Tag: Dream

The Broken Glass Dream

At the dream’s beginning, I groaned; not another military dream.

No, it isn’t, my mind rebutted. It dawned on me in the dream that I wasn’t in the military but many people were wearing uniforms.

I was heading to work with tons of other folks. I wore a light blue shirt and dark blue pants, which reminded me of my Air Force uniform, but I saw that it wasn’t. Somehow, I was first to leave and head off. A herd followed me.

I rounded a corner and stopped at a stone wall. Everyone else drew up. Checking the time, I explained, “It’s not opened yet. It’ll open in a moment.”

The wall drew aside, revealing a tunnel. Stepping forward, I drove in a car on a heavily-traveled highway, and then stepped into a busy, busy office.

While greeting others and exchanging banter, I searched for my schedule. Where was I supposed to be today? What was I supposed to be today? I’d just found my schedule and was reviewing it when the boss (a middle-aged bald guy) pulled me aside to go on a special assignment with a woman.

I resisted and complained. I was supposed to be doing something else. The change annoyed me. Boss insisted, though. The woman, who is sketchy and never clearly seen, was ignoring me, irritating me more.

Capitulating, I entered a doorway. Followed by the woman, I went up steps into a control room. It was in a giant Godzilla robot head. Guided by the woman, I began driving and controlling the huge machine.

We marched through a city, looking down on everyone. It seemed like we were just checking things, confirming that everything was going as it was supposed to be.

Shift ended, I stepped into a crowded bar. I thought it was, then saw that it was a communal home. I had a large slushy raspberry-colored drink but the glass broke. The drink contents hung in my hand without a glass. It started to slop apart, but I caught it and kept it together

I moved to set this aside while trying to catch the glass shards. They fell into a stream of fast-moving water that ran through the giant living room.

Our mother, an elderly woman, turned up, demanding to know whose drink that was hanging in the air. I told her that it was mine, that the glass had broke, and the pieces had fallen into the water. I wanted to go after the pieces. Other people said, “No, don’t worry about it,” but Mother said that she was worried about the glass in the water because others might step on it and get hurt.

Agreeing, I stepped into the water. Very warm, it carried me down to a clear, calm pool. Nobody else was present. Stopping there, I looked into the water and found the pieces.

Dream end.

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Depressing Dream

The highlight of this depressing dream…

My wife and I were in a car’s backseat. A man was driving. We were on what seemed like an unpaved road. Hard to say; it was snow covered.

Suddenly, ahead – a fawn.

The driver was talking and slow to react.

Then, “I think I hit it.”

The car is stopped. We’re all looking back. I’m saying to my wife, “I’m not surprised, he wasn’t paying attention.” The car behind us avoid us.

Then, a big tanker truck arrives.

The fawn did not make it.

The tanker truck didn’t even slow.

Yeah, depressing. Definitely an anxiety dream about the present, about people not caring, not paying attention, and being helpless to do jack about it.

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The Wealthy Friend Dream

I dreamed I had a wealthy friend. We were both young men. He came from a wealthy family, and I was lower middle class.

But he was friendly and generous, insisting that I take his car. His car was white; sleek and flat, it looked like a clam. It doesn’t relate to any car I’ve known in real life, but in the dream world, I knew it was rare and worth several million dollars. Dangling the white square on a chain that that was the key, he kept telling me, “Take my car, use it.” I was reluctant because of its price but because I also knew it was his father’s car.

Eventually, though, I accepted. The doors were gullwing type (as seen on the MB 300 SL coupe back in the 50s and early 60s, or the later Bricklin or Delorean). I entered. The luxurious, tech-loaded interior entranced me. Driving it was amazing. Silent and powerful, everything was effortless — and it literally flew. A press of the button took it over the traffic. Amazing.

I returned to his home. He insisted that I use the car. His mother, too, who told me, “Use it whenever you want.” Okay.

Meanwhile, they wanted to feed me. Not wanting to be seen as a moocher, I declined.

Spin the dream world. I’m now in school in a creative writing class. It’s packed. I’m new to the class and a bit withdrawn and introspective, as I tend to be.

