Tag: fight

A Threefer: The Alligators, Awards, and Colrng Dream

After an era of dreaming where episodic and movie dreams that didn’t feature me dominated, dreams about me have punched back. Last night delivered a dream in three parts.

Part One began with me visiting with my sister-in-law and her boyfriend in Florida. Nice evening, etc, as we strolled along a via after enjoying a meal.

Two small alligators ran toward me. Each was about three feet long. I dodged them while warning others about the alligators’ presence. My SIL said something like, “Oh, those are my pets.”

They could be her pets but that didn’t stop the two from attacking me. As I danced and dodged them, one somehow leaped up and latched onto my back. The one chomping on me had hold of my shirt and a little of my muscle and skin.

I didn’t feel any pain, but I was terrified and wanted it gone. Whirling in circles and shouting for help, I tried getting free. The dinosaur-like beast budging.

I saw its partner still on the cement walk. “Oh, that one is dead,” someone said.

Retrieving the stiff dead ‘gator, I used it as a weapon, swinging over my shoulders to bludgeon the one hanging on. The tenacious reptile hung on. I finally shoved myself backwards into a wall as hard as I can. Crushing the alligator between me and the wall with enough force, it released me but then lunged for my neck. Twisting and ducking, I thwacked it with the dead gator and evaded its teeth. Then I ran away.

Slowing up, I found myself inside a sort of strip mall. Someone who I recognized as a brother (but not my RL brother), a large guy with black hair, was in there sitting at a white folding table.

He said, “Hey, they came out with the awards. I won.”

I said, “Congratulations, well done.”

Picking up the paper, he replied, “Wow, it says that you won, and that’s your ninth time in a row. That’s a new record.”

“Let me see.” I peered over his shoulder and read the news as he gushed on about how proud he was of me. He had a carrying voice. Others were soon crowding around, congratulating me. Disliking all the attention, I thanked them all, said good-byes, and hurried away.

Trying to avoid further attention, I ducked inside a darkened auditorium. Letters lit up in amber light on the far end. COLRNG. With a flicker of thought, I said, “Coloring.”

A man in a tux and top hat, carrying a cane, said, “Very good. Would you like to try another?”

Confusion settled on me. Seeing that word wasn’t hard, which I told him. He replied that most people couldn’t and urged me to try another. Try another? There wasn’t any trying in it. It seemed liked the weirdest game I’d ever heard of, but I agreed because I wanted to see this out.

Letters came up in blue neon. COLRNG. “Coloring,” I said. The man gushed about how brilliant I was. It must be a scam, I decided.

We moved on through green, yellow, and orange. It was COLRNG every time. After the orange letters, he informed me that I’d won a first level prize. Would I like to try for more?

“Sure.”

We went into another room. Letters in blue came up. COLRING. “Coloring,” I said.

The master of ceremonies boomed out, “You won! Would you like to go for the grand prize?”

“Yes. Sure, why not?”

He led me to another room. There, in big red neon letters, was COLRNG. “Coloring,” I said.

“That’s right! Congratulations.” The man in the top hat went on about how I’d won.

“What exactly have I won?” I asked. I expected some small and cheap offering.

“Fame, fortune,” the man in the tux cried.

“Right,” I responded, and left.

Entering a narrow hallway, I moved on. People coming the other way gasped and pointed at me in excitement. Bewildered, I asked, “What is it? What’s going on?”

They bubbled on about being big fans of mind, asking for autographs and selfies. Remaining bewildered, I signed and posed, sure that it was mistaken identity. More people rushed up, forming a queue around me. Security arrived to install order.

Dream end.

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Five Dreams, A Few Thoughts

Five dreams are remembered this morning. Takes a while to process them. I usually do this in bed, eyes closed, pulling out their sequences. What normally happens is that I have a dream and wake up with it in mind, process it, and return to sleep. Then I dream again and repeat the process. Later, I sit and freehand the dreams. Sometimes, when the dreams become larger, more involved and remembered, I type them up. And sometimes I post that result, usually without any insights I acquired, just presenting the raw dream. In this instance, because there were five sharply remembered dreams, I just wanted to share intriguing aspects of two.

I was with my father. It was Christmas. His third wife was there, too. I’d brought twelve gifts meant for my cousins. Several of those cousins are dead. I knew that in the dream. When I showed Dad what I’d bought for who, I actually said, “Even though he died,” when I introduced their gifts. Dad laughed at that and I responded, “They’re dead but they still deserve a gift.”

Gifts included beer, pastries, pasta, and books. I explained to Dad when describing the gifts, showing them to him, why I selected each present. Dad seemed particularly surprised by the beer, which was a German Pilsner with a flippy top, which were common in Germany when I lived there.

