Tag: five

Vivid Dreams Again

I binged vivid dreams again last night. The most striking one found me as an alien. I didn’t look like one; I looked human as I do now, though younger.

Living among humans, I’d been hired by a secret government agency to infiltrate a group of five women and get close to them. My employers thought the women were the aliens. The five were gorgeous women, I guess in their thirties, intelligent and educated. The five didn’t know that I knew all of them. Each thought that I was having a relationship with them. I quickly became intimate with three of them. The other two held me off a bit, moving more cautiously. I was comfortable with that because I knew those two didn’t need to be intimate to spill their secrets. They just needed to trust me, and they did.

The whole time, I knew they were humans, and not aliens, but I yielded to the agency’s desires to find intelligence on them because this allowed me insight into the government’s analysis and planning.

Then, recovering one of my alien powers, I duplicated myself so that I could be with all five women simultaneously. To further my endeavor, I also created a dup of me that met with my bosses. I had one mind shared among the six so I could gather greater understanding. I treated the whole thing as a lark.

Then, dream pivot, I was called out from those locations. I was being given a prize, a high honor to recognize my great contributions. I didn’t know what they were talking about but being the devious mutt that I was, I was eager to accept these accolades. Five of my six beings had to be re-integrated into one, as easily done as walking through a door.

The worst part of it was that reintegrating into one made me appear about five years younger than before. As people saw me and remarked in astounded tones about my youthful appearance, I laughed it off and told them it came from easy living.

Dream end.

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The Guests Dream

My wife and I lived in a small place in this dream. It was outside and had no walls or roof. Nor, I later learned, did it have a private bathroom.

As said, it was small, tiny, really. It was all about the kitchen, dining room, and living room — without walls, which I didn’t think odd at all. Guests arrived, including cousins. Among them was one a few years younger than me who passed away in 2002 from a heart attack. He was there and in good health and I was pleased to see him. I realized that the guests meant that I needed more kitchen space. Of critical concern was that I make a place for them to make coffee and sit and enjoy the coffee — and BTW, Christmas was on the way, according to my guests. Some began putting up colored electric lights and other decorations.

I set up what I thought would suit the guests, a small, squared off space with an elaborate coffee maker on the left, and a sitting area on the right. My deceased cousin complained about it IAW his nature. I deflected his complaints with good nature. His mother arrived and made observations and suggestions. As I began explanations about the arrangements and my logic, I cut myself off. “Wait. You’re right! That would be better.” I commenced making the change.

Finishing, I stepped away from our square, wall-free, roofless, ‘home’. Around us was a park with swing sets, seesaws, and slides in use by screaming, laughing, chattering children. After surveying them, I turned and spotted two huge bears lumbering by. Worrying about the children, I turned to warn them. They’d spotted the bears. Quieting, they’d climbed bleachers and were waiting for the bears to leave. The bears left without incident.

I went to use the restroom. In dreamstyle, I turned and stepped and was upstairs in a white building. This, I knew, was a stick and wood building three stories tall. I was on the third floor in a hall. A square antechamber was on my right. I faced white doors spread out in the hall and antechamber in an odd and haphazard fashion. Black numbers labeled the doors one to five. The bathrooms, I realized. As I went to select number five, I realized there was a sixth and shifted toward it. As I did, a young woman in loose black shirt and pants accosted me, explaining that the rooms were shared and she was scheduled to use one of them to give a massage and a bath to a client. She said, “You need to reserve the room for your use.” As she talked, she crossed to a wall and took a clipboard with a yellow shirt of paper on it. “We use this to reserve the rooms. I suggest you use it as well.”

I countered with another suggestion, which were cards by the doors, which indicated if they were in use or available.

Dream end.

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The Five Incidents Dream

I was back in the military. The dream featured people I worked with from several units.

