Tag: Dream

Sunday’s Theme Music

I inadvertently type this post’s title as ‘Sunday’s Dream Music’. Last night was a dreams-on-parade night, with at least three vividly remembered dream. One most remembered moment had my wife and I leave the military service. We were following a friend. He took off and we got lost. Making a wrong turn, we entered a hot area of sandstone caves.

First, I had written about sandstone caves in my novel earlier in the week, so its dream presence intrigued me. Meanwhile, as my wife and I walked among the sandstone caves, I was saying, “I don’t think this is the right place. We took a wrong turn somewhere.”

Others were with us. They stopped to talk while I scouted ahead. As I did, I saw a huge cougar entering a sandstone cave. Hastening back, I got my wife’s attention and gestured her forward. Whispering, I said, “There’s a cougar up ahead. It went into that cave.” Pointing, I went on, “We’re definitely on the wrong track.” As I did, the cougar walked out of the cave, prowled around for a second, and then turned and continued.

We backtracked to a highway. As soon as we reached the highway, I saw a large shopping center. “I think that’s where we need to go,” I said, and led on. Yes, I found the store where my friend had gone, a Giant Eagle Supermarket. From a cougar to a giant eagle. That cracked me up today as I reflected on the dreams.

Once I’d thought about the dreams for a time and started doing other things, my stream delivered Madonna’s 1987 hit about love, dreaming, and sleeping, “La Isla Bonita”.

So here it is, for your listening pleasure.

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The Micro-Code Dream

This is a recurring dream. I had it twice, maybe three times in the past few weeks. It’s also a sequel to another dream. The first dream was dreamed at least twice. Both dreams evolved in its depths and complexity, or my ability to remember them. As always,  I wonder how much I remember and how much I manage to fill in gaps through my imagination without being aware that I’m doing so.

In both, the backdrop is that I’m with IBM. The first dream has me being given a project. Not uncommon. I have a print out of several pages. Most of the back pages are lines of micro-code. The first page is an explanation that this list of hospitals need to be notified of these micro-code changes by a specific date. It’s a Friday afternoon. The date is the following Monday.  So, YIKES. The next four pages are lists of hospitals where this code needs to be applied, with identifying fields.

The first thing I do is get a yellow highlighter and a list of hospitals that are our customers. Then I go through the list, highlighting the hospitals that are our customers. I also make notes in black pen.

Follow-up is to create the letter to send these customers. I do this on a computer, merging the letter with the data fields from the hospital lists, import the letters into email, and send them out. Done and done. My boss checks on me. I confirm with her that it’s done. She’s surprised that it was done so quickly, and I show her what I did and how. Done and done.

The second dream has me at some team party. I work in a one-deep position, from home, so I know few people, but I’m on this campus with my team, who are usually just voices on the phone or names in emails. I’m wandering the party and encounter some product engineers. They heard that I took care of the hospital micro-code notification. They have questions. Essentially, they want reassured that it went okay.

First, I sit with a senior guy with the micro-code in a room full of computers on desks and in frames, with people working on things all around us. It’s very noisy with the sounds of fans, hard-drives, and conversations. He shows me the micro-code and begins to ask who and what questions.

Excusing myself, I go to my computer bag in the other room and get my working company, along with a print out of the letter that I sent, and another print out that shows who it went to and when. I give these to him and tell them what they are. He’s surprised and asks me why I gave them to him. I tell him, that’s what I would’ve wanted to know if I was following up.

Everything is quickly answered with these papers. Other of his team members come by to ask and see, and he tells them what I gave them, and they’re all relieved that it’s been done. Time to party.

But first, another team comes up to check on the project, too. The first team gives the second team my papers, tells them what I did, and everyone is satisfied.

As this ends, another engineer is talking loudly at a table. She’s talking about a modem’s identification and wondering who was dumb enough to use last names as part of a modem’s identification. As I turn, I hear another person say my full name, because that’s the name used as a modem identification.

I go over and tell them it was me and answer questions. Yes, it was ignorant, but I was ignorant about the process, working alone, and learning on the job. She said she can change it for me. I shrug that off, because we’re not using it anywhere except the lap now. It’s older and we use new stuff for production and operations, but the old stuff is helpful for trouble-shooting customer issues who are using old stuff.

