Tag: Dreams

Thursday’s Theme Music

Sunrise came at 7:30 AM today. It’s 36 degrees F outside with hopes a high of 44 is realized. Not bad. Sunset will take place at 5:10 PM.

Today’s song choice came by way of Facebook and dreams. I saw something about the performers, the Bellamy Brothers, on FB several days ago. Living in southern WV for a time, where country music dominated, I was familiar with them. But then they had a crossover hit, “Let Your Love Flow”, in 1976. Wikipedia tells me that Larry E. Williams, a roadie, wrote the song.

It’s that song in my head this morning. I thought its presence was caused by my dreams. Partially was, as I wondered about my dreams and asked, “Is there a reason?”

There’s a reason for the sunshine sky
There’s a reason why I’m feeling so high
Must be the season when that love light shines all around us

h/t to Metrolyrics.com

Stay positive, test negative, wear a mask and vaccinate. Here’s the music.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Our winter snow has passed, leaving us with one inch on my yard, walk, drive, etc. Mostly blue, a gray haze veils the blue. Sunshine washes the snow, drawing up a picturesque scene, and flurries still fall. The snowplow is scrapping the road, dropping red cinders in its path.

Sunrise was at 7:29 AM on this Wednesday morning and sunset will be at 5:19 PM. It’s 34 degrees F outside, and we’re not expecting to advance much higher on the thermometer. It’s January 27, 2021.

Our state and county continue heralding a trend of lower coronavirus positive case numbers. The first wave of county vaccinations are completed; more are being planned. Mine is somewhere in the future.

Although “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd kept playing during one dream, after thinking about the dreams, “My Own Worst Enemy” by Lit (1999) entered the scene during the morning’s reflections. After the plethora of bizarre dreams featuring deceased family members, cigars, pies, and jigsaw puzzles, I started remarking to myself and the world (strictly rhetorically, right?), please tell me why I’m having these strange dreams.

“Please tell me why,” is featured as a refrain in “My Own Worst Enemy”, so my mind, acting like some mis-programmed Alexa, began playing the Lit song.

So here we are. Enjoy the video; I’d never seen it before. The bowling alley setting intrigued me. Be safe, test positive, stay negative, wear a mask, and vaccinate. Cheers

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The Four Pies Dream

I dreamed I was to deliver four pies to people living in the woods. A young person was assisting me. I don’t know what flavors the pies were, but part of it was that I heat the pies and cut each into six equal slices, and then deliver them. The entire time that this is going on, “Blinding Lights” by the Weeknd is playing. I don’t know the source of that.

Being a dream where things don’t always make sense, the pies were in a car, a light blue little machine of unknown name. Also in a car was a young white child. The child was a threat, others told me; don’t let him bite you, and don’t let him out of the car.

But I also heat the pies in the car, and could see them through two large side glass windows. I’d already cut them before heating them. Now they were ready.

My young assistant and I slide the windows down preparatory to opening the doors to get the pies. Here comes the kid! Oh, no! I was talking to him in a soothing voice, asking him if he’d like a piece of pie. He rushed forward. “He’s going to bite us,” my young assistant yelled. “Put the windows up,” I shouted. We slid them up.

Round two. “This is ridiculous,” I said, laughing. “Let’s try again.” We reheated the pies. How? I don’t know. It’s something I said in the dream, then waited for seconds, if that, and they were done. We slid down the windows. I talked to the child as I did. The child stayed back. We opened the doors and started taking out the pies. The child rushed us. We returned the pies, closed the doors, and shut the windows before he could reach us.

Others were concerned; that’d been close. He almost reached us. “Third times a charm,” I announced. “Let’s try again.” All progressed as before. We were able to get the pies out. I gave the child in the car a piece of pie. I think that was southern pecan. He sat down and started eating.

Success achieved.

Bonus dream: I was with my youngest sister, L. We were in her car, a blue Mustang convertible. The car was about ten years old. She was driving and I was a passenger. We’d stopped for her to talk with a friend. In the course of that, I got out to stretch my legs and was standing a few feet behind the car. The passenger door was open. My sister announced to the other that she was going to back the car up. I called out to her, warning her that her door was open, that she was going to remove the door.

