The Prophecies Dream

I was invited to participate in a picnic with a number of families. It wasn’t a large gathering, perhaps thirty people. Adults and children, both sexes, very casual, being conducted at a tall apartment building where the all lived. I was invited specifically to answer questions about prophecies. In the dream, I thought nothing of it and felt quite prepared to answer questions and explain prophecies.

First, though, we ate. Mountains of food – BBQ chicken and ribs, salads including potato salad, corn on the cob, burgers and hot dogs, along with plenty to drink. The food was great and I ate my share, though I was warned to save room for dessert. A presentation by a couple people followed. Then, I was asked to explain why what they’d prophesized in the presentation was wrong. Before I could speak, though, dessert was called for. Everyone walked and milled about, finding themselves a piece of pie or cake. Several men approached me and asked if they could quiz me on some other prophecies because they’d heard me speak before. Sure, no problem, I said. But before that could take place, they were interrupted by their children and the little meeting broke up.

I waited to answer questions but everyone went down to play whiffle ball in the backyard. Adults and children were playing. It was a crowded, narrow green field with a white split rail fence to one side. They talked me into playing. The rule is, you were at bat until you hit the ball into the field of play. I was first up and hit the first pitch, a long line drive that only managed to be a single. Getting to first base, I laid down while the next person took his swings. He finally got a hit but I wasn’t paying attention by then. I finally managed to leap up to run but instead said, “Know what? This just proves that I shouldn’t be playing. I’m sorry.” I walked off then, going back upstairs.

A Sweet Dream Trilogy

I’m not going into details about dreams last night. I think, remembering so much, it would consume chunks of time and I have things planned that need time. So, in summary.

I dreamed first that I was with men in the military. It was not the U.S. military, but I don’t know what nation it was from. I was a young man, training the men how to build things. We were just finishing up, and it had been very success. I was basking in popularity. Young women came along. To help with celebrations for finishing, they set up a small store. The white store was decorated in purple and pink with heavy glitter, amusing me. They were giving out candy that was in buckets. A place beside them was grilling food. Everyone, including me, was eating, and having a good time.

Then, dream change, I was with a group of women. Again, I was a young man. We were out in a meadow surrounded by lush, heavy forests. It was a small group. The women were variously dressed in white, purple, or yellow gowns. I’m not certain what I wore. I think I may have been wearing orange. I was teaching the women. We were just finishing when a flock of birds flew overhead, seizing our attention. I said to them, “That’s a fitting ending.”

The third was briefest, where I, once again, a young man, was in a little classroom in a small, old schoolhouse, teaching young children. The schoolhouse was white. We were sitting on the wooden floor. I was talking to them, telling them stories, and they were laughing and cheering in response.

Remembering the dreams invigorates me and makes me smile. All were so sweet and affirming, even if it doesn’t come off that way in my brief captures. If only all dreams left such a positive impact when we awaken and take on the day.

The Little Girl Dream

It’s a flash dream. A little white girl. Chubby and blonde, in pink shorts and red shirt. She’s about six years old. She shouts, “No! No more children!”

Then she stands and thrusts out a chubby pale arm. “They are what they eat and they eat what they are.”

She strikes a pose on her toes, arms over her head. “Kazamm. It is fixed.”

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.

The Change Dream

I’d arrived, again, at a new military assignment. How many times has this happened in my dreams?

Wearing a uniform, I checked in, found billeting, changed clothes, and wandered around, orienting myself. All this happened within a large, modern building. I was pleased to be there. Anticipation filled me.

Many young people occupied the place. Everyone seemed happy and engaged with their activities. They’d been working on projects, striking me as students. I had to wait several times as people showed off their projects to their fronts, blocking the way.

But I stayed patient, indulgent, as they were younger, and I thought them less mature, and less responsible, so they deserved some latitude.

Eventually, I was assigned my permanent quarters. Going there, I was surprised that a young male and female were in my quarters. They explained that the previous occupant had just left, and they were leaving, too.

Fine with me. I began searching for my uniform and was surprised that I couldn’t find one. How the hell was that possible? I’d worn a uniform while traveling. Yet, that was gone. I’d sent clothing on ahead, but the battle dress uniforms I’d sent on were also gone. Becoming upset and annoyed, I sought some way to purchase a uniform to carry me through until my uniforms turned up.

A sharp jolt interrupted the proceedings. I was on some steps with others when it happened. Earthquake, I immediately assumed, awaiting aftershocks, ready to run. Everyone, including me, started nervously laughing with relief when no aftershocks came, and then resumed our activities.

I heard, then, that new uniforms were on the way, not just for me, but for everyone. A massive change in how we would look was being initiated. At that point, I thought, oh, I’ve been out of the military for a while. Yes, uniforms have changed since my time. Of course they’re changing. I commented on that to a young group that I encountered.

They told me, no, everyone was being given brand new uniforms as part of a makeover. In fact, they said, new guidelines about how people were supposed to act, work, and behave were also expected. They were all excited but also anxious.

