Tag: Dream

The Church Tam Dream

* I always thought a tam is a hat. The use in this context is from the dream.

A friend of mine (L) was beside me. He’s exactly how he now is, about twenty-five years older than me, a retired, silver-haired engineer coping with COPD.

We were on a wide, well-paved asphalt street lined with trees. I said, “Where’s Church Street?”

He said, “Here. You’re on it. This is Church Tam.”

“Church Tam?” The term confused me.

L said, “That’s why we were confused. You’re asking how to find the place where you are.”

I was still thinking about that when he moved off with a shoulder shift, nod, and wave that signified good-bye. At that point, I saw a white Church off to one side. It was set well-back on a sloping green lawn. Large and simple, it looked like many of the unassuming, clean-lined churches I’ve seen throughout my lifetime.

I was more interested in another set of buildings that were further back and off to one side. Built of cinnamon-orange bricks and of a straightforward, square design, the two buildings were in tandem, with a smaller one in front of the taller one. Whether I knew it or heard it, I knew that the building in the back hadn’t been opened in many years and that it held secrets and historic information. Wanting to explore it, I followed a sidewalk to the front door.

Large, paneled windows were visible on each. As I walked up to the front door, I saw movement behind the windows. A tall man was looking out at me as he moved toward the front door. Half-turning, he waved to others behind him. Two children trotted after him, followed by a woman.

Opening the door, he stepped out. Tall, slender and white, his hair and beard were a dark gray. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and blue jeans.

The children came up as he said, “Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.” As he finished that, a woman in an apron came out, wiping her hands as she joined the other three.

I didn’t say anything but looked at the group and building. I was wondering how to get into the big building to learn its secrets. The man said, “Come on in. We have room for you and food.”

“Thank you,” I said. He and I shook hands. The children were shy but seemed to know me. The woman smiled and then went into the house.

We followed her in. She was going down a polished, dark wood hall, but the man and I stopped in a large front room sparsely furnished with a fireplace, thick wooden coffee table, and several leather armchairs. He repeated his welcome. I protested that I couldn’t stay with him and that I thought he was mistaken about expecting me because I’d just decided to come here on an impulse. He laughed at that, telling me, “No, we’ve been expecting you.” Telling me that he’d been right back, he went down the hall.

I was left alone. Looking around, I saw pale-green double doors set in a stone wall. Sconces were on either side. Like cathedral doors, they were pointed at the top of the arc where they met. They were painted, but it looked like a century had passed since it was last painted. The doors were hinged, with a large keyhole in the middle.

Giggling, the children shuffled up, but stayed back. They talked in tandem, telling me that people couldn’t go into the other place because it had a lot of secret and important treasures and things in it, and that they’d never been allowed in it.

“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m here. I want to go in.”

“You can’t,” the children said. “Nobody can. Nobody’s allowed to go in there.”

I said, “Someone must go in there. Does anyone have the key?”

“Yes,” one child and then the other said with thoughtful looks. “My Dad,” the boy said. “He has the key.”

“Maybe if I ask him nice, he’ll let me in,” I said.

As I was saying this, the man approached. In one hand was a large ring of keys. On his other palm was a single key. “Here you go,” he said. “I think this is what you’re looking for.”

The dream ended.

***

I had this dream four days ago as part of a dream bomb that lasted several days. Its impact was more sharply felt than the rest.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s theme music entered my stream due to some nocturnal emissions.

Nocturnal emissions, if you don’t know, is also known as phantom writing. It’s the practice of writing in your bed when you’re supposed to be sleeping.

I’d been sleeping when both calf muscles seized, throwing me awake. After my wife and I rubbed the spasm with some toe-flexing help, I went through the dream I’d been in and then my thoughts drifted into the novel in progress. Turning to what’s happening in the novel, I thought, “What are these deeds? Who is doing them?”

That created an easy transition to “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC (1976). With that rocking my head, sleep easily pulled me in.

Sing along if it moves you. The words are easy to learn.

 

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The Nap Dream

I was reading a book when sleep ambushed me. I dreamed then that I was in a car, looking up at its pewter grey ceiling. Tucked and curved, the ceiling was made of the material sometimes called mouse fur.