She ignored me or didn’t hear…whatever, she backed the car up. The open door hit a brick wall and was torn away. Reacting with horrified dismay, she stopped the car. As I told her that I’d been telling her about the open door, we hurried to assess the damage. I expected the door to be gone but instead, the top layer of paint had been peeled off like it was molded part that fit over it, leaving the door intact — and still attached to the car — but a flat black color.

As I tried to understand how that had transpired while sympathizing with my sister, she mentioned that it bugged her because she was going to get a new car, and now her trade-in value would be lower. The whole thing left me subdued, wondering what’d happening, how it happening, and at her muted reaction.

The dream ended.

I could go on with the other dreams — oh, what a night — but those two were the prominent ones.

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A Freaky Dream

This was a freaky dream, and a dark place — no sky, little light, quite dim. No wind; no sound; just me and an unseen other, who seemed above and behind me.

People were returning. I could see the inside of their heads, but it wasn’t anything graphic. Their heads were empty. What I saw was a stylized version of their skull, minus blood, nerves, brains, muscles, etc.

What I did see in their skulls was an outline. The outline was variously labeled or called, the part of their soul that they wanted to contribute, and the part of them that was searching for forgiveness.

Waves of heads following heads, eyeless, faceless, without bodies but with identities, passed me. At first, briefly, it was all very WTF for me as I looked at people — well, their heads, without their bodies, and without faces — and identified them. They weren’t people I knew, but I immediately and effortlessly identified them. An unseen mentor present helped me put it together as I, smiling and whole (the only one like that in the entire dream) said, “Oh, I see. They’re coming with offerings.” Then I had the hang of it. Identifying those outlined sections, I would estimate and declare, “She’s sharing nine percent of her soul for the effort. He’s giving five percent. This one wants to give it all — is that acceptable?” She was sent elsewhere. Apparently part of a greater effort, I was identifying them so others could collect their soul offerings.

Throwing me off at one point was that some seemed slightly different. After some mental sorting, I discovered, “Oh, she’s not offering any of her soul. She’s asking for forgiveness. But she only wants to be forty-five percent forgiven for what she’s done.” They were rarer. As these were encountered, there was sometimes communications with those people. Some of them apparently had lost their souls. They were directed to somewhere else, by the unseen other; that was not my business.

Despite the dream’s darkness and what seems like a weird subject, I stayed upbeat throughout the dream. I shiver a bit, remembering it, though.

But this dream is why the song, “Psychobabble” by The Alan Parsons Project, ruled my mind this morning.

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Tuesday’s Theme Song

Sunshine and wind is ruling this Ashland, Oregon, Tuesday morning. The sun rose at 7:39 AM, pushing the air temp up from last night’s low of 29 F to the current 43 F. We’re hoping to hit the mid-fifties before the sun shuts down the day’s operations at 5:10 PM.

“Psychobabble”, a 1982 Alan Parsons Project song, rules the mental musical stream this morning. “Because of dreams?” you ask. Why, yes.

Tell you ’bout a dream that I have every night
Tell you ’bout a Dream that I have every night
It ain’t kodachrome and it isn’t black and white
Take me for a fool if you feel that’s right
Well I’m Never on my own but there’s nobody in sight

I don’t know if I’m scared of the Lightning
Trying to reach me
I can’t turn to the left or the right
I’m too scared to run and I’m too weak to fight
But I don’t Care it’s all psychobabble rap to me

Tell you ’bout a dream that I have every night
It’s in dolby stereo but I never hear it right
Take me for a fool well that’s alright
Well I see the way to go But there isn’t any light

h/t to Songmeanings.com

With COVID-19 pushing out variants with higher transmission rates, hospitals staggering under their loads, and the global death count over two million and still going (400,000 in the U.S. as of this morning), I’d be remiss to not remind you to stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Get a vaccine when it comes your way, too.

Enjoy the music.

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Sitcom Dreams

On Wednesday, I mentioned a couple of my recent dreams to my wife. She shook her head; “You’re on another plan with those dreams. I have no idea what’s going on.”

Yeah, I often have that feeling about my dreams, but many of them reassure and inspire me. Not so the dreams of Wednesday and Thursday nights. Of the silly variety, I call them my sitcom dreams. Along with what I call my ‘episodic adventure dreams’, the sitcom dreams happen regularly. There’s always a string of them. Although they amuse me, I rarely post about them.

