Tag: Dreams

Thursday’s Theme Music

Greetings from Ashland, ladies and gentlemen, floofs, and the rest. The day is Thursday and the date is April 8, 2021. Our sun broke sky at 6:42 AM. The sun will exit sky west at 7:44 PM. That’ll give us a pretty solid thirteen hours of sunshine, brothers and sisters! Current temp has us at 42. A high in the upper sixties to low seventies is looked for but not counted upon.

I awoke with “I Can Dream, Can’t I?” by the Andrews Sisters (1949) roaming the streets of my mind. Yes, dream magic invoked that song, for sure. Thinking of it (1949, when I was born in 1956?), I wondered how I’d come to know it. I suspect Mom’s influence with her stereo. That’s the easy response but I recall seeing them sing it in black and white, so I pivot to seeing them on a television show or a movie.

Can’t I adore you?
Although we are oceans apart
I can’t make you open your heart
But I can dream, can’t I?

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

It was later covered by others, like The Carpenters, and Annie Lennox, but I enjoy the sisters’ powerful vocals and harmonizing.

Another song, “Hanky Panky” by Tommy James and the Shondells (1966) quickly overtook the Andrew Sisters offering. I can’t trace its lineage in my mind today. As far as learning the song, that would probably be my older sister’s influence. She was one of those forty-fivers, spinning little vinyl discs on her portable record player. Or I learned it via AM radio in the car, or on television from shows like “American Bandstand”. Do not know.

Anyway, that’s today’s music choice. Here’s an interesting video of it. Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Time for coffee. Cheers

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A Crush of Dreams

What a crush of dreams the night held. First came stupidity.

I was in a broad, lightly-used parking light. A woman with two girls (daughters, I assumed), were on blankets and towels on the parking lot, sunning themselves. All were fair skinned. The youngest was to her mother’s right, with her arms thrust out to either side.

Along comes a red car. It backs up and turns. Although there are scant other cars on this lot, they do this right in front of the threesome. As I do, I realize that they’re going to run over the young girl’s arm.

It’s a little red SUV. I run toward the SUV as it backs, shouting at them to stop. The woman and her daughters look over at me. The SUV’s windows are down. Its occupants all turn and look at me but the driver keeps back, going right over the girl’s arm, rear wheels, front. The girls screams. The SUV keeps going, then turns and pulls forward, away from the girl and me. They’re still oblivious about what has happened. The mother is attending the daughter. I run to the SUV, shouting at them, “What’s wrong with you? You ran over that girl’s arm.” The driver, a middle-aged white woman seems confused.

Without further resolution, I’m in a parking lot. A young woman in bright green shorts is laying on the asphalt. A car comes up and runs over her legs.

I watch with shock. Then, I think, again?

Dream shift. I’m in bed, naked and aroused. A petite brunette woman comes in a blue shirt and jeans. We seem to know each other. We start joking and goofing around, then she begins making up the bed with me in it. I fondle her breasts and ask if she wants to scream. Laughing, she replies, “Oh, why not?” She jumps into bed with me.

Now I’m at home. It’s a weird, disjointed place. I don’t recognize it and I’m struggling to recognize changes. Other people are there, my wife’s friends, apparently. I ignore them as I walk around, looking for my wife, trying to understand the changes that have been put in place. I’ve been working all night; now I want to rest. But she’s decided to have a party. This infuriates me; didn’t she realize that I need my rest and the party noise will keep me awake? Glaring at her, I find a bench to sleep on, pulling covers up over my head.

Unable to sleep, I keep changing locations but the noises keep me up. I went to find my wife to register my complaints but she blew me off.

Next, we’re out somewhere with other couples. A guy asks her to dance. I’m pissed at her because she decided to sit at the other end of the table. I thought, WTF? After dancing with the guy, she gestures at me from across the room, ‘want to dance?’. I ignore her. She goes off to dance with the other guy again. Disgusted, angry, I leave the area and find myself in a cold, dark, wet place.