The female instructor tells us some rules, then announces that someone has died. We all react with surprise and grief. A collection for flowers is being taken up. I go up to make a donation.

I plan to donate twenty dollars. Second thoughts strike because it’s almost all I have. The twenty-dollar bill is in my hand. The collection jar is on another male student’s desk, as it was passed over to him. He and a female student are collecting and coordinating the donations. I realize, though, that the male student seems to be pocketing some of the money. I’m not sure. decide, though, to just give ten dollars, as I’ve seen others do. Seeing a ten in the pile of money beside the jar, I attempt to surreptitiously get it and put my twenty in. The woman does something, though, and knocks the jar over. It doesn’t break, but the money is a mess and it draws unwanted attention.

Dream ends.

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The Floating Dream

A brief one. I was floating in my home’s dining room, the actual place where I live. Upright, my feet were pointed toward the floor, and I was watching it pass as I floated.

Someone handed me a brown package. “This was just delivered.”

I opened it; my mother had sent me new dress shirts. The one on top was bright blue. There was also new underwear for my wife that she’d been looking for. I called out, “Mom sent me some new shirts and included new underwear for you.”

I awoke. Finding myself flat on my back on my bed, I felt disoriented. The ceiling shouldn’t be facing me, I thought. I’m floating. Sitting up, I realized that I’d been dreaming, but the floating had felt so real.

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The Restaurant Dream

What I remember of this vivid string of dreams began with me at home. This home wasn’t one that I’ve ever lived in, but a big, rambling, new place.

My cats were busy being cats but the neighbor’s cat broke in. She ate, which didn’t bother me, but then peed on the floor. I had to chase her down and put her out.

(Note: this has a lot of foundation in real life. The neighbor’s cat used to have free reign, but now, on her last legs, has constant runs, so she’s banned, the poor dear.)

Back to the dream, where my wife is in another room bathing. She’s hollering through the wall, something about how she can’t finish because I’m doing something. I don’t understand at all. Trying to communicate with her wearies me. I flee to my car.

It’s a black sports car. The day is gray and overcast, a sky associated with rainstorms. I drive to a winding section of road in a small town, park and enter a restaurant. It’s a busy old place. The waitresses are young and friendly. I order and eat (nothing that I remember) and then drink a cup of coffee. I’ve been chatting with the waitresses throughout. As I’m waiting for the bill, a woman comes over and asks me out. Surprises me. While she’s attractive, I decline, telling her, I’m married.

I get my bill. There are few customers left. Most are in line to pay. A long line, all the people in line are men. The cash register is on a small knoll outside. It’s a crazy-looking system. For some reason, I now put on my shoes. As I’m doing this, a waitress comes over and chats with me. Then she asks me out. Flattered, I decline. She’s probably a third of my age. I ask her where she would’ve taken me. She tells me to see a movie, Dora. We laugh about that and talk about that movie.

The staff asks if I can help them move some things and clean because the restaurant is changing locations tomorrow. Although I have things to do and don’t want to help, I do what I can. It’s only a few things, and there’s still a line to pay.

The line winds down. I take my leave and go to pay. The owner is the cashier. I hand him my bill, which is on a clipboard. He shows me a receipt and tells me, “It’s already been paid.”

Well, cool. I don’t know how or when, but I’m thankful. There’s no clues on the receipt, and everyone is now gone.

I return to my car. It’s still a gray day. The car is blocked in by trucks. I figure if I back up a hill, I can then leave by going down the other side of a hill. I don’t know how I figured that out. But when I go do make that maneuver, I discover my car is facing the right way. All I do is release the brake and put in the clutch and I’m going down a hill and onto the road, on my way. I do so with truckers standing around, watching me.

I drive off. The dream ends.

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The Change Dream

I’d arrived, again, at a new military assignment. How many times has this happened in my dreams?

Wearing a uniform, I checked in, found billeting, changed clothes, and wandered around, orienting myself. All this happened within a large, modern building. I was pleased to be there. Anticipation filled me.

Many young people occupied the place. Everyone seemed happy and engaged with their activities. They’d been working on projects, striking me as students. I had to wait several times as people showed off their projects to their fronts, blocking the way.

