Tag: Dream

Future Projection

Rising to pee at six AM and see which feline is scratching at what door to go in which direction, I sail my thinking through the dreams still cascading through my consciousness.

Then I set them aside. Forget about them. They seemed like much of the same.

But later, reading other blogs, a flash of remembered dream scythes in.

I’ve been in a school. Walking through it. Looking for a shirt. Being watched and judged. 

I know I’m older than them. They’re looking at me for guidance. 

I try to ignore them. I keep going, meandering through the school’s white brick walls, up steps, and down halls, looking for a shirt until I discover that, here, in this classroom, that I just passed, to my left, is the locker holding my shirt. But a class is going on in the classroom. I don’t want to interrupt it.

Then I do interrupt it. I slip in along the wall. I’m immediately noticed. I apologize for my presence and the disturbance and explain that I need a shirt from my locker. It’s well received, politely received.

Then I’m back where I was. I still don’t have a shirt. I did not go into the classroom, I realize, but projected myself into a possible future to see what would happen if I accepted that path. Then I decided not to do that but to continue looking for a shirt elsewhere.

While looking, I come to another crossroads. I’m in the school. People are off to one side, talking. Noticing me, they begin talking about me.

I try to ignore them. I’m focusing on my objective to find the shirt. I have the choice of three directions. Looking into one direction, I project myself into the future. 

I’m surrounded by people. They seem smaller than me but they’re not children. They seem smaller because they’re all looking up at me. I’m speaking. I don’t know what I’m saying. They’re listening, nodding and smiling. 

Returning to the crossroads, I project myself into another future in a different direction. I’m again surrounded by people. Again, they’re looking up at me. I’m telling them my name and spelling it for them. They’re listening, smiling and nodding. Some of them are answering me, “Yes, that’s your name.”

That’s all that’s remembered right here and now. I’m sort of breathless with the idea that I projected myself into a future, even if in a dream, but I remember thinking in the dream, The things we can dream.

 

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Today’s Theme Music

I thought something about dreams would be appropriate for me for theme music today.

There are a lot of offerings available. ‘Dream Weaver’, by Gary Wright, came to mind. How about The Chordettes with ‘Mr Sandman’?  Susan Boyle, ‘I Dreamed a Dream’, would fit. There are so many songs about dreaming and issues with dreams out there, but I decided upon Aerosmith, ‘Dream On’. 

As I write and think about dreams and dream music today, I think, there’s a novel there, about a man who becomes obsessed with understanding his dreams, and dreaming more and more frequently. It’s not the freshest feed for a story but it could be fun to explore.

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Resigned

A dream’s undertow sucked me into its midst, where I was myself, in a younger guise, and dressed in Air Force blue. I, in my dream madness, completed paperwork in a dim crowded bunker of electronic scents. Watchful eyes ensured I filled the proper blocks with typewritten words in coherent order. But – they were dissatisfied.

A junior officer arrived to ‘help’ me redo the paperwork, explaining in cloying officialese that some of these statements weren’t appropriate and do I know that if I but groom myself a little more and co-operate, they’ll reward my potential with advancement.

But the flattery felt oily, and I resisted, asking, “Can’t I just line out the offending lines?” The Colonel came by to help me understand, asking the junior officer if it had been explained. Yes, the junior officer explained, it has been explained and he understands. “But,”I protested, “but, but, but…,” resisting because I was not inclined to re-type and rewrite, because those were not my words.

The Colonel showed me a note from the General,  where the General had sprawled in a fat red marker, ‘Does he understand that they can see this as treason?’ I could hear the General speak them as he wrote them, as I read them.

Yes, I understood, and no, I didn’t care. I didn’t do it as they wanted. I handed my finished work to the befuddled young officer with only a few words lined out. She stammered about that’s not what they wanted, and didn’t I understand what I could be, didn’t I see how I was sabotaging myself?

“Yes,” I said, “I see, and I understand, but do you understand?

“I resigned, so it doesn’t matter.”

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Dream Fragments

Many dreams last night, very chaotic.

I arrived somewhere, a respected, highly regarded. This I knew in the dream, inside me, from experiencing and enjoying success, and from others’ demeanor toward me. People fawned over me as I arrived. I tried to be natural, approachable, accommodating, friendly.

The somewhere was a medium sized retail business. The managers and owner sought my advice on improving sales. I suggest marketing partnerships. They were selling hardware and things to keep homes safe so I suggested a partnership with people to keep other things safe, and offered them advertising ideas like, ‘safe and strong,’ and ‘secure through strength’. Continued on a tour, observing.

Now somewhere else, in a car, driving fast. Terrible, gray visibility, limited in the front and back. The observer’s paradox, I think in the dream. Weaving through traffic in this terrible gray visibility, passing other cars. Discover there are enormous accidents everywhere on this huge concrete Interstate. Vehicles are stopped. There are no dead nor injured, no fires or wreckage, but I know there are accidents. Yet, I hurtle on, guiding my car around the obstacles until getting free, into sunshine.

Back at the medium sales place. There is a huge sale going on. So big, it spilled over into the out doors. They’re doing as I suggested but I sense they did it on their own. Yet, they initiated the idea but didn’t seem to plan. People are holding onto purchases and queuing to buy everywhere. “Why didn’t they add more sales staff?” I wonder. “Why didn’t they plan ahead better?” Then I think, they did, but they were sloppy about it.

 

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Dream Elite

Today’s Dream Begins….