That’s where it ended.

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The Jeopardy Dream

It started with Jeopardy. Alex Trebek was there. I was a contestant. The categories were all about me, like childhood injuries, places I’d lived, the names of former teachers and bosses, cars I’d owned. No other contestants were on the stage. I instead played against the people at home. Anyone could immediately buzz in, get recognized, and give the answer. They had to beat my buzzer, though.

I knew the answers. Easily winning, I was having a fun time. Then, reality: some part of me wondered, “Isn’t Alex Trebek dead? Why is he in my dream?” That blew it apart.

I went on to another dream. Back in the military, we were relocating from one place to another. The new place was in the middle of a building. It had desks and consoles but no walls. Everyone kept saying, “This isn’t secure.” I kept replying, “We have no choice. We didn’t make this decision. It was thrust on us.”

The move went along in starts and stumbles, with me and other command post personnel physically relocating things. At one point, someone ran in to inform us that a security incident was taking place. The security police were trying to reach us but no one was responding.

I dashed over to the new command post location. The security police hotline was ringing. I shouted out, “Who is on duty,” while hurrying to the phone. Miguel appeared, rushing to the phone and calling, “Oh, shit, I am.”

After he answered the phone, the dream moved to another phase. Not only had my work location changed, but so had my clothing and transportation. Myron was there to show me how to ride a bike. “It’s different, but you’ll catch on, don’t worry.” I wasn’t worried. Lots was happening, though, as I had to collect my clothes, find my place, take a shower, and then dress, and then ride away. The process of doing this was unwieldy and riddled with interruptions. I kept my focus, though I often had to stop to deal with something else.

Taking a shower had its own problems as the shower door wouldn’t stay closed, leaving me exposed to others’ prying eyes. After a bit of that, I shrugged it off: let them look. I’d picked out a light, short-sleeved blue-green shirt to wear. After I showered I found I had a shirt on, a polo style, light green. After a moment of thinking, I said, “Wait a minute, this isn’t what I selected.” I stumbled around, looking for the right shirt among my belongings. Finding it after a short search, I changed shirts.

The dream ended.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Good coffee! Today is Coffeeday, March 27, 2021.

Sorry, coffee on the head. Haven’t had my AM brew. Should go brew it up. Smell does wonder for focus. The contents do more for energy. And the taste…ah, sublime. Dark, no sugar, no milk, thanks.

Today is really Saturday. Sun climb was 7:02 AM while sun fall will be at 7:31 PM in Ashland. Temperature, currently hovering at 47ish, is expected to reach 72ish. I see yard and garden work coming in the afternoon hours.

Theme music today is — yes — dream-related. I was playing Jeopardy in the dream, so the song is the Greg Kinn 1983 hit, “Jeopardy”, with its 80s techno-disco vibe. I thought that it fun could be injected into the proceedings by including the 1984 Weird Al Yankovic parody, “I Lost on Jeopardy”, with Art Fleming. It’s a Saturday twofer. You’re welcome.

Wear your mask, get the vax, test negative, and stay positive. It’s coffee time. See ya.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Thursday salutations. This is March 25, 2021. Welcome to Hard Coffee.

Sorry, have coffee on my mind. Haven’t had it yet today, and the beans are whispering my name in the other room. What is Hard Coffee? I imagine it as a movie in which people must survive without coffee for several hours. Initially hostile or indifferent to one another, they learn that they can get to coffee in a building on the next block, if they work together. A tough ex-Marine who fought at Fallujah, a female with an artificial leg, becomes the de facto leader.

Sol’s first appearance on this cloudy, still, rainy day was at 7:06 AM. The thermometer claims it’s 40 degrees F. outside. Sol will fade out over the horizon at 7:29 PM.