For example, one dream last night had me attempting to feed two cats. The cats in question were Jade and Quinn. Quinn died two years ago after being with us for twelve years. Jade came to us on Okinawa and was with us for twenty-one years. Both were sweethearts, although Jade was furiously intelligent and willful.

In the dream, I was trying to feed these two in my backyard. I had a food bowl set up for them but they were crowding me, giving me the impression they were hungry. Naturally, I talked to them about it.

“Why are you asking me for food. There’s plenty of food in your bowl. Come on, I’ll” I led through the yard’s lush green grass back to their food bowl. “See?” I pointed. They hurried to their food bowl, sniffing, then turned to me in question. Puzzled, I went to the food bowl. Closer to it, I discovered that what I thought was cat kibble was sandwich wedges. Checking them out with surprise, I discovered they were stale.

“Sorry,” I told the cats. “Let me clean this up and then I’ll give you real food.”

As I was cleaning, putting the stale sandwiches to one side, a man and his family — neighbors — passed by, watching me as they went. I heard the father say to the rest, “He is burying the cats’ feces.” I smiled when I heard him but didn’t clarify what was going on.

That’s where that one ended. See what I mean? There were six or seven of these sort of dreams, about cars, technology, cats, and houses. While I take humor from them, I do acquire some deeper insights about myself from the sitcom dreams. I might be rationalizing what happens but I like it. Still, I’m looking forward to a return my normal dream programming.

I can always use reassuring.

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Maggots in My Hair – A Dream

I was inside somewhere. After shaking my head, I looked down and discovered maggots on the counter. With a few seconds of thought, reconnecting what’d just taken place, I realized they must have been in my hair.

Horrified, I rushed to a mirror and confirmed, yes, there were maggots in my hair. I struggled to understand how they got there: from a cat sleeping by my head maybe? Then I rushed to tell my wife. Occupied with something else, she didn’t take notice. Dismissing her, I hurried to the bathroom to shower and wash my hair. When I checked the mirror again, all the maggots were gone. They’d fallen out onto the floor and counter. I started collecting them to dispose of them while promising myself, shower, wash your hair, hurry.

Dream end.

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The Positive Energy Dream

Many vivid dreams were experienced and recorded last night, enough that I decided to take them in groups.

Most memorable was the positive energy dream, which is the second-shortest dream remembered from the night. It featured three young naked women of color and me. We were always in bed, not doing anything but touching and talking. The third segment was sharpest in recall.

The twenty-year-old woman, with caramel skin like those little wrapped, square chews, was softly rounded and sweet. She’d been telling me about her life and hopes. Telling her to turn over so I could do something, she presented her naked back to me. I ran my thumbnail along her spine from the top. When I reached her small, I stopped and pressed my index finger lightly against her while saying, “I just opened you up so positive energy can flow into you. It’s going to keep flowing into you, helping you in your life.”

That’s where the dream ended. Every time I recalled that sequence, I feel a new surge of energy and feel refreshed. It’s a wild sensation.

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Three Mini-Dreams

The dreams had variety tonight. The essence of each:

  1. In a paddleboat on smooth water, circling a larger boat.
  2. Turned on by a gorgeous young naked woman.
  3. Tracking and registering the results of clinical vaccine trials.

The paddleboat one was shortest. It was also funny to me; I’d dreamed the other night that I was battling muddy water, a not-infrequent dream experience for me, but didn’t have any sort of water conveyance. Alone, I was in one of those little boats that you propel by cycling, as if you’re on a bicycle. Instead of turning wheels on ground, paddles through water move you on. It’s white and blue, in such good shape that it could be new. The water surface is a gorgeous dark indigo glass on a blue-blessed day. Sunshine and silence abound. A green tree line provides a distant horizon.

Paddling along without issue, I knew in the dream where I was going although on awakening, I don’t have any idea what the mission was. In the dream, I came alongside a structure. It’d arrive out of nowhere. I started paddling along the structure. White and red, it could have been a large, sprawling boat. Down by the water line, its structure offered a zigzagging series of platforms. As I took them in, I grasped that I needed to dock at one of them. Then I could just climb to where I wanted.

The young woman dream aroused me. First, I walked into a room where I found a young woman changing clothes. A big room, it was essentially empty and bland. Young, dusky, and voluptuous, the young woman’s thick hair hung straight down her back. She was totally naked. I was chagrinned to have come in on her. She was matter-of-fact. My wife was present and seemed indifferent to my arrival.