That ends. Everyone is going off to the party in the next room. I begin a drift that way. Others find me and congratulate me for the work on the project. That amuses me because it seems like it was such a quick and easy project.

The main party is in a huge ballroom at the end of a hall. Music is blaring and people are dancing in there. That’s also where the restrooms are. I need to use one but can’t get to them because of the dancing crowd. I make a long detour around the crowd until I find a place where I can cut through, go in, use the bathroom, and come back out.

When I do, I’ve decided to look up some people while I’m there. I find several and huddle with them. Speaking loudly over the music, in a huddle with our arms intertwined over one another’s back, I tell them that I’ll be leaving soon, but I wanted to thank them and tell them how much I enjoyed working with them.

The dream ended.

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The Gold Dream

I was in a house that felt familiar, like something built in the seventies, two stories or more. The bottom story is a garage.

I’m a spectator off to one side, watching this dream. The dream begins with me standing in a room, looking at the clock, and saying, “It’s time to go.” I know that it’s very early, dark, and rainy. The others are up. They’re ready to go, waiting, like me, for the moment. We didn’t want to go too early, but it’s something that we all need to go and do.

Several of the others are my sisters. One is a brother-in-law. Others are not recognized as anyone from my life but I know that they’re more family. There are eight of us.

After I make my announcement, I go downstairs to the garage to wait. Down there, I see water pouring in from the garage’s ceiling. That’s not good, I know, wondering where it’s coming from. It’s an impressive amount. Although not consistent, it seems like the strength and volume available from a garden house.

I’m impatient to leave and call back upstairs to the others to come on. There said they were ready, so why is there now a delay? My brother-in-law comes down first. I point out the water and tell him that we’ll need to check that out later. He agrees, and we speculate about where it could be coming from.

The others come down. The garage door is opened. We go out into the rain. Crossing the dark street, we come to a field. The ground is sodden. I walk forward and find eight markers. They look like brass grave markers with raised letters. They have our names on them.

I find mine. Rain water is collecting on it. The others are talking about what they’re supposed to do. They don’t know.

I think I know what I’m supposed to do. I get down on my hands and knees in the soaked, muddy ground, and put my head on the marker. After I do that, I draw back to confirm that something is going on with the marker and see that a red dotted circle has formed on the marker. It spirals around and around and then goes green.

I tell the others that they need to lay down prone on the ground and put their foreheads on the markers. They don’t want to because of the rain, water, and mud. I tell them, “We can’t go until we’re all in position.” Reluctantly, they get down.

I watch each, confirming that their grave markers show the red dotted circles. I expect them to turn to green. My sister’s circle doesn’t turn. I tell her that she needs to put her head on her marker. She complains but does it. The light goes green. We disappear.

We end up at a complex series of highways, bridges, and tunnels. I’m in Pittsburgh, PA, but it doesn’t look like the Pittsburgh that I know, except we’re at the point, where the Ohio forms from the other two. We’re looking for a VA complex. Nobody knows where it’s at, so we walk around, trying to find it. It’s exasperating.

I talk to the others about the roads, bridges, and tunnels. Suddenly, I’m very knowledgeable. I tell the others about a similar place of roads, bridges, and tunnels, and how they found gold. Since it’s so similar, we can probably find gold here, too, I tell them. That gets them all excited. We begin walking around, looking for gold.

I break away from the group. Turning and looking out, I see a green vale. Gold nuggets dot its sides.

“There,” I say to the others. They come over. I point. “There it is.” I smile at them. “I found the gold.”

 

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A Searching Dream

It’s been several months since I’ve had a military dream. Being retired military, I always think of these dreams as representative of my desires for structure, order, and accountability. The dreams usually lack these things, which might be evidence about my state of thoughts when I’m awake.

This dream found me again as an U.S. Air Force master sergeant returned to active duty. As in my final years, I was working for the commander, a brigadier general. In this case, though, nobody was expecting me. Announcing my arrival, I was given a large packet of mail that’d arrived for me in anticipation of my arrival. Other than that, nobody noticed me at all.

The command section was noisy with overcrowded activities. Threading my way through, I asked others where I was supposed to sit. Nobody could answer. As I kept looking, I came into a small room and up against a wall. (You have to love the mind’s sense of humor, right?)