But I stayed patient, indulgent, as they were younger, and I thought them less mature, and less responsible, so they deserved some latitude.

Eventually, I was assigned my permanent quarters. Going there, I was surprised that a young male and female were in my quarters. They explained that the previous occupant had just left, and they were leaving, too.

Fine with me. I began searching for my uniform and was surprised that I couldn’t find one. How the hell was that possible? I’d worn a uniform while traveling. Yet, that was gone. I’d sent clothing on ahead, but the battle dress uniforms I’d sent on were also gone. Becoming upset and annoyed, I sought some way to purchase a uniform to carry me through until my uniforms turned up.

A sharp jolt interrupted the proceedings. I was on some steps with others when it happened. Earthquake, I immediately assumed, awaiting aftershocks, ready to run. Everyone, including me, started nervously laughing with relief when no aftershocks came, and then resumed our activities.

I heard, then, that new uniforms were on the way, not just for me, but for everyone. A massive change in how we would look was being initiated. At that point, I thought, oh, I’ve been out of the military for a while. Yes, uniforms have changed since my time. Of course they’re changing. I commented on that to a young group that I encountered.

They told me, no, everyone was being given brand new uniforms as part of a makeover. In fact, they said, new guidelines about how people were supposed to act, work, and behave were also expected. They were all excited but also anxious.

Surprised by their news, I then went searching for guidance about how I was supposed to be acting while also searching for uniforms to wear. I then concluded in an epiphany, my uniform didn’t matter. I would just do what I need to do and worry about a uniform later, if necessary.

Relieved by that, I entered a room. Busy with people doing many things, usually groups, I walked around and determined that it was a rec center with a snack bar. Smelling burgers, I decided to eat, but as I walked over to order, I saw a table of blue binders. That’s the new guidance, I deduced after some studying. I took one of those and start reading. Within a few minutes, I thought, why, this is how I’ve always acted.

I looked around to tell someone else my insight, but all were excitedly talking with one another about the new guidelines. After a few moments, I went in, and ordered a cheeseburger. There was ice cream available, too, and though it tempted me, I could smell that cheeseburger. I paid and took it to my room to eat.

I took a bite of cheeseburger and enjoyed it. It was just as promised, juicy and grilled, with onions, tomatoes, and lettuce. A stillness overtook me. Time had changed. So had the world. The things that were normal were no longer true. My little sisters had aged, my parents had aged, I had aged, my wife had aged, the world had aged.

Guidelines pushed aside, I began eating. The dream ended.

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Questioning Dreams

The two remembered dream segments from last night were questioning what was going on and what was happening next. None addressed the current news or anything, but used metaphors to express my concerns.

In the first dream exploration, I was at a start-up company. The dream featured many of the people associated with the first start-up employing me after I retired from the U.S. Air Force. A big event was happening, but it had flopped and fizzled. I was concerned; what was going to happen next? I wanted to know. I knew there’d been a plan in place, but it depended on some milestones, and weren’t due to happen for another twelve to eighteen months. What was going to happen in the meantime until then?

I kept asking people. My question confused most others but two friends said, “Here, play him the tape.” They took me into an office and played me a recording off an old-fashioned answering machine with a cassette tape. I listened but couldn’t understand any of it because it was in another language.

I told them that I didn’t understand. A woman came in to stop me from hearing the tape. One friend told the other, “Turn on the translator and play it.” The friend turned on the translator but the woman hurried me out, telling my friends, “He’s not supposed to hear that.”

So something is up, I thought. There’s a plan, but I don’t know it. I wanted to know it, and felt frustrated.

Another distraction struck in the form of the next door business. They’d closed for good. I was sorry that it’d happened. The doors were open and people were inside cleaning it out.

I went in to check it out. Bins overflowed with grain, nuts, and kibble. I said something to the effect the place needed to be cleaned up. The men told me, “Yes, that’s what we’re doing.” I asked if I could help. That amused them. “Go ahead.”

I shoveled loads of stuff into a large, wheeled silver bin. When it was full, I wheeled it out the door and parked it, setting the brake.

A young white woman happened along. A bubbly person, she wanted to know what was going on, peppering me with questions but not waiting for any answers. As I turned to return inside the store, I saw her moving my silver bin. “Careful,” I warned her.

