Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
The ceiling fans are still. Baristas behind the counter are quiet. Low-key. Not like them.
The coffee house is a third full. Music plays. People chat and work phones and laptops, sipping beverages, nibbling treats. But a feeling rolls through. Something is off. Different. Like the building is waiting to inhale.
Maybe it’s not them or the building. Perhaps it’s only him.
I was visiting my sisters and their families. Someone was in the kitchen preparing food for us but I couldn’t see them. The kitchen was shallow and narrow, with silver and stainless-steel machines across its front, on top of a breakfast bar. We were all laughing and talking. I don’t recall anything said until I said, “Hey, how do you get into that kitchen?” I wanted to go in. “There are no doors.”
That wasn’t answered because at that point, I felt a powerful energy, a humming vibration, sweeping around me. Raising my hands, I stepped back to feel it better. “You guys feel that?” They all said no so I explained, “A powerful energy is flowing through here.”
Acting on an impression that struck, I moved back into an empty space in the adjacent living room. “Watch this.”
Putting my arms straight out to my sides, keeping my body stiff, I let myself fall face forward. As expected by me, I never hit the floor but levitated above it by several feet. “See that?” I called to them.
The children were watching and gasping in amazement. “How are you doing that?” several asked.
“I’m must using the energy. You can do it, too. Watch.” I landed on my feet and then repeated my act of falling forward and levitated again. The children were trying to copy me.
“I think I can higher and control myself,” I said. Then I changed my hands and moved forward, flying higher. Understanding that flight control was possible, I flew toward an open window.
Dream end.
Laying in bed and thinking about his dreams, he told himself, you have to get up. Feed cats. Drink coffee. Try to live.
It felt like it was going to a stretch day, a day when you stretch your energy just to be.
Ella was bubbly, happy, upbeat, and friendly, as usual. She took his usual drink order and then he asked, “Are you always so energetic and upbeat?”
She thought for two full seconds and then nodded, smiling, eyes bright and big. “Yes, I am.”
“Do you get here and drink a gallon of coffee when you start your shift?”
Ella smiled. “Would you believe, I don’t drink any coffee or tea.”
“Sugar? Chocolate?”
“Nope. This is just how I am.”
He smiled in admiration. “Wow. I am so jealous.” He hoped she was always like that but who knew how her life would change?
I was traveling a long distance with a group. We reached out destination and prepared to return. I engaged the leader. He had a large, laminated map. Using it, he showed our segments of travel and the energy expended during those times. He planned to do the same for the return. We entered a back and forth about the energy. I insisted that the total energy should be considered a final sum and that we could then break it up any way we needed, that we didn’t need to use the same energy, time of travel, etc, on the way back, but were free to do whatever we preferred. After lengthy discussion, he agreed.
I was then with a group of ex-military. We’d been working on projects that involved previous military resources. No longer used or needed, we were repurposing them. This included buildings, furniture, vehicles, and sites. All of us were demoralized because the work we’d previously finished in this manner was each time then successively destroyed or plowed under. As our leader laid out the newest project and exhorted us, I asked, “What’s the point of this?” I pointed out in detail what happened to the three previous projects and asked, “What’s there to make us believe that it won’t happen to this project, too?” He couldn’t argue back. At my suggestion, we abandoned the idea and agreed to put our energies into something else. We began to search for that.
I ended up with childhood friends in one of their houses. The house was gorgeous, very impressive. It had an infinity pool, which really impressed me, because it looked like silver and some to go on, well, for infinity. We played and splashed in the water. Coming into the house, I was embarrassed for us because we were getting water everywhere. I ran into his mother who waved away those concerns, laughing while telling me, don’t worry about that.
We decided it was time to leave but needed to dress first. I put on a pair of blue jeans. Pain lanced down my leg. As I reacted, I saw a large white and black striped coral colored spider dropped onto the floor. It was about the size of my palm. I considered stomping and smashing it but didn’t. Checking my leg, I verified that I’d been bitten. A large purple and red welt was rising. There was pain but it had plateaued.