The dome light hove into view. As I watched, the dome light changed into an eye. It blinked once. The iris was blue but changed into grey. The pupil enlarged. A second later, I floated up into the pupil. I awoke as I passed into its darkness.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

This song, “Still the Same” by Bob Seger (1978) has been on a continuous stream since last night, looping through my conscious mind yesterday evening, through some of my dreams, and on through today.

The dream part was weird and laughable. I’m with others. Confusion is like a drug in my blood. We’re on some mission to get out of a jungle-like setting but I don’t know where we’re going. Sweat, grease, and stinging insects plague me. It seems like we’re on the verge of escaping the jungle. I’m dubious because I believed that before. Others are more optimistic but it seems like they’re pretending.

A quiet dusk is dropping around us. Darkness is seizing the jungle behind us, yet we’re reluctant to move on. I recognize it’s because we’re all tired but we’re not at a good place to stop.

I thought I heard something and then another voiced that same belief. We stop to listen, standing like mannequins. Then I heard, “There you stood, everybody watched you play. I just turned and walked away. I had nothing left to say.” The descending piano followed.

“That’s Bob Seger,” I said. “”Still the Same.” Where’s that coming from?”

No one answered. We instead lapsed into a brief and meandering conversation about what to do.

I didn’t remember the dream when I first awoke. After being up for a little bit, I heard “Still the Same” playing in my mind, and that triggered the dream recall. I was all, WTF?

So I’m posting the song here to purge it from my head. Thanks for taking it on for me. Cheers

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The Road-Show Dream

My wife and I were traveling in a car. I had a sense that we were changing locations, moving to somewhere new, an exciting prospect.

Along the way, we stopped in a town. It was pre-arranged for us to meet with a local musical band. My wife and I were to sing with them that evening. We sat with the musicians and coordinated the set list and discussed when we would arrive and what else was required for our performance. Part of the latter entailed doing more work, including find the song lyrics to several songs.

After that, we had time to kill, so we first went around the town a bit, just being tourists, and then got something to eat. Our big black and white cat, Tucker, was traveling with us, except that he was a furry, fist-sized black and white spider in the dream. He was in a cage but got out. The car door was open. I saw him leaving the car, but I wasn’t positive. Either way, I searched for him, but didn’t find him, and ran out of time.

Our appointment for meeting the group to prepare to perform had arrived. We met with the group at the convention center where we were to perform. Meeting with the band, I stepped back and let others lead. After a few minutes, it seemed to me that they were off track. Everything that’d been discussed was changed. I reminded them of our earlier conversation but they were confused, and seemed unable to remember anything that I said.

That’s where the dream ended.

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The View Dream

For this dream’s beginning, I was with a large gathering for a dinner in a big banquet room. The dinner wasn’t formal although the round tables were all covered with white table cloths, china, crystal glasses, and silverware. Everyone was dressed informally in jeans or slacks. I knew many people there as friends. I wasn’t staying, though.

Just before leaving, I happened to look out a window. We were in either a high-building or a place on a high hill. I don’t know which. I chanced to go by a window. The window provided a gorgeous panoramic view of a bay with bridges. Calm indigo waters filled the bay under a perfect azure sky.

I raised the blinds to more fully see the scene, and then called to some of my friends, telling them to come see the view. Several came. We looked out on the sun-blessed world and remarked on the tranquil, peaceful curative that the scene provided.

I left.

I headed out across some fills and found myself traveling in parallel to a column of brawny men. Their garb suggested something out of an age one thousand years before. From what I gathered, they were planning some picnic or festival. Sometimes they chanted.

Encountering a man walking the other way, he asked me about where we were going, and why I wasn’t dressed like the rest. I told him with a smile that I was part of that group and that I didn’t know who they were or where they were going. I smiled as I said this, and then waved at the men, who seemed to have been following my conversation with the stranger. As I finished speaking, I said, “This is my turn,” and turned onto a path that ran perpendicular to their travels.

I followed the run through a field of short, tarnished gold grasses and came to an asphalt street. It was far from the intersection where you’re supposed to cross. A few others were talking about crossing the road but were unsure how to go about it. They began resigning themselves to going to the intersection so they could safely and legally cross.