We were on a hill. I told her, “Set the brake.” She went to do that but then turned around and started talking to other people. The bin started rolling down the hill. I shouted, “Look out.” Before I could move, it went completely down the hill and off the cliff.

I was shocked. I knew people were down below. I figured they were injured.

The woman turned around. “Where’d the bin go?”

“Down over the edge,” I replied.

She ran down to look. I followed. When we got down there, it was still going through the air. I was surprised that it hadn’t landed. It looked like it was going to hit people but landed in an empty space.

Shrugging, she walked away. “I guess everything is okay.”

The dreams ended.

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Two More Dreams

I often dream about four things: being in the military (again), cars, houses, and animals. Two of those made it into the second dream. It was the main event. First, though, came a dream snippet.

I was working on rice flavors. I came up with a new, exciting idea: cinnamon rice. Awakening, I thought, cinnamon and rice? That’s been around for eons, as in, say, rice pudding. I was quite excited in the dream, though.

My boss entered. I made my announcement.

He loved the idea. “Cinnamon and rice. That’s our new potato chip flavor.”

Whaaat? I’d been working on potato chip flavors? I was aghast, horrified, and crestfallen. Then I said, move on.

My second dream found me in a huge house. My wife and I had been living there for years, but the place surprised me with its size. Besides several levels, the house featured several wings and a huge yard.

I’d been living on the main levels, I realized, and had forgotten about the other parts. Now, remembering them, I went on a re-discovery exploration. Everything was well lit, plush and well furnished, but some of the white marble steps were dusty. I had to clean those off, I told myself.

Back in the house, my black cat was clamoring for my attention, but I had a house guest. I took her to a breakfast nook off the second dining room (the more informal one). There was a table with three chairs. Two were standard dining room chairs, white with light blue padded seats. The third, in the same motif, was on wheels and featured a wicker headrest that could be folded up to extend the back.

I presented this to my friend. I hadn’t seen here in over a decade. She’d never been to my house. Dressed in light blue and white that weirdly matched the dining room and breakfast nook, she stood there with a laptop bag over her shoulder. “Perfect.” She set her bag down. “I will write and type here.”

Good. She wouldn’t bother us there. But I said, “You’ll be facing a wall.” That was anathema to me; I liked facing a window so I could look out.

“No, I like facing walls, so I’m not disturbed,” she replied.

Weird to me. Meanwhile, I had to pick up the dogs from the vet. I went out as the van arrived, bringing them back. (Yeah, that confused me for a second; I thought I had to go get them, but no, they’d been brought to me.)

I took the dogs inside and let them go. They rushed to one bathroom. Surprised, I followed them in. There, I found kittens: a gray, ginger, and two black and white. They were toddling around, their little tails straight up the air like pointers. The dogs avidly sniffed them.

I called to my wife, “Where did these kittens come from?”

She didn’t answer. That’s where the dream ended.

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Dream Snippets

So many diverse dream elements last night. Here’s two of five. It’s too exhausting and time-consuming to recount more. These left the greatest impression. First, the game show.

A flood had wrecked a place. I felt it could be salvaged. Seeing how it could be done, I convinced the network to give me a chance to execute.

Things immediately started going wrong but I kept persevering. I ended up with two basketball hoops at one end. Two young women were assisting. I had a nerf basketball. Then I started attempting explaining what was supposed to happen. As that’s going on, it was announced time’s up. You’re going live.

I wasn’t supposed to be on the air, but there I was, throwing the nerf ball and falling miserably to make a basket. I kept throwing the ball to the hoop; it fell well short. I then decided to bank it off the backboard. That fell well short.

“It can’t be done,” I said. “We need a different ball.”

One assistant replied, “We’ve been doing it with this ball.” Another man stepped up, threw the ball and made a basket.

Everyone was laughing at me. Embarrassment and frustration flooded me. The network said, “Hey, people are watching you. They’re enjoying this. You have a hit.”

