Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
Just learned today that a good friend, a few years older than me, is suffering dementia. I’ve been through this with other friends in the last twenty years, so I’m loaded with expectations. Most of them aren’t good. But medical technology keeps advancing and I hope that my buddy and his family don’t endure what many others have gone through.
Fingers crossed, you know?
He thought he saw a friend entering the coffee shop, staring at him as the other passed.
Impossible, of course. His friend, Andy, died back in the early part of the century, murdered while on a business trip in Tennessee, a story misted with mystery. Andy and a woman he’d met at a bar talked to a man in the bar about buying a boat. After some drinking, the three went out to the man’s house at midnight to see the boat. A fight ensued.
Andy always carried a knife and pulled it now. The knife was taken from him. Stabbed twice in the abdomen, he staggered half a mile down the long dirt road leading to the house. A trooper found him dead on the roadside hours later.
All that came back as he watched the man with the remarkable resemblance to Andy. Other possibilities could explain why the man looked like Andy. It could be Andy. Andy could have returned from the dead. Andy’s death may have been faked, the death story constructed as part of some larger con. Maybe Andy had a twin he didn’t know about, or he’d crossed into a dimension where Andy still lived. Theories crowded his head as Andy’s doppelganger took his coffee and departed the establishment.
He couldn’t let it go. Catching up, he called, “Andy.”
The man turned back to him. A smile flickered over his expression. “No. Not me.”
Sipping his coffee, the Andy twin turned and hastened away.
Despite a nightly barrage of dreams, it’s been a while since I shared one here.
Today’s offering began as my wife and I were driving on a highway. I was at the wheel. Looking ahead, I saw a car coming and knew an accident was about to happen. So, as it began, I turned to avoid it and announced, “Accident.” Cars collided and spun. I went around them and had managed to get us through. My wife told me, “Way to go. It’s a good thing you saw that.” Her tone told me how impressed she was.
Just then, a car came up, slewed around the other wreckage, and hit us in the rear. It wasn’t heavy, and the car didn’t seem greatly damaged, but we were on our way somewhere so I said, “Come on. We’re going to go get a new car.”
I went to a car lot. They sat me down in a room, purportedly to complete a survey. An attractive young woman was seated close to me. Almost immediately, she began flirting with me. I felt she was there to entice me into spending more money than I’d planned to buy more car than I wanted. So while I joked with her, I wasn’t letting her comments steer me. In the end, I told them my selection from what was offered. They glumly completed the transaction, and off I went.
After I left, I discovered I’d purchased a BMW. It was a small, sporty model. I picked up my wife, and she was pleased. Only after driving for a while did we realize that it was white, a color neither of us liked on a car. I chastised myself for not looking at the color before I bought it.
We went to a house, which turned out to be a modular home. I drove the car inside and down the halls. My wife came to the car window and told me we had to go but a RL friend arrived and asked for a ride. She was checking out the car, and complimented us on the purchase. In order for the other two to go, I needed to back the car down the halls and out the front door. I did that. Clouds were darkening the day. The friend commented, “I think rain is coming.”
I agreed with her. They entered the car. As I began driving, the sky turned black and a downpour struck. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed. I drove down the highway into the rain.
I was working, just finishing a job. I don’t know any details of the work but it’d been administrative, computer stuff. My boss came over and said, “I just want to let you know that you’ve been doing really great work.” I liked, admired, and enjoyed him, so that really pleased me. Afterward, I went out with a few others. When I returned, I presented my boss with a gift of a bottle of red wine, which he happily accepted. Witnessing this, the company head loudly said, “You know, I like wine, too.” He repeated this a few times in a joshing way. We all laughed, and I told him that I got the message.
Leaving again, I entered my car and drove away. This was a car I once owned in RL, a black1993 Mazda RX-7. After driving some street roads, I entered the outskirts of a city where I picked up a friend to give him a ride.
He and I chatted away. Stopping at a traffic light, I looked over at the man in the car beside me. He was looking at me and my car. I immediately knew he was Korean, although I don’t know why that mattered.
