Tag: festival

The Disasters Dream

Sunshine blazed down from a cloudless blue sky. I was arriving at a busy site ensconced in a valley’s flat green floor, either a fair or festival, I realized. Laughing and happy folks were everywhere. Waving to me, my wife and her sister called me over to their group, introducing me to others and then explaining in turns, “This is the Father Festival. You’ve never been to one? It’s put on every year. Free food, games, and prizes. There’s music and dancing later. Have a drink.”

Taking this in, I looked around and saw fathers of childhood friends and male teachers circulating, instructing, ordering. No, I’d never heard of this, but I participated.

Then, dream shift. The festival was nearing its end. A mountain hid the sun. Though the sky seemed clear, it was much suddenly much colder as shadows cloaked us and the light faded.

I’d been traveling and decided I wanted to change clothes. A group of us found a motel and got rooms. Entering one, I asked the others to leave the room so I could wash up and change. Talking and laughing forced me to raise my voice. “Will you all get out so I can change?” Laughing, mocking me, they finally acquiesced.

I found my long-sleeved blue shirt. That’s the one I wanted to wear. Just as I stepped toward the bathroom, the building shook. In another second, people yelled in shrill voices, “Earthquake.” Sirens rose.

A man broke into the room. “There’s a tsunami warning. We need to leave and get up the mountain.”

Dressing in my blue shirt as I left the room, I joined my wife, her sister, and a small group of people. “Come on, we need to go,” I said. “This way. We’re going up the mountain.”

We fell in with a queue of people also trying to get up the mountain. Peering ahead, I saw fire up on the mountain’s upper side. Pulling my group aside, I said, “It’s on fire up there. Come on. Follow me. This way. Don’t tell the others yet. There’s going to be a panic, and then getting away will be a problem.”

I led the rest along a narrow mountainside path that was going up. I heard them yelling behind us as they discovered the fire. People were re-directed to follow me.

Stinging black smoke descended down on us. Bending low, covering my mouth and nose with a mask, I told everyone else to do the same. We hurried on along the path.

Then I came up short as I rounded a curve. The quake had opened a wide and deep crevice, and our path was gone, along with a chunk of mountainside. There was nowhere to go but back, but back wasn’t safe because the fire was engulfing where we’d been.

Dream end.

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Burgers and Beer Dream

The dream found my wife and me on vacation at a seaside resort. Throngs of people enjoyed warm and sunny weather as a festival proceeded. Bands played and people sang. Many milled about, going from one spectacle to another.

We broke out of our small luxury place on the main boulevard and proceeded down the seaside promenade where the main events were taken place. Sunshine teased blue wavelets and gulls wheeled above. What struck me dumb was wherever I went, crowds so that I was never bothered by the numbers, never needed to wait in line, and was never stopped unless I wanted to be stopped.

We returned to our room because we needed to dress for dinner. Dinner plans were unsettled but we were meeting others. Our suite had a living room with large windows. Strangers were gathered there, along with an employee, a big bluff, graying hair white guy. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail. We conversed about who we are and who we’d been. A dark-haired white woman with red lipstick wearing a dress that matched her lips sat in a blue accent chair listening. He and I ended up talking about cats as I discovered that he had a cat on a leash. I told him about a RL trap, neuter, and spay project I’d participated in during one duty assignment. Then I told everyone that they needed to leave because I needed to shower and change clothes. The woman in red stood up and kissed my cheek, thanking me for helping cats, and then she and everyone else left.

I went into the other room, showered and changed. When I came out, my wife and her sister were sitting on the sofa. They told me that they didn’t want to go out. They didn’t feel like dressing up and were worn out by the day. How ’bout if we called room service and just had burgers and beers with fries in the room. That worked for me.

Dream end.

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The Bike Dream

Young again, my wife and I were visiting a town. Resplendent with cobblestones and old stone buildings, but in a warm environment by a large body of water, it seemed like this we were somewhere in southern Europe by the Mediterranean. A fair or festival was getting underway. Entertainment and food booths had been set up. It was briskly busy, in a pleasant way, with people enjoying themselves and one another but not so many people that moving around was difficult.