Later, my wife and I are in bed in our jammies. I’m spooning her. We say at the same time, “You’re so warm.” Feeling my erection pressing against her, she asked with an amused look over her shoulder, “Really?” Laughing, I answer, “Really.”

I’m then in bed with a friend, again in jammies. I’m spooning him. We both say, “You’re so warm,” and then laugh.

I once again walk into the room where the young woman has become naked while changing clothes. She’s alone. I smile at her and act flustered. She calls me on walking in on her, accusing me of being transparent and deliberate. I feebly try denying it, but can’t pull that off.

The final dream finds me in a secure building at the day’s end. It’s a cluttered and dark place. Secure filing cabinets with dials to open them are all over. Like others there, I’m getting ready to eave for the day when some shipments come in.

Two are for us. They’re vials. One set of vials have been used in clinical trials while the other are unused. Everything are numbered by lots. Both need to be signed into logs, which involves re-opening the safes. A woman, my boss, and I volunteer to do it. After the others leave, I tell her that I can do it all. Hesitating, she asks, “Are you sure?” “Yes,” I answer, so she leaves.

The vials are red, with a sharp needle attached to an end. As I handle the returned products, I accidently scratch my finger with one. Or did I? Even as I’m worrying, I’m not sure it happened. I’m also concerned about which set of vials it is. At first, I think that it was the used vials, which increases my anxiety. Then I investigate and conclude, no, that were the unused vials. Then, checking numbers again, I decide that it was the used ones, and then decide, no, they were the unused ones. I’m not sure at all but, again, there’s no real sign that I actually did anything to myself.

While I’m worrying and fretting, I’ve been working, opening the safes, making the entries in the logs, and securing the vials. But then, weirdly, I don’t know how to document that I opened the safes. I think I know what I’m supposed to do but can’t find the forms. I’m rifling through files, trying to find them. A friendly co-worker comes back in. I tell him that I can’t find the right forms. He starts searching; he can’t find them, either. As he’s looking, I’m babbling on about how I used to know this, and then recall more details. The co-worker has become irritated because he was just being friendly. Now he’s involved in a problem. Then I remember, oh, we’ve been looking inside the files when they’re attached to the outside of the safes, of course. Of course! How can you annotate what time you’ve closed the safe when the safe is already closed? How can it be verified as closed and locked if it’s not on the outside.

Others have returned to work and are asking what we’re doing. I shrug them off. By now, the co-worker is angry and embarrassed because he was looking inside. It makes him look like he doesn’t know what he was doing.

Dreams end.

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Dream Slices

To say that I didn’t have dreams last night isn’t correct. Nor is it correct to say that I don’t remember them. More correctly, I don’t have sharp, coherent memories of them.

I have slices of remembered dreams. One involved cars. I’d gotten out of one car. We’re at like a busy outdoor fair. Someone had been driving me. Another couple arrived in a car. I notice it, a convertible. They have the top retracted. A man I meet says something about it being a special car. Someone else asked why. I replied, “It’s an expensive car, a Maserati, isn’t it?” The man replied, “Very good, you noticed. You know your cars.”

I’m then off to be driven away again. I comment that the car that I was in was a Jaguar. “I’ve looked into buying one,” I said to the driver. He’s become quiet. I wonder why. He was smiling and talkative before. When we walk around the car, I discover that the car I’m to enter is a glistening black Mercedes stretch limo. Then, taking a more focused look, I realize that it’s extremely long, maybe forty feet. I then realize that’s probably why the driver became quiet. How did I mix up a Jaguar with a Mercedes stretch limo?

In another slice, I want to order a beer. That beer isn’t available; “Only one kind of beer is available here,” I’m told. “I know, I know,” I reply, accepting an opened bottle of that beer.

Then there is a bizarre sequence involving a water spray, lush green grass, a water sprinkler, and a hose. I’m soaked. I have both ends of the hose, one in each hand; it seems like I’m holding both of those ends up to keep the sprinkler from running so that the giant water spray can do its job. I don’t know what its job is now, although I knew in the dream.

Altogether, it seemed like a lot of unfocused chaos. Maybe that’s because I don’t remember enough, or maybe it was just chaos. Seems odd that three different makes of cars were seen, but all of them were foreign luxury cars, one Italian, one German, and one English.

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