A Dream: Graduation
I dreamed I was at a sister’s house with other family members, getting ready to go somewhere. I never actually saw anyone but knew this and frequently spoke with them, but just in passing comments.
I knew my sister had decided to start a new business. I saw these large, clear plastic trays, made for transferring fluids, were dirty, so I stopped and cleaned them all, to help her out.
They were all in my sister’s car, waiting for me, a maroon vehicle. I then downloaded two computer things to her car: business planning software for her, and directions to my uncle’s house for me.
When I got in the car, my sister said, “There are two downloaded items.” I explained what they were.
She was driving. I got on the phone with my uncle for directions. I knew how to get there; I just needed the final address. (This uncle is deceased in real life.)
He gruffly asked me if I had pen and pencil. I didn’t but felt that wasn’t needed, and would just depend on my memory.
My sister dropped me off at a facility where I was to graduate. Others who were to graduate were also arriving, in groups. Most were younger. I got in line alone. Watching the operation, I realized that they graduated us in small groups in a building and not on stage.
As I reached the door and stopped, waiting to enter, I noticed the man behind me was trying to push me forward. I turned around and told him not to do that. He, a bearded white guy with wavy blonde hair and blue eyes, backed off.
I went into the room when called forward. I again had to wait. I noticed that they were providing mysteries to the people ahead of me. They were expected to solve them using math. I began trying to shift my focus to do better.
We went left, and then right, lining up. When I was second in line, a man helping with giving out the diplomas came to me to identify me. After he did, he explained that I was graduating at a higher level than the others, and things were a little different for me. He moved me to one side to wait.
After a little bit, he brought over a white sheet of paper and told me to hold onto it. I examined it and gathered that it was a summary of my achievements and records, but it was written in a small font and was often different foreign languages so it didn’t make much sense to me. There were also symbols, like the ‘eye on the pyramid’ used on US money.
Dream end
Fascinating Dream: Aliens
It was a fascinating dream for me. When I awoke from it, I thought, I’d been watching a television show or movie. With a bit of surprise, I then realized I’d been in the dream, along with my wife and two children, which were my offspring. But I was both involved by watching as a minor character and sort of injected into some scenes.
My wife and children and I were tourists processing through some station. Aliens were there; sort of Klingon-like, in light grey blue uniforms with a jacket which has a deep red collar and a matching red shirt under it.
While traveling, all of us are stopped by these others who basically want to enslave us. It’s a troubling scene. I’m passive with my wife, not sure what will happen to us verses the others because we’re human and are supposed to have a different status. Nonetheless, we’re detained with the rest.
There’s then a scene where our captor and one of the captives go back and forth about what’s go be done in this cave where we’re being held. I realize that they’re having a disagreement over a matter of reference and perspective.
The captor keeps saying, ‘to your right’, and the other keeps saying, ‘that doesn’t make sense’. I then try to clarify that the captor is talking about the direction from the way he’s facing, while the captive is facing the opposite direction.
I end up getting up and pointing this out on a diagram they have posted on an easel.
We then ‘watch’ as captives are taken to another place to mine stuff. I don’t know what they’re mining. They make a show of it. I then suddenly realize that they’re secretly mining knowledge.
When the captive of before decides they’d learned enough, he reveals that he has a weapon. Shaped like an obelisk – really, just like a foot tall reproduction of the Washington monument, but shiny, silver-gold – the captive holds it up. Pressing a button, he sends a signal.
Suddenly, all these other dead, sleeping, and collapsed aliens awaken and rise. Each of them are equipped with a like obelisk. Using these, they overpower their captors.
As my wife and I watch, we realize that the revolution has begun.
Dream end.
The Little Competition Dream
It seemed as if I was in a quasi-military unit again. A new guy, young, I arrived as a strange ceremony was underway.
I took it in at a glance: large wooden but modern yurt. High wooden ceiling. People in uniforms – could be military, marching bands, firefighters – in groups, waiting.
Two senior people took me aside. The taller one said, “Your timing is perfect. We’re going to have you do the judging.”
I was like, the judging? I said nothing.
They led me to a round wooden table. On it was a brown wooden basket. “Basically,” it was explained, “you find their flare and trinkets and count them up.”
They were doing activity as this was being explained. I watched, following, gleaning the essence. This was a competition. The groups had stuff. I had to find it but judge it not on its merits but on its quantity. This would not be hard.
I counted some stuff. Marked it. Initialed the little slip of white paper it was on.
My instructors laughed. “Don’t bother initialing it. That’ll slow you down.”
I was affronted. I wanted accountability. Precision. But said nothing.
One of the groups’ leaders, tall guy with a rambling reddish-brown beard, was watching and spoke up. “He’s doing the judging? Look how slow he’s going. This is going to take forever.”
The tall leader responded, “He’s just starting. He’ll speed up.”
Indeed, I was speeding up, and learning the challenge’s intricacies. For example, in one green uniform, they had hundreds of small pockets. In each was a little gold trinket. Each had to be found and counted.
That’s how it was with all of these uniforms. The teams found things and hid them. Everything was small, and it was up to me to find and count it. Pretty nuts, I thought.
A woman in uniform, waiting to hand over her garments for my inspection and counting said, “This is pretty important to people.”
I nodded; I could tell.
She continued, “They put a lot of work and thought into it.”
“I can see that,” I replied.
The small things were adding up and time was going faster. I found new places to stack it all, keeping it neat and orderly.
Dream endThe Little Competition Dream
I was in a quasi-military unit again. A new guy, young, I arrived as a strange ceremony was underway.
I took it in at a glance: large wooden but modern yurt. High wooden ceiling. People in uniforms – could be military, marching bands, firefighters – in groups, waiting.
Two senior people took me aside. The taller one said, “Your timing is perfect. We’re going to have you do the judging.”
I was like, the judging? I said nothing.
They led me to a round wooden table. On it was a basket. “Basically,” it was explained, “you find their flare and trinkets and count them up.”
They were doing activity as this was being explained. I watched, following, gleaning the essence. This was a competition. The groups had stuff. I had to find it but judge it not on its merits but on its quantity. This would not be hard.
I counted some stuff. Marked it. Initialed the little slip of white paper it was on.
My instructors laughed. “Don’t bother initialing it. That’ll slow you down.”
I was affronted. I wanted accountability. Precision. But said nothing.
One of the groups’ leaders were watching and spoke up. “He’s doing the judging? Look how slow he’s going. This is going to take forever.”
The tall leader responded, “He’s just starting. He’ll speed up.”
Indeed, I was speeding up, and learning the challenge’s intricacies. For example, in one green uniform, they had hundreds of small pockets. In each was a little gold trinket. Each had to be found and counted.
That’s how it was with all of these uniforms. The teams found things and hid them. Everything was small, and it was up to me to find and count it. Pretty nuts, I thought.
A woman in dark green serge uniform, waiting to hand over her garments for my inspection and counting said, “This is pretty important to people.”
I nodded; I could tell.
She continued, “They put a lot of work and thought into it.”
“I can see that,” I replied.
The small things were adding up and time was going faster. I found new places to stack it all, keeping it neat and orderly.
Dream end
Sometimes, These Things
I was running for exercise. As I did, I became aware of my body’s sounds. A novel concept emerge.
I curtailed the run and went home. Sitting down, I typed up the first twenty pages, about 2500 words, then went for water and to clean up and change clothes. While I was doing those things, I realized a potential ending and saw more scenes.
I added the book to my To Be Written document.
Just the way it goes, sometimes, you know?
Michael Seidel, writer 