Throwing the mail down in angry disgust, I complained, loud and long, about not having a place to sit and work. Then I told a senior admin person passing by to tell the commander that I was there, and needed a place to work. After walking off, I meandered a bit because I thought I was due a promotion. Where was my promotion. I saw others being promoted, but not me. That irked me. I was certain I was due a promotion, because that was one reason that I’d returned.

Next, I was off on an assignment that took me off base and into the real world. I was driving a truck and towing a trailer. Two others (strangers who were junior NCOs), were with me. We were seeking supplies.

I came to a crowded and chaotic camp full of Army soldiers. I asked a few where I was to get my supplies. They had no idea. Where could I go to find the information? No idea.

Exasperated, I drove around, up dusty trails and around compounds of tents and marshaling areas until I found where I needed to go. I was expected and the trailer was filled with quick efficiency.

Ready to leave, one of the troops accompanying me began acting strange. He seemed to become fascinated with weapons that others were using. I ordered him once to come with me. Responding in a daze, he said, “In a minute,” and walked away.

This intrigued me. I followed him. He seemed to be wandering. I asked him, “Are you looking for something?”

He nodded.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

I told him, “We don’t have time for this. We need to go.” Yet, I wanted to indulge him in his search because it seemed so important to him.

That’s how the dream ended, with me following him through a dusty area as he searched for something that he didn’t know.

 

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Friday’s Theme Music

Today’s music comes right out of my dream.

To begin in the dream, my older sister and I were in a walk-in closet. No reason ever became clear as to why we were there. She was chattering, as she’ll sometimes do, which irritated me. A song was playing. The song was muffled, as though it was being heard through walls. I knew the song but I couldn’t place it because of her chattering.

Then I was in a car, driving. My car was fourth in line. We were on a street with a double-yellow line. The three cars ahead of me were on the left side — the wrong side — of the road. I didn’t know why. They were going very slowly. The road was in excellent shape but the fact that we were on road’s wrong side annoyed me. No signs were visible to account for that. I wanted to change over to the right side but not knowing why they were on the left side – what did they know? – kept me behind them, following. I was hugely irked.

Music played then, something about going straight. Then the song, “Amber” by 311 played. I thought amber is all about warning, as in amber flashing lights. “Amber” didn’t end, but “Forty Days and Forty Nights” began. That song, covered by Steppenwolf, was what I’d heard in the closet with my sister.

It was still streaming in my head when I awoke, so here it is, today’s theme music, the Muddy Waters classic as Steppenwolf did it in 1970. Enjoy a little bluesy rock.

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The Watery Dream

I’ll not include all the dream’s tedious details, instead focusing on the few scenes, person, and essence that cling to my memory. 

Roger/Ronnie was there. Twins, they were my wife’s cousins. Born in Ohio, they adopted Georgia as their home, shooting as their mantra, and Fox News as their information source. They loved playing at being good ol’ boys.

Since I couldn’t tell them apart, one of them was in the dream. In the dream, there was trench full of muddy, milky water flowing through the middle of the house. We all accepted it as normal that it was there. The house itself was busy with people and activities but nothing that seemed significant. I could be wrong.

I went down to lower level in the house. It stank down there. I traced the smell to another body of water coming in through a trench in a wall. After more investigation, I figured that the upstairs water was emptying in such a way that it was sloshing back up this trench and into the house, where it pooled and stagnated.

Once I understood the cause, I went back upstairs. I knew something needed to be done about it and that I couldn’t do it alone. I needed help.

Here, I pause. I explained and showed people, mostly men, the stagnant water. I think I explained it to my late father-in-law. Mostly, though, I explained it to strangers, and Roger or Ronnie.

With Roger/Ronnie, they came in, took a deep breath and said, “Something stinks.” I told them about the water, and then showed it to them. They said, “You’re right.” I said, “We need to so something about that.” They said, “You’re right,” with a big grin, “but I can’t. I don’t have the time.” Feeling exasperated by that point, I decided that I was the only one that understood and cared, and that I would need to do something about it.

The dream ended.

I feel like my dream is addressing my restlessness and frustration. It’s bothering me multiple levels, and I understand exactly what it is.

 

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The Silent Dream

I dreamed I was walking on a sidewalk by a city street. It seemed familiar. Across the street was a cemetery. Heavy, old trees protect the graves and mossy, tilted head stones. Squirrels, jays, and robins dash around the cemetery lawn. The grass is high and rich with tiny, white flowers. I can see that the wind is blowing.