It began with an incident involving a major who had a handgun. This was morning. The duty day was just starting. I was a senior non-commissioned officer. I was walking through the HQ building with a cup of coffee. The major had spent part of the previous night threatening to shoot someone, incorporating a real incident that once took place. He’d been protecting himself, he told everyone. In the dream, I was involved because the commander walked by. As he did, he told the major, “Brief him on the incident. Make sure he’s aware.” He pointed to me. Then he told me, “I want you up to speed on this.” The commander went on.

No problem, I understood. That was part of how things were done. The major explained to me how he’d felt driven to defend himself by things he heard and saw. I had the gun removed from him and went on. Another pair of people found me. They’d been involved in a confrontation over suspected adultery. They’d been told to come and tell me about it so I could counsel them on what to do. As the day progressed, I was approached by others with things which had happened.

Several hours had passed. There were now four incidents involving eight people reported: the major with the gun; a couple accusing one another of cheating; some missing money and theft; and a fight over presumed insults and mocking. I suddenly realized that this wasn’t happenstance. Someone was coordinating pieces of misinformation to orchestrate confrontation, which resulted in division and distrust, and distracted us. By now, it was almost the duty day’s end. I went about, collecting the people who’d been involved so that I could specifically warn them that they would probably hear or see something else overnight to further anger, frighten, or confuse them, because someone was using them and their situation to sabotage us and our mission completion. After bringing the eight together, because I thought that by giving them the larger picture of what had transpired, they would better understand, I told them that they needed to be on guard against that, and to not react. After briefing these eight people, I headed off to tell the commander.

I’d seen the commander throughout the day. A little humorously, ‘the commander’ was played by different commanders from throughout my career. All were colonels, though, regardless of how they were later promoted. While going for the commander, I heard a discussion going on among a cluster of officers. Among them was the deputy commander.

She was complaining that the night duty officer schedule had been changed. As a result, nobody was scheduled to be the duty officer that night. The person on the schedule wasn’t available because they were on leave and traveling. Others were certain that this individual wasn’t the one scheduled to be on duty, regardless of what the roster said, but they weren’t sure who it was supposed to be.

I wasn’t surprised. I told the deputy commander that I believed the schedule change had been done deliberately by someone trying to hamstring our effectiveness to respond. I then told her it was the fifth incident and explained the previous four. After all, what were the chances that all of those things would happen at the same time? All were based on festering, long-term issues, but now they were suddenly coming to a head at the same time? I was dubious of that coincidence.

I then warned the deputy commander that I thought she needed to have a backup plan to her backup plan, and then contingency and backup plans to those backup plans, to the order of five. Further, that there was at least one person in the unit behind this, because the officer duty schedule was in a secure area. One of our people had to have been the one who changed it.

Dream end

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The Red Pick-up Truck Dream

The red truck looked new, or vintage mint. A Chevy Silverado, it was a mid-seventies model. Things like time are often less relevant in dreams, so the truck may have been new. Standard cab. Nothing fancy.

I’d inherited it and was going to pick it up. A caveat was attached: I shared the truck with four others as owners. Unusual deal for a truck but I was happy. I arrived and met two of my co-owners. Dream anonymous, they’re nobody I know from my life. Nor can I provide any description. They were just there. They showed me the truck and explained the problem: nobody had a key. That needed to be fixed. “Well,” I answered, “did you look in this drawer?” I walked over and opened a drawer on a small end table. Within was a key. I held it up. “Did you try this key?”

No, they’d never seen that key before. We went out and tried it. It worked!

We walked around, talking about the situation — sharing truck ownership — and admiring the truck. Seemed odd to me that someone would do something like that in their will, unless there was something different about the truck. Investigating, I discovered many parts of the truck was made of precious metal. As I explored and discovered, the others joined me. We discovered many pieces made of gold and silver. The truck was a rolling treasure.

Our final two owners arrived, as anonymous as the first two. We shared our news about the truck’s gold and silver. After we all rejoiced, I suggested that we take a drive. We piled in, three in the cab, two in the back, with me behind the wheel. The truck was shown from above, driving down a pristine highway, glittering with reflected sunshine.