The next segment took me into the kitchen. My wife and I were cooking. She put a pot on the stove and turned on the fire. The pot immediately boiled over. Calling my wife, I removed the pot from the stove and turned off the flame. The yellow flame didn’t go off, but spread, going over other food and dishes on the counter, horrifying me. Then the flame went out.

My wife came in. I told her what’d happened but she made a comment, took the pot, announced, “That’s done,” and left, telling me to turn something else on.

I reached for the stove. Yellow flames sprang up and spread. I withdrew my hand. The flames went out. Nothing was burning; it was just flames.

Outside now, in a new section, my wife, friends, and others were talking. My wife had won something and had a large clear bag of stuff. “I don’t know what’s in it,” she said. I suggest we open it and separate it.

We found car parts. Toilet cistern repair kits (which looked nothing like it should, but I knew what it was). I was suspicious, thinking that several piles had been mixed together, but didn’t voice that. My wife took what she wanted and tossed the rest.

A friend came by, complaining that another friend had lost some things and telling me where the other friend said he’d left them. As he went off, I called after him, “Was it car parts and toilet parts?”

The other friend kept walking away. The dream ended.

 

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Another Car Dream

Such a pleasant and satisfying dream last night. Nothing special to it.

A friend had built a car. Although it resembled a circa 1969 Porsche 911S, he’d built that body on a new 991 chassis. Its engine was a turbocharged 4.5 liter flat six. Fat tired but inconspicuous, it was a dainty jewel.

I was buying it from him, Gene, for next to nothing. The only thing that bothered me was its color, bright red. For the rest of the dream, it was a silvery slate blue that reflected everything in its high gleam.

Opening the hood, I checked out the engine bay. He’d done professional work, and the car’s finish was like Porsche had built it. I was extremely pleased.

After acquiring it, I picked up two friends. We were meeting two other friends at a restaurant and going to a concert. The car’s power and grace as I drove stunned me. It was so smooth and controlled, far beyond anything that I’d ever driven. The car’s quiet, unencumbered speed impressed my passengers.

Arriving at the restaurant, we met the other two. I checked out their cars. One was driving a current generation Lexus. The other drove an Infiniti. That pleased me. As I told the friends I’d picked up, there was five of us. We wanted to take one car to make it all easier, and couldn’t go in my new Porsche.

The restaurant was an expensive and charming place sitting by itself in a green field with a parking lot. As it’d just opened for dinner, we were the only customers. We sat down and ordered a light dinner. I had some paperwork from the car. Essentially, the builder had typed up an owner’s manual. I read through it as we ate.

Then, time to go, we headed out to the cars. Plans were made; one car was being left at the restaurant.  I was taking my car home, just up the road. We’d take the third car, the Lexus, to the concert.

Newer Porsches were now in the parking lot. None noticed my gem. I was experimenting with the accelerator, checking its responsiveness. The engine barked and snarled like a racing car, instantly answering the call for power with revs as I trundled it past the other parked cars. At one point, I had to stop to permit another to back out, which I did willingly, feeling cheerful and accommodating toward others.

Then we were exiting, turning left, going up a highway on a hill and around a curve. I quickly raced past others. The tach was redlined at 10,200, very high for a street car. The turbo was indicated on the tach as coming on at 8,200, which was also high. I remembered reading that, and also talking to the builder. He’d made it that high because he didn’t want to be dealing with turbo lag. With four and a half liters, it had power to do anything needed without the turbos.

I wanted to open the turbos and feel it. I was being cautious, though, intimidated by the power that I knew it had. I’d driven turbocharged vehicles and knew that the turbo could catch you out. You had to be aware when you used it.

I also knew that I needed to go home because that’s where the others were expecting me. Then I remembered, shit, I’d left my paperwork back at the restaurant.

Executing a u-turn, I returned to the restaurant. The dining room was now filled. Someone was at the table we’d used but I could see the paperwork. I told the hostess the issue and headed across to the table. By the time I arrived, the paperwork was gone. I addressed the people, a young man and woman there, and asked them about the paperwork. They hadn’t seen it.

Turning around, I realized that I was at the wrong table. The right one was behind me. And there was the paperwork. A businessman had just picked it up and told me that he was just moving it, it was there when he’d arrived. At my request, he handed it to me.

The dream ended.

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