What happened next is that I went off for a bit, returning to find that Dad gave away several of the presents to the people because he forgot buy them. So instead of a gift for my cousin, Jeff, for example, Dad gave it to his nephew, Jeff. That left me speechless. In Dad’s usual style, he laughed off my protests and explained that he just said it was from both of us so what difference does it make? The people received the gift, which is the intent of the gift being bought.

I didn’t fully buy into Dad’s position but decided yes, the person getting the gift was most important, so why be an asshole about it?

He later asked me if I had other gifts to give people, because he didn’t buy gifts for others but he thought he should receive a gift. I laughed at him, mocking his lack of preparation and planning, but took him to a white chest freezer and began pulling things out. He asked me why I put them into the freezer. I answered, “Ask your wife. She gets it.”

The other dream had a segment involving a vase. I was in a dim warehouse sort of building, metal, with high, dull lights. Items were stacked on shelves, creating a labyrinth, and lots of shadowy places.

White and tall, with flowers and dragons painted on it, the vase had several cutouts. I noticed the vase and remarked on its beauty. When I did that, one of vase’s cutouts yawned wider and issued a black cloud. I jumped back, pushing the others with me back to avoid it. We discussed, “What is that?” Several, including me, believed it to be poison. We wanted to get out of there fast but there was only one narrow path out. The vase was up on a shelf at head level along the path.

We needed to pass the vase to leave, we found, because we found every other way blocked. Two attempts were made to race past the vase but it moved each time, growing larger and growling at us. Finding a hammer, I attempted to attack it. The vase counter attacked, growling more and growing larger again, issuing more scary black gas. The vase’s cutouts now had teeth.

Someone said, “You have to get rid of that vase.”

“I know,” I answered. Swinging the hammer, I knocked the vase onto the floor. It rolled toward us in a rush. I hurdled it, but it was trapping others. I rushed the vase. It spun around me. Jumping back, I dropped the hammer. Teeth bared and roaring, the vase charged me. Dodging it, I pulled a shelf partially over, stopping it from getting me. I spotted an old black, portable television on a shelf. Grabbing the television, I lifted it over my head and slammed it down on the vase. The television and vase both broke. Enough of the television remained for me to hit it again with the television.

The vase pieces were trying to come back together. Someone threw the hammer to me. It bounced on the cement floor. I seized it and hit the larger pieces of the vase. The vase hissed out wisps of the black cloud. I started kicking its pieces around, shouting at the others to run past it and escape. After the last of them had gotten past, I picked up the largest piece of vase, threw it across the warehouse, turned and ran.

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The Alien Invasion Dream

It began against a scorched black and red sky. I was my current age. The sky was a backdrop as a group of us left one area, heading for a refugee site. We’d been fighting the aliens, and I’d gained experience and insights. My group was small: four. All survivors who had fought.

We arrived at the packed refugee center. An immense aerial battle was underway, with USAF fighter jets fighting invader ships. The AF seemed to be winning. Refugees cheered as invader craft went down with plumes of black smoke.

I knew better, shaking my head, warning the refugees, “It takes more than that to kill the aliens.” I’d fought the glistening white creatures. I knew how they functioned. They needed to be set afire and completely destroyed. If even a small piece survived, it would grow. As it grew, it would attempt to reconnect telepathically with other alien beings. As it grew, it would look for a host human or animal body.

I told the refugees, “We must find and destroy every piece of alien.” I described what to look for. Children rushed up. They’d seen alien pieces and stamped them with their feet. I was horrified. “Don’t stamp on them. Get your shoes off and burn them. The aliens will be clinging to your soles, and they’ll grow and take you over.”

The refugees scoffed. A young, short female survivor in my group said, “Listen to him. He knows what he’s talking about. Do what he says if you want to survive.”

Her words made the difference. The refugees believed me. I went around with people, organizing groups, making certain they had fire. We set up children to look for surviving alien pieces. They walked around in threes. When an alien was found, two stayed there to mark the place while the third went to find an adult to burn it.

The process seemed to be working. Then I saw a small alien piece come up out of the drain in a tub. Although I immediately burned it, more small pieces emerged. I burned them, too, then sent out the warning, the aliens are in the drains. They’re coming up. Check the sinks and tubs. Check everywhere there’s a drain pipe.

I found a tub where a large alien piece had already come up. Approaching it to burn it, it shot out tongue like pieces of itself, trying to hit me. I knew that if it hit me, it would take me over.

Another person said, “They’re going after you. They know you’re a threat.”

I agreed. The conclusion implied scary ramifications about intelligence and awareness of these surviving pieces. Another arrived with the intelligence that more aliens were coming up the drains. “They’re coming up everywhere. We can’t stop them.”

I entered another bathroom. A large, white alien almost filled the tub. In the middle of it was a naked toddler. The child was looking at me and smiling. I said, “The aliens have taken over that child. We need to kill it.”

Intense dream. Really shook me.

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