I, though, decided that I’d chance it there. No vehicles were coming and the visibility was good, so why not? After crossing and reaching the other shoulder, I noticed that others had crossed with me. Then I saw a pair of police officers walking down the shoulder toward me. I suspected that they were going to ticket me or make a big deal about what I’d done but I decided that I didn’t care. I knew where I was going and didn’t want to be delayed.

Finding another sketchy path, I continued on my through another field of tarnished golden grasses.

The dream ended.

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A Topsy-Turvy Dream

Last night’s dream dragged me through a gamut of feelings — uplifting, frustrating, enervating, and energizing. It was just like writing a novel.

Here’s a little set-up. This dream was apparently a sequel, or part of a series. In a previous dream, I’d driven an exotic high-performance sports car. I had a great time with it, but while cutting through traffic, I lightly clipped another car. I need it in the dream, but I was having too much fun to care. I thought, who cares? It’s a dream. Enjoy it.

My dream last night began with me with my wife in our home. I received a document in the mail. Opening it, I found a letter from my previous employer, IBM. It was signed by like sixteen people, including a senior VP. The letter had a photograph of me in the car in the previous dream. A video played when I pressed on it, showing the moment when I clipped the other car and drove away. It had a clear image of my dismissive grin. The letter said, “Is this you? Please call.” A phone number was provided.

Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit. My wife was going to be pissed. I figured that I’d damaged something that belonged to IBM, they found out, and know they wanted me to pay. It’d probably be a substantial amount, and that’s what I thought would piss my wife off.

So I didn’t want her to know. Concealing the letter from her, I called the number. A cold female voice on the other end confirmed who I was, that it was me in the photo (or video), and told me the senior VP wanted to talk to me. An appointment was set.

I went in like I was being sentenced to death. IBM HQ was huge and busy. I stumbled around, lost, until I managed to get to where I needed to be. After I identified myself, the woman behind the desk left and came back with a man. Here it comes, I thought.

He confirmed who I was and that it was me in the vehicle, and then said, “We want to give you a job. The elan you demonstrated in this vehicle was just what we’re looking for. My boss will be out to talk to you about your pay, benefits, and the project, and then we’ll see if we can make a deal.”

Hot damn, I was so surprised and excited. I couldn’t believe it. What good luck. I was looking forward to telling my wife.

But a few minutes later, the woman came out and said, “Sorry, there’s been a change of plans. We’ve decided we don’t want to hire you. Have a nice day.”

Talk about flipping me over. I tried to talk her into another chance but she dismissed me and walked off.

Hurt, angry, and bitter, I left. Instead of walking, I took a train to my car. The train was packed, and I seemed to be in everyone’s way, which was like an anchor on my soul. Arriving at my stop, I left the train and trudged up the steps from the platform into the parking building. Thick burgundy carpeting covered the steps. I was the only one going up them. As I reached the top steps, I discovered a heavy burgundy overcoat. It was obviously expensive. Picking it up, I thought, I need to turn this in or find its owner.

I stepped into the upper level. Burgundy carpeting covered the wide, broad room. A group of men hustled toward me. They were talking about a basketball game. One of them, a short, bald man, seemed to be senior, as they obviously deferred to him. All were carrying briefcases, but he was dressed in a three-piece burgundy suit.

Stopping him, I said, “Excuse me, is this your coat?”

Surprised, he said, “Yes, it is. Where’d you get it? I’ve been looking for it.”

“I found it on the stairs,” I said.

“My goodness, well, thank you for finding it for me. I really appreciate it.”

He reminded me of the proctologist in the Seinfeld Ass Man episode, officially called “Fusilli Jerry”. “You’re welcome,” I said.

He then went to put the coat on, but his hands were full with bags. I said, “Here, let me help you.”

As I helped put him put his coat on, he laughed and said, “Well, thank you. You’re a fine young man.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. He and I turned to go in our separate directions. As we did, one of the other men called to him. Hearing the name, I realized that it was the senior VP that I was supposed to meet, who never met me.

Turning around, I watched him walk away, and felt better, because I thought we were going to meet again.

The dream ended.

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