Surprised by their news, I then went searching for guidance about how I was supposed to be acting while also searching for uniforms to wear. I then concluded in an epiphany, my uniform didn’t matter. I would just do what I need to do and worry about a uniform later, if necessary.

Relieved by that, I entered a room. Busy with people doing many things, usually groups, I walked around and determined that it was a rec center with a snack bar. Smelling burgers, I decided to eat, but as I walked over to order, I saw a table of blue binders. That’s the new guidance, I deduced after some studying. I took one of those and start reading. Within a few minutes, I thought, why, this is how I’ve always acted.

I looked around to tell someone else my insight, but all were excitedly talking with one another about the new guidelines. After a few moments, I went in, and ordered a cheeseburger. There was ice cream available, too, and though it tempted me, I could smell that cheeseburger. I paid and took it to my room to eat.

I took a bite of cheeseburger and enjoyed it. It was just as promised, juicy and grilled, with onions, tomatoes, and lettuce. A stillness overtook me. Time had changed. So had the world. The things that were normal were no longer true. My little sisters had aged, my parents had aged, I had aged, my wife had aged, the world had aged.

Guidelines pushed aside, I began eating. The dream ended.

The Theater Dream

The theater dominated, but there were several features, some of which are clich├ęs to the max (ha), like a military phone call (that wasn’t a call), and being pantless.

To begin –

With others, including a boss I used to have, we were going to the theater. This was some special deal, a grand event.

Checking in was an odd process. We entered a pristine, glistening marble foyer, black on the floor, pink on the walls, white on the ceiling. Stunning. Machines were embedded in the pink walls. After moments of floundering uncertainty about what to do, we realized the machines would provide us with our tickets. More floundering (instructions were absent) before figuring out, look into the small bas relief image on the machine and speak your name. Tickets were issued with fast, impressive swish. We guessed that it was a security system which identified us via a retina scan and voice.

The ticket lit up with gold arrows telling us where to go. Following its arrows, we learned from an employee that the ticket was geared to our bodies, that the machine back there had also verified our weight and scanned our bodies to verify who we were. Wow, some system, we said to one another, while wondering, why would a ticket need to be so specific to an individual? Nervous jokes were made.eate

I ended up in a bedroom. This couldn’t be right, I thought, but was reassured by my previous boss that it was. She was friends with the theater owner, so had gotten this box for us. It was the owner’s personal box. But I, confused, because it was a bedroom, was ready to challenge that when one wall opened, showing the stage right in front of us. Besides that, my ex-boss showed how we could watch the play via multiple monitors.

Great deal, I thought, impressed, but still freaked. The box was obviously a bedroom, and was full of jewelry. Be jeweled bracelets and watches abounded, along with key chains with keys. I didn’t want to touch anything lest people thought I was trying to steal it.

Then, horror, I knocked a bracelet off a dresser. It landed in my pocket. With alacrity, I fished it out, hurrying because I didn’t want to be seen.

A phone rang. I realized it was the Wing Commander calling on his hotline. Punching on the connection via one of the old 306 consoles (where did that come from), I answered with my name and rank.

“Sorry,” the commander replied. “I was sleeping and accidentally pressed the button.

Time to go! Leaving the theater, we went to a party in a luxurious mansion. Bottles of expensive red wine were being opened. People were asking me, what wine do you want? What bottle should I open? I was answering, there are bottles already open, let’s not waste them. I like red wine.

Bottles were opened anyway. I had a little red wine, straight from a bottle. Wow, it was fantastic. Then —

Time to go! Seeing the wine being wasted, I tried to put corks back into the bottles. They fell out, refusing to stay. I as being urge on.

Back at my place with my wife (which I understood was a temporary place), she offered me food, which were breakfast leftovers, she explained. I selected a few pieces, even though they were cold, and ate a bit, which tasted good. Then —

Time to iron! I needed to iron some pants because I wasn’t wearing any. I found pants and two ironing boards with irons in another room. One iron was small, like a toy. They other was a standard-sized iron on a standard folding board. The two options confused me. Before I could decide —

Time to go! My wife informed me that we needed to leave to go clean up another place. I protested that I’m not wearing any pants. “Don’t worry,” she replied. “Nobody will see you.”

We arrived via dreamport (that is, we turned around and were there) in a small house that doubled as a business. It looked tidy but my wife said that we needed to clean it. I agreed but told her that I needed to iron my pants and put them on first.

Right after that was announced, several of my wife’s friends arrived. I hastened to cover my lower nakedness as they laughed, hooted, and pointed, brushing it off, they’d seen it before, before they went off into another room, where my wife served them coffee and tea.

The dream ended.

I think my subconscious (working with my conscious mind) this morning, decided this dream was about broken dreams and lost promises. But after thinking about it while walking and then writing it out, I think it’s about the imposter syndrome.

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