Leaning over, he looked in my car’s open window. He complimented the car’s condition and took out a small brown cardboard box. Inside were two small white pieces. (Awakening, the pieces reminded me of the microwave pieces I’d used to fix it.) Saying, “I know these cars, and although yours is in excellent condition, you’ll need these parts to keep it going,” the man reached into the car and put the box into a small alcove in the dash that doesn’t exist in the real car.
The dream’s end found me in my little black RX-7 with my wife and the guy I was giving a ride. Three in that small sports car isn’t a pragmatic expectation but it worked in the dream. We were driving asses to elbows through city traffic under a cloudless sky. I was telling her about the Korean man and the parts he’d given me. Then I said to my wife, “Oh, damn, I forgot my new uniform.”
Dream end.
Friends and I were awakening from sleep in a darkly cluttered place. Three or four others were there, including one friend from RL forty years ago. The others were dream friends but not anyone from this RL. As the sun rose, an old stage, perhaps once part of a high school but now outside, gained substance.
We talked about news while sitting up, rubbing sleep out of our faces, and stretching. One was complaining that people didn’t understand the news and headlines. Someone suggested that we should do plays where we would just read headlines and stories and then explain them. Sounded good to me. Someone else said that we needed to clean the area up but I asked why because the stage with its clutter and junk seemed like a meta statement about our world. As this conversation went on, the sun rose, daylight came up, papers were dropped off on the stage and people became walking past. We’d been rolling up our sleeping bags, putting other shirts on, and making coffee. Now one guy picked up a newspaper and started reading it aloud. People going past stopped to listen.
I went down steps, out the back, and met my cousin. He and I went off to collect our clothing, which was somewhere else, because we needed to get ready to go. He kept talking about what he was going to wear and asking my opinion of his ideas, but I wasn’t deeply invested in that and didn’t respond much. Reaching a building, we went upstairs and found our open suitcases. This wasn’t the clothes we wanted; that was at Mom’s house, my cousin thought, suggesting that we go there. I told my wife where we were going. She decided to come with us.
We entered a large white vehicle with a thick black stripe down each side. The inside was flat and wide, with a thin, gray carpet on the floor. Windows were on every side, giving great visibility. Some gray folding chairs were set up in it in the front, but we would need more. I set up some chairs that I found, dubbing one in the second row by the window as ‘mine’. Two people were already seated in the front row, where three chairs were set up. One of those was my SIL, who was waiting to leave as well, which startled me. For some reason, I didn’t expect her there.
My cousin had disappeared, and so had my wife. I went out to Mom’s home and found the clothes which I wanted, and put on a green shirt to wear while I traveled. Going back outside I saw cars pulling up and parking on the lush green lawn. “They’re not going to like that,” I told others several times, talking about the people who lived in this housing area. “They’re proud of their lawn. They should move their cars before they’re found.”
Everyone ignored me. I found my cousin back inside Mom’s house. Mom was talking to him as he complained that his clothes weren’t there. I looked and discovered that the suitcase holding his clothes had been emptied. I told him that he would just need to go in what he was wearing, which really upset him.
I returned to the white car. Nobody had set up any more chairs. The driver was present, adjusting his folding chair as a seat, along with my SIL, who was still in her seat. My wife was in the seat which I’d designated for myself. I complained about that with her; she ignored me. Exasperated, I set up another chair behind my SIL. I asked her where she was going, and she answered, “The same place as you.”
I responded, “I’m going back to school.”
She answered, “So am I.”
The car rocked with movement. Going to a window and looking out, I discovered that the car was tall and much larger than expected. We seemed to be twenty feet off the ground. I didn’t know how that was possible.
Dreams ends as the car moves forward with me looking out the window and others talking behind me.
I was a young man, as I often seem to be in my dreams these days. Visiting at a childhood friend’s home. He wasn’t there. His mother, Arlene — who is deceased in RL — was hosted several of us attending a local school. While visiting, we were all watching television. I settled down on the blue carpet and went to sleep.