As I notice the waving grass and tree branches, I realize that I don’t hear anything. That disturbs me. It’s unnerving. I’m walking, and cars are passing, but it’s all a silent movie. I see birds but I don’t hear them. A jet flying overhead leaves chemtrails but not sound.

Turning a corner, I come up on an intersection and watch others walking and talking. They seem to be hearing. Cars and trucks pass without a sound. Red, amber, and blue lights flashing, a firetruck silently passes.

The wind grows stronger, and it’s more difficult to walk or even stand. I can feel the sun’s warmth on me. In fact, I feel too hot, and sweat sheathes my back. Ah, so not all of my senses are affected. I can feel heat and the wind, and I see everything going on.

Turning into the wind, I test my sense of smell. Rich odors of burning marijuana, baked goods, cut grass, exhaust gases, and wet earth reach me. I smile as I smell them. Relief creeps in. I can smell things. I’m only not hearing. Why can’t I hear?

A weird epiphany that the wind of change is blowing strikes me. As I stand and think about that, I suddenly hear everything going on. It was like the world had been muted, and now it was un-muted. Listening, I walk back toward the intersection.

So the dream ends, with me standing at the intersection, listening and watching everything around me, and thinking. When I awaken, I stay in bed, thinking and listening, going through a memory of the dream.

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A Dad Dream

I dreamed my Dad and I were in a store, but a few caveats are needed to qualify this. Much younger, I was taller than I’ve ever been. Dad wasn’t my true father but a colonel I’d worked for in the Air Force. This colonel and I didn’t get along well. Fortunately, he wasn’t in my chain of command. He was the Deputy Base Commander, though, so I had encounters with him almost every day. Another colonel that I was buddies with told me that the other colonel had changed through the years. He said, “He used to seem so happy and had so much fun. Now he barely wants to smile.”

That was my Dad in this dream, not at all like my real Dad. Dream Dad was retired, and I was still active, and outranked him. Neither of us were in uniforms, though. These were matters that I knew.

We were at a Home Depot shopping for plants. Dad wanted to plant flowers at his house. I was there, assisting, following him around. Dad had become forgetful and clutzy. He kept knocking things over. I was concerned, amused, and exasperated as I followed him around and watched the Home Depot personnel cleaning up after his messes.

Dad and I were chatting through all of this, mostly about what he was doing, from what I remember. I began suggesting that we leave but Dad wasn’t ready. It went like this, me following him around as he carried a basket, looking for plants and knocking things over, until I quit following him and drifted away. After I did that, I heard a loud crash. Knowing that he was behind it, I trotted into another area.

A clerk stopped me. “Some hazardous stuff has been spilled,” he said. “We need to clean it up before anyone can go in.”

I looked into the room and saw my dream father standing to one side not far away. Clerks and customers were standing around the perimeter, arms folded, leaning against shelves, as two others cleaned up a mess in the middle.

“Just tell me this,” I said to the clerk. I pointed at Dad. “Did he cause this?” As the clerk nodded, I smiled and said, “That’s what I thought.”

The dream ended.

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The Letters Dream

I laughed in the dream at this dream because I felt an immediate understanding and it was funny to me.

The setting was very vague. Others were there and I engaged with them, but all of them were outside of the dream cam’s view. Sometimes I was outside on a green hill; other times, I was indoors. The indoors settings varied from being a restaurant, coffee shop, and office.

I was doing two primary things in the dream. One, words would come up, and I was putting them into order. I thought at first that they should be alphabetized, but then I thought that they should be ordered by association. In parallel to this, I was playing a computer game called “Word Whomp”. Seven letters are provided and you make words out of them while the clock is ticking. So I was making words on the computer game and ordering words off to the other side. Then I began taking the words that I was supposed to be ordering and started putting them into the game. The words were accepted, even though they weren’t made of the letters provided. Throughout this, I was talking with people off-stage.

It was at this point in the dream that I paused to wonder about what was going on. My first thought was, why am I organizing words like this? Hasn’t this already been done in items like dictionaries? Then I pondered why the game was letting me put in words that didn’t have the letters.

That’s when I laughed in the dream. I thought it was about the writing process and angst. And though I laughed and knew I was playing the game right and doing things the way they’re not supposed to be done, I kept going and had myself a fun time.

Three words remained in my memory from the dream: lacing, facing, and gracing.

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