I went into a business, to a counter to make reservations for three couples. Entering, I had to follow a path prescribed by a red velvet rope, as used in theaters, and go through several checkpoints. I was a little confused about what I was doing and why, calling out to clarify and confirm it with my wife. But, yes, I was reserving three hotel rooms for six people. While this was going on, people were asking me to watch out for something I was carrying on my back. I never saw this thing in the dream but knew it was a large piece of art. The man behind the counter warned me (but in a friendly way) to watch that I didn’t break anything as I moved around, as they had glasswork hanging from the ceiling. There was much joking about all of this.

Back outside, my wife mentioned that friends said they’d been successful just getting two and a half rooms. That made no sense to me, so I asked her to repeat it. We went through this three times. As this happened, we were holding hands and walking up a hill on a cobblestone street. A man with a red bike joined us. A stranger, he was somewhat famous, and very good looking, with fine, Latina features. His English was accented but he spoke it well. He was walking his bicycle up the hill as he spoke with us, but then got on it and rode straight up the hill. As the hill was steadily steeper, his riding was impressive, especially when he did a wheelie and went up half the hill on only his back wheel. As he reached the top, my wife and I turned around to walk back down. We were talking and sightseeing while all this was transpiring.

The guy with the bike dismounted from it as he reached us and started walking his bike again, but he didn’t speak with us. He veered off, staying in parallel, and then released his bike. To our amazement, the bike stayed upright and wheeled ahead, but stayed with the guy, like the bike was a well-trained pet. His bike was red before but now it was black, puzzling me. Had I seen it wrong before, or did he change bikes?

Then, though, the man started slowing down to look at things. As he did, the bike sped up. I pointed this out to my wife; the man was paying no attention to his bike. We watched in astonishment as it went straight down the hill, crossed the busy street, and then stopped and stood still and upright in the sunshine.

Dream end.

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The Festival Dream

I went to a bank, a modern building, small, almost empty. While there, I heard rumors of something else being behind the bank. I decided to investigate. After following a hallway briefly, I entered a large chamber. All of it was a very light gray stone, stone the color of pale, thin fog. The chamber is broad and tall, with an uneven but flat floor. Centerpiece to it is a giant square head carved from the rock. Trying to take it in has me craning my head back and shifting position. Three columns are hewn into the rock on either side of it. A sense of time thousands of years past washes out from it.

I’m turning toward the right. I can see that the broad chamber continues that way. I’ve decided to follow it but as I’m walking, I grow away that the chamber reverberates. I stop to feel it. It’s not a heartbeat. At once softer and more powerful, it flows through the rock and me. Feeling it, I become lifted by a glorious spiritual mood. The chamber grows brighter and whiter.

Next, I’m walking on a paved path through countryside. I’m among many people. My wife is with me, along with families with children. A large percentage of the children are riding little carts that they stood up in and propel along with their foot. Everyone is laughing and merry. We’re on our way to a festival. Conversations are struck up. We enjoy the company of two other couples for a while. They’ve just bought new homes and moved into them. I’m surprised to learn that they moved into my old neighborhood in Penn Hills, PA. I learn that one couple are now living in the house that my aunt’s family lived in up the street at 314 Laurie Drive. I wonder if anyone has moved into my old house and start asking questions.

We stop at a cafe. Adjacent to the sidewalk, it’s open on every side except the back. The cafe is light, airy, white and yellow decor. We sit in the back right corner. Drinks are ordered. We’re chatting with others. Everyone is so friendly and happy. Elderly people in black are passing on the sidewalk. One slips and falls. We all shout and leap up to help her. Five or six others fall. We realize that they’re playing a joke on us as sly grins spread across their faces. We all have a good laugh.

A little blonde girl sits beside me. She tells me she’s moved. She says she lives at 314 Laurie Drive. I turn to one of the men and he acknowledges, yes, that’s his daughter.

Then we’re walking again, resuming the way to the festival. My wife and I reach a hill. We can see a new housing plan below. The houses are all pastels. Many are turquoise and pink. Some are yellow and pink. They have round, green yards. Most have one or two doghouses in their yards. The doghouses are always in the same color as the people’s house. I ask my wife if we should buy one of those houses. She laughs and answers, “Those aren’t for us.” I nod in agreement because I feel the same. They’re too contrived and conform to some code that’s alien to us. We turn and move on.

An uplifting sequence of dreams all the way around.

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A Changing House Dream

I dreamed that I was outside somewhere. Late afternoon, the sky was a deep azure and completely cloud free. It seemed to be a festival. Many people were there, but I didn’t know them.