Music choice is driven by a dream in which I was driving a car. “Get Outta My Dreams, Get into My Car” is a 1988 song by Billy Ocean. No one was in my car in my dream but me; the later lyrics, “I’ll do the driving, I’ll take the wheel,” is what spirited the song into the thinking stream. Yeah, it was a silly chuckle morning. I hadn’t had any coffee yet. Still haven’t actually. Must soon rectify that. You wouldn’t believe how hard typing is. I keep back spacing to correct words. Woof.

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Cheers

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Monday’s Theme Music

Guten Morgen. Welcome to another edition of another day in another month in another year, aka, March 22, 2021. Bruising clouds and wet surfaces attest to a rainy persona this morn, even though the planet rotated around per usual and presented our star at 7:11 AM. The rotation should hide the sun at 7:25 PM in these parts for twelve plus solid hours of daylight

Dreams are affecting my song choices again today. After contemplating dreams and muddling through some confusion, the 1982 song by The Police, “Spirits in the Material World”. The song just seemed to fit the general mood, the sense that I’m dealing with multitudes of spirits in one world before returning to the material world (here).

I don’t know. Give me some coffee and let me think about it. Think positive, test negative, wear a mask, and get the vax. Have some fun, too. Cheers

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A Dream of Smells

This dream happened just before I woke up. It was a very simple dream. Naked, I was in the bathroom using a blue washcloth to wash my body. As I ran the wet cloth over my face, a sweet smell rose. Stopping, I identified, watermelon. Where did that smell come from? I wasn’t using soap. My washcloth had no scent. Resuming, I washed my arms and chest. Then I smelled, cantaloupe. So fresh and sweet, it was a wonderful smell. After checking the washcloth, I sniffed my arms and hands. Yes, they smelled like cantaloupe. But where did the smell come from?

Continuing with my torso, the smell changed to blackberries. By now, laughing and mystified, I kept washing, but looking around. No others were in the bathroom; the house was silent. Washing my legs and feet, an apple smell rose.

Stopping, I smelled my arms. They still smelled like cantaloupe. When I moved my arms away, I could smell apples. Watermelon, cantaloupe, blackberries, applies: all fruits. What did it mean? I chuckled about smelling fruity.

At that point, I woke up to birds singing outside the window, but smelled…nothing… The dream’s vivid scents remained in my mind so I sniffed my arm.

Yeah; nothing.

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Back with Jeff Dream

Jeff and I were together. We ran together back on Okinawa. Had a good time. Haven’t seen him since then, so that’s thirty-seven years ago.

In this dream, Jeff and I were civilians but tasked with working on what seemed to be military plans. We were each given fat folders of information. A global map dominated a wall. A few older men sat along the edges of the room. I was ready to get to work, eager for the task, but others reminded us that it’s classified and we need to be aware of our environment. Yes, the room was open on one end and other people, who might not have the clearance, were walking and milling. Most were female.

We were told there were a few training meetings about protecting information and ethics that we needed to immediately attend. Carrying our enormous folders, we headed for the meeting rooms with others. Getting there required climbing a wall. That seemed to be optional but I decided I was going to do it. A woman noticed me going up and asked, “Who’s that going up? Why, that’s Michael. Good for you. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Shaped like the letter U, covered in red, yellow, or green rubber, the holds were loose. Many fell out when you grabbed them. I had one arm pinning my folder to my body. With the other arm and hand, I pulled myself, support myself and then find holds for my feet. When I reached the top, I threw the folder up, then used both arms to leverage myself up the final few four to five feet. The top was flat. Getting down required me to jump down three large steps. Picking up my folder, I descended and hurried on.

The rooms were already almost full. I wasn’t certain which one to go to. A woman told me where to go. I saw Jeff by the front so I went to that room. Only two seats remained at the front. I took one of them by the podium. Jeff then gave a short talk. When it finished, we were given a beer break. I went over with others and asked someone at the front of the line to bring me a beer. They did that. I drank some of it before I was told it was time to go to the next meeting. Still carrying my folder, I headed for the assigned room. When I reached it, I was told, no, go work on your new assignment. Another man then showed me where to go. I entered a room where Jeff was waiting. We sat down and began to work.