Dream end.

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A Dream of Five Things

It was an interesting, wide-ranging dream with several friends and family members. It also included the remains of a Roman city…in California; an overdue water bill for $53 dollars; returning rental cars; and picking out seats for an airline trip.

GT, an old friend I was stationed with in another country, was visiting me. I lived in Half Moon Bay, California, as I did for several years at the century’s beginning. GT was telling me about his experience in the town. He’d felt creepy and strange, like someone was watching him.

Yes, I explained to him. That’s because Half Moon Bay is built on Roman city ruins. Everyone feels the same effect. It affects some more than others.

“Really?” GT asked.

“Yes. It’s not felt as much on the main streets but it intensifies as you go down the narrower and smaller side streets. The further you are from a well-traveled road, the stronger it becomes.”

“What is it?”

“It’s the energy, spirits, and souls of the people who lived there before us. They still live there.”

I went on to tell him all about it. I then described how other common friends had visited me and experienced the same impact. There’d been articles about it. Everyone who lived there experienced it. I had, yes.

It was time for me to go. A group of us got into our five rental cars and drove to the airport to turn them in. My car was last in line. I had one passenger; I was giving them a ride. It was night, but when we were waiting in line to return the cars, we turned off the cars’ lights and engines. We were stopped on a hill. The car was facing up it. Sitting in the dark, I worried that other cars were going to come up around that last corner and hitting us. I kept checking the mirrors. For some reason, all the cars were to be backed up. I don’t recall this being communicated, but I released the brakes, put the car in neutral, and let it roll backward. As it picked up speed, my passenger began panicking. I decided I needed to turn on the car and lights, doing that as we stopped.

Inside the terminal now, I moved forward to turn in the rental car. I approached a counter where a man informed me that I had an overdue water bill. Some back and forth followed. I learned the bill was $53 and over thirty days overdue. I wanted to pay it then and there but he wouldn’t let me. Because it was overdue, it had to be paid elsewhere, which turned out to be a counter across from his.

My wife joined me. I told her about the overdue water bill. I was upset; paying those bills were her responsibility. She surprised me by shrugging it off. She knew it was overdue. She’d not forgotten to pay it, but decided not to for her own reasons.

I boarded a wide, modern jet aircraft. Five of us, all friends, were present. Five seats, all different — some were brown leather but others were cloth — were in a half circle. One friend, a VP and former co-worker, was trying different seats, grinning as he explained that he wanted one which reclined and swiveled. I already knew what each seat did. As soon as I could, I took the seat that I wanted in the front and center. My friend was disappointed because he was still trying the seats but I ignored him. I had as much right to the seat as him, and it was the one I wanted.

The end.

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A Dream of Angst and Symbolism

Dream hits keep coming. In another busy night, one stood out.

I was welcomed into a luxury hotel, room 506. There, I found wonderful devices. Connected to my brain, they enabled to accomplish things with simple thought. Think the words and they’re typed. Imagine a food and it’s there. Ponder a drink and it’s at hand.

Wow, of course, right. I was giddy with amazement. Enjoying myself, I went off. Dream time zipped by. I found myself lost. Struggling to find my way back to my hotel and room, I ended up down on an airport tarmac looking for a way in. A woman gave me a white cap. Realizing everyone was wearing one, I put it on so I blended in. Then, trying to sneak into the building past the others (I was casual about it), another woman with a loud voice accosted me, demanding that I write three things on my cap. That confused the hell out of me. (Love that expression: look, no more hell in me! It’s a temporary state, though.) I asked, “Why should I write that on my cap?”

She snipped, “Because you’re part of my security team.”

Removing the cap with a smirk, I answered, “No, I’m not.”

I just walked past her after that. Suddenly back in the hotel, I asked the staff, “Where’s my room?” They replied, “Who are you?”