The spider scurred off to the wall. Others wanted to go after it but I urged, “Leave it alone. It’s not a threat to anyone.” Conversations mushroomed about the evidence to the contrary, that I’d been bitten. I pointed out that the swelling was already gone. So was the pain, and my skin was returning to a normal color. Therefore, that was all temporary and no big deal. I finished dressing and hurried out after my friends.
Dream end. All in all, very positive and energizing.
I was younger than my present age, a spitting image of someone who I once was, and I had an unlimited number of pies. I was outside. People, beginning with my wife, came up to me. I would ask, “Do you want a pie?” They’d always reply, “What kind of pie,” and I would answer with a jovial sense, “I can give you any kind of pie that you want. Berry, apple, peach, cherry…I have them all.”
Now for the weird part.
Whenever they agreed to take a pie, I would pull it out to give to them and then say, “Wait. You’re missing something.” This always confused them. I would then go to where two white tubes hung down from the sky and say, “Here, I’ll put it in your pie.” They’d ask, “What are you putting in my pie?” I’d reply, “I’m adding what you need.”
Someone asked, “Where do the white tubes come from?” I looked up in confusion. They seemed to come from the sky. Then, though, looking around, I discovered the tubes were attached to a black wheel. The wheel hung in the sky and was really just a flat black disc hanging vertically in the sky about five feet off the ground. Further, I had several sets of them. The wheels alternated between having two white sets of tubes and two black sets of tubes. I went to different wheels to put things in the pies to give people.
My sisters came along and asked what I was doing. After explaining, I said, “I’m glad you’re here. You can help because demand is growing.” Then, looking across the rolling green hills, I saw throngs of people coming from every direction. That really pleased me. I wanted everyone to have one of my pies.
My sister asked, “How do you know what to put in them?” I said, “You can just look at them and see.”
She replied, “I can’t do it. I don’t see anything.”
I answered, “Yes, you can. You can learn. Keep trying. It’ll come.”
Dream end.
I was in a small building where there was a small office busy with people. It had a feel that seemed lifted from a 1950s movie. They had published something. Different authors were asked to read it and express what they thought. I was one, and my response was not like everyone else’s, triggering a new path.
Yet, I was never certain what was going on. I’d read and commented on something, but it seemed vague throughout the dream. My response made them ask me attend a conference with them. An old friend, a college professor, was going, too. He and I would go together, driving across country in a big, dark blue Lincoln Continental. He prepared to go in a hectic frenzy. I seemed baffled about everything he did and confused about what was going to happen next. Yet, soon we were in the car, driving across the country through light rain.
He was driving. I said something about seeing people needing a ride and wishing we could help them. Next thing that I knew, he pulled over for a hitchhiker. The hitchhiker climbed into the back. I offered to take a turn driving but the professor insisted that he was fine.
Seeing several more people on the side of the road, he pulled over and offered them a ride. I was leery of this, feeling that we didn’t have the room, but people crammed into the car. I looked into the back seat; it looked like a small, cluttered room. A blanket covered the rear window. That was to keep out the light so people could sleep, I guessed, but worried that it was illegal and we’d be pulled over. I again offered to drive, but he dismissed the offer.
We arrived at the conference. My impression was that it was a giant flea market, although it was indoors. People selling junk seemed to cover every square foot. Moving was done slowly, carefully, patiently. Food was being sold. I was hungry but passed on getting something to eat because I was reminded that we were having a big banquet. Someone gave me cookies, which I ate.
The head, a tall and bald white, middle-aged male wearing hornrim glasses, gave a short speech. He told everyone else that I was going to write about my impressions of the article they’d published. That startled me. Everyone applauded except me. Bewilderment was overtaking me. I was to do what, when? I didn’t understand but didn’t know how to ask the question.
Then, without me doing anything, the professor told me it was time to go. I realized that it was the weekend and that he needed to be back in order to teach Monday morning. We rushed around, packing things into the car. I offered to drive, since he’d driven us out there. He agreed. The dream ended as I entered the car and put my hands on the steering wheel.
Michael Seidel, writer 