Celebrations had been going on. I felt tremendous, — relieved, relaxed, and happy. I was celebrating an achievement after a long effort. As part of that, though, I’d also changed houses, selling one house, and buying a new one. Today, I would take ownership of my new house. I was looking forward to that with excitement. Meanwhile, though, I was enjoying this festival.

The festival, which had some food booths, was located alongside a lengthy bluff. Beyond the bluff was the blue, majestic ocean. Calm, powerful, and deep-looking, sunlight splashed on the waves like tiny diamonds were being spread over the water. As the day ended, the organizers were showing a movie outdoors. I’d been about to leave, but decided to stay to see what the movie was. After the opening scenes, I recognized an old hit movie, something from the late eighties or early nineties, that was really just so-so. I decided that I didn’t want to see it again, so I began heading indoors. As I went, almost everyone else made the same decision.

I was going to a large, modern, white building. It seemed to be a luxury hotel. As I went, I had a thick magazine about houses in my hand. It was a glossy, colorful production about great places to live in the area, and so on. In the middle was a tear-out section. Made of thinner paper and in black and white, that section was about homes that had been bought and sold, or were available to buy. I knew both of my homes, the new one and the old one, were in there, and made a halfhearted attempt to look them up as I walked. I thought it was pretty clever of the magazine creators to have this middle section that could pulled out and easily updated and replaced.

I entered the building with a black family: father, mother, and two young boys. One of the boys was playing, and pretended to shoot me. I pretended to fall over dead, laughing as I did. I happen to fall over my brown sofa, which I recognized, thinking of it as my old brown sofa. (In real life, we’ve had this sofa for twenty years, but we’ve ordered a new sofa, and are waiting for it to be delivered.) As the family went on down the hall, I got up to head for my new place eager to see it.

Unfortunately, a cat woke me, so that’s where the dream ends.

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The Tiger Dream

It was another chaotic and hectic dream. 

I was camping with friends at a big music festival. The place was packed, reminding me of images from Woodstock back in 1969, but with better weather. Everyone was having a good time. As part of a group of ten to twelve people, we all had roles for setting up and sustaining our party. I was responsible for a cooler of beverages and ice, along with a sound system. I brought them, set up, and we had a good time. As night fell, I found a sleeping bag and crashed out.

The next morning, the celebration was cranking up early. I looked for the cooler and sound system. Neither were found. I told the others, “I asked you guys to look after it.” Laughing, they shrugged that off.

Okay, I had to find them. As I started out, I said, “I have two things to do.” As I said that, I realized that there was more to do, so I said, “No, I have four things to do.” Then I ticked them off my fingers. Unfortunately, I only remember looking for the cooler and bringing it back, and doing the same with the sound system.

I set off through the packed grounds. Sometimes I’d tell people what I was looking for, but mostly, I just wandered and looked.

As I did, I saw a young tiger running toward me. I’d heard rumors while I was rambling around that they had young, wild animals like cougars at the festival. As I saw the animal, I heard a young woman say, “Oh, look, a baby tiger.” I thought the tiger was young but not a baby.

A woman said, “It’s not supposed to be out.”

The tiger ran toward me. I prepared to catch it, but it veered at the last moment and leaped up a tall stack of shelves filled with cans, containers of ketchup, bags of flour, and jars of pickles. The tiger’s jump amazed me, but the tiger didn’t stick the landing. As I began reacting, it fell off the top shelve, which was over a dozen feet high, and landed on the ground. The woman came forward and scooped it up.

“Did you see that tiger jump?” I said, pointing at the shelves. “That tiger jumped to the top of those shelves. It was amazing.”

Although I said this several times, nobody else seemed to have noticed, and nobody answered me.

The dream ended.

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Flooftober

Flooftober (floofinition) – a celebration dedicated to pets and animals. In some places, it never ends.

See also: Flooftoberfest

In use: “Raising a sweaty mug of sudsy beer, he shouted, “Happy Flooftober. Who wants a treat?” As the dogs and cats trotted forward, tails wagging or up, as was their style, he opened bags and began giving each a treat.”

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Flooftoberfest

Flooftoberfest (floofinition) – an annual festival that emphasizes celebrating pets.

See also: Flooftober

In use: “Every year without fail, the Richmond home began the ten day celebration that became known as Flootoberfest. As was their practice, they began by giving their cats and dogs a bath as the bird watched and made comments.”

 

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