Although it irritated me, I gave them my name. Then I asked, “What room am I in?” They told me that I should know my room number. Irritation growing because they weren’t helping me and I couldn’t remember my room number, I began guessing. I recall something about two. “Two something, two something. Two oh five. Two oh six.” Then it hit me, no, no, it’d been eleven. One and one was two. I’d reached that by adding the numbers together. Right, five oh six.

Knowing the room number and suddenly the key, a card, was in my hand. I rushed to my room. Shock and dismay quickly displaced my happiness and satisfaction. The room had been trashed. All my neat stuff was damaged and broken. Walking around, I demanded, “What happened? Who did this?” As answers didn’t come, I thought, I must fix these, and began picking up the pieces.

That’s when this dream ended. Yes, this one was weighted with all manner of symbolism and angst. Still fun, you know?

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Another Car Dream

Such a pleasant and satisfying dream last night. Nothing special to it.

A friend had built a car. Although it resembled a circa 1969 Porsche 911S, he’d built that body on a new 991 chassis. Its engine was a turbocharged 4.5 liter flat six. Fat tired but inconspicuous, it was a dainty jewel.

I was buying it from him, Gene, for next to nothing. The only thing that bothered me was its color, bright red. For the rest of the dream, it was a silvery slate blue that reflected everything in its high gleam.

Opening the hood, I checked out the engine bay. He’d done professional work, and the car’s finish was like Porsche had built it. I was extremely pleased.

After acquiring it, I picked up two friends. We were meeting two other friends at a restaurant and going to a concert. The car’s power and grace as I drove stunned me. It was so smooth and controlled, far beyond anything that I’d ever driven. The car’s quiet, unencumbered speed impressed my passengers.

Arriving at the restaurant, we met the other two. I checked out their cars. One was driving a current generation Lexus. The other drove an Infiniti. That pleased me. As I told the friends I’d picked up, there was five of us. We wanted to take one car to make it all easier, and couldn’t go in my new Porsche.

The restaurant was an expensive and charming place sitting by itself in a green field with a parking lot. As it’d just opened for dinner, we were the only customers. We sat down and ordered a light dinner. I had some paperwork from the car. Essentially, the builder had typed up an owner’s manual. I read through it as we ate.

Then, time to go, we headed out to the cars. Plans were made; one car was being left at the restaurant.  I was taking my car home, just up the road. We’d take the third car, the Lexus, to the concert.

Newer Porsches were now in the parking lot. None noticed my gem. I was experimenting with the accelerator, checking its responsiveness. The engine barked and snarled like a racing car, instantly answering the call for power with revs as I trundled it past the other parked cars. At one point, I had to stop to permit another to back out, which I did willingly, feeling cheerful and accommodating toward others.

Then we were exiting, turning left, going up a highway on a hill and around a curve. I quickly raced past others. The tach was redlined at 10,200, very high for a street car. The turbo was indicated on the tach as coming on at 8,200, which was also high. I remembered reading that, and also talking to the builder. He’d made it that high because he didn’t want to be dealing with turbo lag. With four and a half liters, it had power to do anything needed without the turbos.

I wanted to open the turbos and feel it. I was being cautious, though, intimidated by the power that I knew it had. I’d driven turbocharged vehicles and knew that the turbo could catch you out. You had to be aware when you used it.

I also knew that I needed to go home because that’s where the others were expecting me. Then I remembered, shit, I’d left my paperwork back at the restaurant.

Executing a u-turn, I returned to the restaurant. The dining room was now filled. Someone was at the table we’d used but I could see the paperwork. I told the hostess the issue and headed across to the table. By the time I arrived, the paperwork was gone. I addressed the people, a young man and woman there, and asked them about the paperwork. They hadn’t seen it.

Turning around, I realized that I was at the wrong table. The right one was behind me. And there was the paperwork. A businessman had just picked it up and told me that he was just moving it, it was there when he’d arrived. At my request, he handed it to me.

The dream ended.

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