to go. I was working on the impression that the military event had ended, and then the writing thing would begin.

I encountered a military person whom I knew slightly. I asked what was going on. He told me that the Chief had retired. Making small talk, I asked, “Oh, where was he stationed last?” “Deer Grove Fields,” the other replied, and departed. I’d never heard of that place and wondered if I’d heard right.

I saw another writing friend. She was wearing a blue skirt and a blue top. She mentioned that she’d met the Chief, describing him as a fascinating person. He’d been stationed at Deer Grove Fields. As we nodded and talked, I realized that she was clearing tables. Apparently she was working there.

Tables were all filled but it was a communal system with strangers sharing tables. Finding a place, I sat. Another writing friend, Jill, a small, older woman with short hair, was at the table. I knew that she’d just won an award for a story she’d written. After congratulating her, I asked what she was working on as I set up my laptop. She told me, “Nothing,” and then said, “Deer Grove Fields.” I realized that’s what the others had said but didn’t understand why she said it now. I assumed she was trying to remember something and when it came to her, she’d said it aloud. Then she said, “That’s where the Chief was assigned.”

The dream ended.

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A Loaded Dream

This dream held so many elements. They happened in parallel but I broke them out to think about each nugget.

  1. I was preparing to travel and return home. I was visiting Mom and other my sisters in the east. Throughout, I was trying to determine what time I needed to leave. I was driving and flying. As I thought about when I was leaving, I thought in terms of minutes and had a stack of dimes. Each dime represented one minute. Did I have enough dimes? Stacking them, I had more than enough.
  2. My youngest sister (often referred to as my ‘littlest’ century, though she’s been alive for over half a century and have two sons in their teens) and her friend were missing. They’d gone on a walk. A storm was coming in and hours had gone by. As time passed and our worries increased, I tried calling her on her phone and sending her text messages. By the end, the messages were, “Call when you get this. We’re worried.”
  3. I’d bought land on top of cliffs. Located on the coast, growing ocean waves were pummeling it. I was thinking about building a seawall on top of it to protect it. I had a view out my window of the cliffs and the waves, which were about a half mile away.
  4. My car was located in a parking garage with others’ cars. At one point, heavy machinery came by and started tearing the parking structure down. Accosting the foreman, I said with some outrage, “My car is parked in that structure in a lower level, along with others.” The others had come out and were nodding and agreeing. The foreman mocked and laughed us while talking about how strong the structure was, that nothing would happen to our cars on the lower decks, but he stopped further activity and walked off looking concerned.
  5. Mom kept finding clothing and items left behind from other visits, such as a gray leather wallet, a black belt, and a pale gray sports coat. The coat was so pale, it was almost white. As I collected these things, I was trying to fit them into my luggage. Remembering the jacket, I decided that I would wear it on my travels home. The gray wallet was in excellent shape, but was empty. I knew it was mine, however, recalling when I bought it in Korea.
  6. A high school friend was present. He kept making suggestions about things to do. When he came up with something, he wrote it down and dated it so it’d be documented when he’d came up with the ideas, so he’d get credit. One of the ideas he’d come up with was building a sea wall on the cliff. I’d already come up with that idea, I explained to him, but it slide off like soft butter on a hotter knife. I started writing things down, too, backdating some of them, so I had proof that I’d thought of them first.
  7. As I packed, I kept trying to decide where to put things and what I wanted to have on me while traveling. While I did that, I found that I had three wallets. How’d I get three wallets? What should I do with them? Having three amused me but I wasn’t surprised.

A lot to think about with this one.

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A Repairing & Painting Dream

I was in a place of business. What business? I knew in the dream but that knowledge wasn’t transferred when I awoke.

We were fixing up the place. I’m not certain if we were preparing for visitors or if we were selling the place and moving out. That seemed uncertain, like it was possible that both were happening. We were painting the place a soft white in some places and a pale blue in other areas. I was directly doing or organizing most of the work and explaining to others what had been done, what’d failed, and what needed to be done. Walking around, I pointed out places where damage had been painted over on the walls, especially on the wall to the right, by the corner, and ceiling, telling them, “That needs to be redone. We need to fix it before it’s painted, because you can see the damage, and if you can see the damage, it’s probably worst underneath.” All were nodding and agreeing.

Later, I changed clothes and walked to my car to leave. My new clothes were a light blue shirt with tan pants and jacket. When I reached my car, I realized that I didn’t have the key fob; I’d left that in my other pants. Irritated with myself for overlooking the key fob, I stood and debated about what to do, as if there was a choice, right? Accepting it, I began walking back.

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Trains & Cars – A Dream

I was a young middle-aged man, about thirty yeas old, I’d say. Outside was a place where organizers had built a huge platform for HO-scale cars and trains. These are the moderately small things but not the really small or tiny ones. The layout was huge. Workers were in a center pit. From there, they could go anywhere to reach the cars, trains, and track.

I ended up as one of the people allowed to play there. I first built cars. You These models were replicas of famous sports racing cars through the decades. My main car in the dream was a white Chaparral 2E.

Young people were there to help. A group of teenage girls controlled the parts stock. I’d go to them to request parts and supplies. Young boys were always willing to paint things for you for a small fee.

After perfecting my Chaparral’s looks and performance, I began practicing on the long track. The racing car controller was a pistol type, with a light trigger. That made it harder to modulate the speed through corners. I had all but section of track mastered within a short time. The one part was right by the end. I knew it was a curve but it wasn’t visible to me.

After wrecking out on that one place multiple times, I went up to take a closer look at that particular corner and discovered that it was like a parking garage corkscrew. It reminded me of Laguna Seca’s famous corkscrew, which had a blind approach before diving into curves and descending eleven hundred feet at speed. I told everyone there that’s what it reminded me of, then set it aside to deal with later.

For now, I’d play with my trains. A young boy had been painting them for me to forge detailed realism. It was with great pride that I set them on the track and started running it. This train wasn’t short, but was one hundred and two cars long. All went well for a bit, and then my train derailed.

A pit person went to retrieve my train and set it up again. The derailment had taken place at an area accessible to me, so I went there, too. As the pit man set it up, he gave one car to me, saying it was damaged. As I took it, another person came up. I recognized Jeff, a person I haven’t seen in thirty-five years. The man gave Jeff an identical car to my car. I believed it was my car, that I’d had two, but the pit person didn’t understand what I was trying to say. That’s where it all ended.

It was an interesting and vivid dream. My other sharply recalled dream was about a job I had counting prostitutes, but it’s really too weird to go into. For one thing, some of the girls would disappear into smoke when I would try to count them. For another, I didn’t know why I was counting, a question that I kept pursuing, without ever finding an answer.

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A Short Diamond Dream

A weird but short one. This dream came after a series of others, and is the sharpest remembered of the bunch.

I was outside, standing in sunshine on a sharp, richly green cliff with a strong wind buffeting me. Two people were climbing down below me. I couldn’t see much of them for heavy foliage, but the top person had my diamond. The cut and polished diamond was huge, and this person was stealing it. I knew this; while I couldn’t see much of the person, I could see them holding the diamond aloft as they descended.

I couldn’t let them get away! Looking around, I discovered a heavy monofilament fishing line. A little investigation revealed that it was attached to my diamond. Tugging the line, I pulled the diamond free and began drawing it back up to me.

The dream ended.

Told you it was weird.

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