I awoke sometime later. Sitting up, I discovered that I was in a short-sleeved black dress. A little more explanation is needed. The dress was black, but see-through. It buttoned in the front. It had wide seams which weren’t transparent, and front pockets which also weren’t transparent. The dress came down to my knees, and I was fully dressed, in the same clothes as before.
Standing, I wondered what had happened and how I’d come to be wearing that dress. I attempted to take take it off but the buttons couldn’t be undone. It was tight, but with some maneuvering, I managed to pull it up over my head. Just as I am finishing, I hear a soft tearing sound. That stops me from trying any longer. Just then, my friend’s mother comes in with a tray of food and drink, telling me that it’s time to get ready. She goes on to explain that she put that dress on me to stay warm, sets the tray down, and hastens to help me. As she pulls it over my head and off, she tells me that she hopes she can get this off without tearing it because it’s special to her. We then hear it tear more. Looking at it, she sees that it’s torn and is dismayed, but then tells me to eat because I need to shave, dress, and go.
I eat an egg salad sandwich from the tray and drink coffee, and then start dashing around. My clothes are upstairs but the bathroom I’m to use is down below. As I hustle around, going up and changing clothes, then going down and shaving, others arrrive. I hear that my friend’s father will be arriving at any moment. (He passed away in RL a few years ago.) I want to be dressed and ready to go before he gets there. But then, he comes in.
I’m called upstairs. As I go up the steps, someone else tells me that Fred — the father — and Arlene want to see me. I step into the dining room where they are. Fred has a box on the table, and is opening. As he says hello to me, Arlene explains that Fred just purchased his first CD player and she wanted to know if I had any CDs for him to play because he doesn’t have any. I tell them that I have just the thing and dash downstairs.
I’m thinking that I’ll loan them several of my classical music CDs, which will surprise them, thinking that it’s more like the kind of music that they would like, rather than the rock I listen to. But I brought my little CD case, and there’s no classical music in it. I select a few blues CD and take them back up to them. Grinning, I explain the whole thing about the classical music CD.
Dream end.
I’ve not seen my friend since my late teens. Oddly, I’ve dream of him since then, as well as his parents.
I was asked if I would be Sheriff. People would need to vote me in, of course. I accepted the offer because I didn’t think it would come about. I didn’t campaign so I was surprised to hear that I’d won. I was also surprised to hear me referred to as ‘the short guy with the short hair’.
I was young and happy. Becoming Sheriff was something I took seriously but was also that I wasn’t going to let dominate me. As I was leaving to walk around with a friend, an older man sharply said in passing, “I prefer my sheriff with his gun.”
Oh, yeah, I’d forgotten my gun. Guess I needed to carry that around. As I began walking out with my gun and my friend, the same older acquaintance said, “I prefer my sheriff to wear his gun in his holster properly.”
Oh, silly me, of course. With my friend’s help, I holstered my gun and put on my holster around my waist. He and I walked around. He was going on a journey to the north. I was helping him review what he needed to take with him and offering any help that I could give. Everywhere we went, people commented on the ‘short-haired guy who is our new sheriff’. I thought that was funny.
Rain fell. I had to put on a coat. That demanded I rearrange my gun holster. My friend helped me with that. As soon as we did it, the rain stopped. He and I entered a shop. An argument was going on. As it escalated, someone said, “Sheriff, can you intervene?”
I walked over and told the participants to break it up. They asked, who are you? I replied, “I’m the sheriff.”
They laughed. “You’re not the sheriff.”
“I am,” I answered. “I have a badge, I have the power and authority, and I have a gun.”
That shut them up. They walked away. My friend and I walked outside. I said good-bye to him and shook his hand.
Dream end.
The dream began with great vibes. Returning home, I was being feted as a hero. I’d just slayed a monster, apparently about the fortieth time that I’d done so. Appreciation for me, and my fame, were growing.
First, there was a question of what to eat. A pot roast was being offered; “What would you like with it, Michael?” an elderly woman asked.