What does snow and darkness in a dream signify? In this dream, there was a steel and glass building that was warm and lit, a haven against the darkness and nasty weather, but otherwise, this dream had no sunshine, no light outside. It was always cold, windy, snowy.

It began with my selection as part of an elite element. We were drivers. I don’t know the dream background but everyone had a role, either as part of management, as someone attending the cars, someone working in the world, or as a driver. I was pulled from the masses to be a driver.

Then, from the driving group, I was selected to drive a unique car, literally the only one we had like it. Turbocharged, it was started differently – you had to select fifth gear to start it – and I drove it on different missions than the ones the other drivers did. This car had more power and capabilities than the rest. I was pleased, flattered and honored, but I didn’t recognize what it did to my relationships. I no longer had to go outside, into the cold darkness where wind blew falling snow, and the accumulation, which never melted, created frigid, difficult decisions. That’s where I’d originated, and it was the place of my friends and co-workers, yet they always had to go back out there and never had time to stay and visit with me.

As for the other drivers, the other ‘elite’, they also had missions, but they did their missions in large groups. I always went out alone so I never really associated with them, either. They knew me, and mildly resented me, because I was elite among the elite.

So I was often alone, in the warm, lit building, surrounded outside by darkness and snow, where people waited, watching others go off on missions in their cars, while I drove my car alone.  Management was always busy, rarely glimpsed, with few interactions. I’d been given my assignment and was expected to do this.

Tiring of this, not liking this situation, I tried breaching the groups, inviting friends to come in from the outside and talk, trying to join them outside, but not fitting in, resented because I didn’t really have a reason to be there, giving my car to another to drive. But he couldn’t drive it, which exasperated me. It’s easy. I shifted to shunning my friends on the outside because they shunned me. I gave management little time because they gave me little time. And I looked for a newer, better car. It was out there, and I knew it. I just had to find it.

So the dream ended, on my determination to find my new, more powerful vehicle, certain it existed and certain I would find it, recognizing as I did, that I couldn’t go back to being one of the others.

I had gone on.

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Going Backwards

I dreamed I was going backwards last night.

It wasn’t a bad feeling, going backwards, although I was in a car, actually occupying the driver seat, and it wasn’t my car, but belonged to my late father-in-law, and it was a Prius, which I think is beyond what he would own. He was a Jeep man, fond of hunting and fishing.

But let’s step back to the dream.

I dream a lot. I don’t know the averages for people. Dreaming is a self-reported matter. According to people who study people, people aren’t reliable about self-reporting matters, and those are the people who would know.

My pa-in-law died in December of 1991, an intelligent, personable man from southern WV. A friend recently died, prompting me to think of friends, pets and relatives who have left one plane for another, but I don’t think that’s what this dream was about.

I was visiting him at his home, which, being a dream, wasn’t the home where he usually lives. I think dream experts tell us that dream houses represent ourselves. So do cars.

Which brings me to the car. Visiting my in-law, Jim, I gathered I was to drive his silver Prius (not the latest generation, but the last generation of car…an interesting side-bar, which could merit more inspection for its meaning in the dream), following a person driving another Prius that belonged to Jim (and, huh, also silver, it WAS the latest model). I thought we were going fishing. Fishing with Jim was a relaxing, meditative pastime, and a favorite. I miss fishing with Jim.

So I’m sitting in the Prius driver seat, waiting for the other fellow, when the car starts rolling backward. Jim and the others notice, frantically motioning for me to stop it. Of course, that’s what I want to do, but I’m unfamiliar with the car and don’t know where the brake is.

Can you believe that?

I think that confusion over something as simple as braking a modern car could be something to ponder.

Meanwhile, the car rolls down the driveway and into the street as I attempt to figure out what to do. Then, it stops.

That was enough for Jim. Like a TV sitcom, the next scene shows me being driven in the other Prius, indignant about being stripped of my right to drive another’s car. And then I arrive at a business and discover that I’m to intern there. Mildly astonished, I’m dressed in the sort of California Silicon Valley business cas that I wore for years so that’s not a problem. I also brought another pair of shoes, so I can take off my Nikes and put on something dressier, which I do. Wow, what strange forethought.

This isn’t a start up but a plush and modern office space. A guy is there, playing with a radio controlled electric car, racing it over the carpet. I watch him for a few moments before deciding I need to pee. Going to the first bathroom, I realize that their symbols for the bathroom’s sex are foreign to me (and they’re symbols, not letters). After looking at one, I go to the other restroom. There, I hear someone urinating. I think it sounds like a man so I begin entering. Two women exiting the restroom jokingly re-direct me. One knows who I am and why I’m there, and tells me she’ll inform HR that I’m there.

An HR woman arrives and tells me to go with her. But I can’t, I want to get my shoes, and also, where are my sunglasses? Ah, my shoes are on my feet and my sunglasses are in my hand.

A dream trend is developing.

I apologize for being there, explaining that I didn’t know that my father-in-law was going to set me up to intern, and get ready to tell my work history – twenty years in the USAF, a few years with different medical device start-ups, and then NetworkICE, ISS and IBM that culminates in another twenty years of work. The HR woman asks if my wife is coming. No, why would my wife be coming? She’s hoping she was because she liked her the last time. What? There’s discussion about my wife and her name and when she was there. That’s when the dream slides out of my awareness.

And now I see it all. The dream is about my confusion. What confusion? I’m not certain. See, the essence of being confused is that you’re unclear ’bout what’s going on.

I bet why I’m confused will come to me later, after I sleep on it.

 

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