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Another Dream

I didn’t know what to call this dream. It popped about. The dream starts with my wife joining me in bed. Naked and in our twenties, we play grab-ass, laughing as we do. For some reason, it’s sunny.

Then… We’re at a play with audience participation. Don’t know what the play is about. I’m up by the stage. The audience, including me, are laying down. The light is low, with focus on the stage via yellow spotlights. During intermission, it’s announced that prizes are available. The prizes are up by me. I begin exploring them. One is of a pair of model racing cars: a Chaparral 2E and a Mclaren M8F. The Chaparral always raced as a white car while the McLarens were orange. In this model, though, the Chaparral body parts are painted orange.

Not all pieces are painted, I observe. The cars are models to be constructed, and small, maybe 1/86 scale, yet, there’s amazing detail. Some pieces are in chrome, and others are in brass. There are fittings for water and oil lines, suspension pieces, engine covers and headers, brakes, modular wheels… It’s mind-blowing the amount of details in these tiny models given away. The announcer is saying that these are for children but I say, “These aren’t for children. I’d never give these to children. The pieces are too small.” I look at the box, confirming that it states for children five and up. That has me shaking my head. It’d be a challenge for me to assemble.

We leave the theater, and are out on a sunny plaza. Many people are returning to work but I don’t need to. Because I was laying down at the theater, I have a pale yellow sheet around my waist. A red-headed young white woman is flirting with me. She’s talking about some safety procedures that I previously established for work, and how they’re still in use. They call them “the Seidels,” she informs me, which she implies is funny, but also implies that I should be honored because they’re still using the documents I create and call them by my last name.

She invites me to sit at a table with her. Drinks are ordered. Making chuckling noises, she’s reaching under the table. As the chuckling stops and the smile leaves her face, she finally looks under the table. I look, too. Her hand is up under my sheet. She asks with some indignation what I’m wearing. I realize that she was trying to get into my pants. I laugh. She huffs away.

There it is, all that I remember, although there’s a sneaking sense that I have some gaps.

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The Measurements Dream

It was a weird shopping dream. A bunch of other things had happened where I was going around shopping but then I came to this point. I was helping people shop. Roped into it because I was there and knew what was going on, I was friendly and upbeat about helping others, eager to do it because they were grateful for the assistance. But then I encountered a trio. It seemed like a husband, wife, and older child from what I saw, but that’s a guess. White, all were overweight. I was helping them get three ounces of the product that they wanted. Measuring it out, I handed the white bag to them. “What’s this?” the man asked. “We wanted three ounces,” the woman said while the child hovered sullenly behind them.

I was confused because this was three ounces. I showed them the scale and measurement with the stuff on it. “That’s three ounces. That’s what you asked for.”

The woman smirked. “We want three ounces.”

Her smirk irritated me. “This is three ounces. Look.” I pointed at the scale. The line for help was piling up. “That says three ounces.”

The man and woman peered at it. “Where?” he asked.

I pointed again, moving my finger to emphasize where it said three ounces. “There. That says three ounces. You said you wanted three ounces. This is three ounces.”

The woman smirked. “We. Want. THREE. Ounces.”

WTF? Seriously. Looking back on the dream, it went on with more of the same. My frustration kept rising. With crowd noise growing from impatient people waiting behhind them, I was finally rid of the people only for them to return a few minutes later. Flummoxing me more, they insisted they hadn’t been there yet. “We want three ounces,” the man said. The short woman was holding the white bag I’d given them before. Their listless boy hovered beside her.

I asked, “Do you want three more ounces?” They gazed at me like stupefied cows, so I said, “Because I already gave you three ounces.” I pointed at the white bag in the woman’s hand. She looked at it like she’d never seen it before. “Isn’t that what’s in that bag?”

She said, “We want three ounces.”

I gave up. Just walked away. People called after me but I kept going with the thought, there’s somewhere else that I need to be.

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