“Well, I like those little potatoes browned with them, along with pearl onions and carrots,” I told her. “That was how Mom made it, how I made it, and how my wife made it.” The word was passed, this is what he wants, this is what he likes.
An invitation came to join a military organization. “You’re a hero,” a woman recruiter told me. “We need heroes. You’re a leader. We need leaders.” My, I was flattered. Yes, I agreed, with little hesitation.
Other recruiters and their recruits arrived. I met recruits brought in by my recruiter. I made friends with one man. He was big as an NFL quarter back, and muscular, but very friendly and easy-going.
More recruiters and recruits arrived. Six groups were formed. After dressing in military green uniforms, we filed into a temporary trailer being used as an office space. There were way too many people in the trailer within short order. They were going to do the swearing-in ceremony here. Alright, I thought, let’s get this done. But then, they started trying to do it simultaneously in different corners, with everyone trying to speak above everyone else. The recruiters had also made name plates. They revealed that they’d ‘manufactured’ them by removing door and desk plates and writing on the back of those. The recruiters that this was funny in a sad, pathetic way.
Growing irritated, I was having second thoughts about joining. Who would want to join such chaos? Not me. But I also thought I could take charge and create order out of the chaos. So, I began making suggestions to improve. Why don’t the six groups do their ceremony one at a time? Give each group a number. Do it sequentially.
The recruiters close to me liked that idea, but it had to be communicated with the other recruiters across the room. I told them, “Just tell everyone to be quiet. Use your command voice.”
As that was agreed, a recruiter shouted for quiet. My big friend walked off, head and shoulders above the room. My recruiter came to me and asked if I was friends with him. Yes, I answered. “Did he use to be a football player?” she asked. Yes, I affirmed, he was.
She nodded. The dream ended.
The dream upset me. First was one with the usual military overtones. Superintendent of a command post, fixing it up, blah, blah, blah. I experience so many dreams of that ilk.
It segued into a road trip dream. I was in one car, a red convertible, top up, with a friend. It was a shiny, impressive car. My wife was with a female friend and a coupe in another car. The friend and I in the red car were talking about where we were going, when we were getting there, when we should leave. We agreed, we were prepared to leave; let’s go.
The other car had been parked beside us. I got out to go speak with them and discovered them gone.
Shock surprise went through me. I returned to the car. “They left,” I told my friend.
“They left?” He was as incredulous as me. “Where’d they go?”
“I don’t know.”
I called my wife. After she said, “Hello,” I asked, “Where are you guys? Where’d you go?”
She laughed. “We went to go have a party.”
“A party?” I swallowed the phrase with amazement. “We’re due to leave. We’re supposed to on the road now, starting our journey. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you say something first?”
That’s where the dream ended.
This dream was all about a friend’s appearance. He’s a professional musician. Been doing it since the late 1960s. He’s on dozens of albums, released some of his own, played with rockers all over the world, and scored movies.
My wife and I were outside. Not our ‘real-life’ home but it was our home. Lot of green grass, bushes, and trees. I looked across the way. Saw D, my friend, the musician. He was in gray shorts and a maroon tee, playing basketball on outdoor court. Dribbling, hook and jump shots, three-pointers, passing, doing it all in an impressive way. Never missed a shot. Never blocked. And no one scored on him.
My wife and I reacted, “Wow, look at him. Who knew?” Amazing to see him out there, lean pale body flashing, shock of silvery white house fluttering with action, that ready grin on his face.
She and I went back into our house. Had to prepare to go somewhere. Glancing out the window, I thought I saw someone working on the neighbor’s lawn. I thought it was D. Made no sense. He’s a musician, not a landscaper.
We went back outside, leaving the house, going for the car. I told her, “Wait.” I checked the neighbor’s yard. Yes, lawn work was being done. Bushes and trees trimmed. Grass cut. Driveway and walk edged. A vehicle with a trailer of equipment was parked at the curb. There was D.
I called his name. He turned. Waved. “You’re doing yard work?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I need the money.”
I went on and told my wife what I saw and our conversation.
Dream end.
Michael Seidel, writer 