Tag: future

A Shambolic Dream

Arriving somewhere outside, I was met by a man I knew. I’d worked with him at a startup after my military career. Now he was dressed as a light colonel. Greeting me and my wife, he said, thumb over shoulder to indicate direction, “Come on over here and join us. We’re going to review your records.”

So first, I acted like that was completely and totally normal. I said to my wife, “Oh, I guess I’m in the military.” She agreed and went off to do something while I went through my review.

Several problems immediately presented. One, no uniform. Two, haircut out of regs. So was the mustache. Three, I needed to get my records.

My records were to have been pulled and sent over for the review. I was directed over to an area where a table was set up like it was in a record store, but this was all outside under a sunny early autumn day. People were milling, going through the sectioned records, searching for their records. Someone offered to help me. As I went through them, I found my records and so announced. But wait; those weren’t my records. The first and last names were correct, but the middle name was wrong. On, no, they’d sent over the wrong records.

As I swore a bit about what had happened, I noticed another table to the left. It wasn’t set up in the same way. I stepped over to it and there were my records.

I rushed them over to the large card table where the review was being conducted. I knew several of those folks from both military and civilian careers. As I came up, I heard one chief master sergeant say, “But that’s how he aways is.” Others agreed.

I was mortified. Were they speaking of me? What did they mean?

They reviewed others’ records. When it came to be my turn, I joked with them and then explained that I was just back, I’d been visiting with my mother, who’d been very sick. They seemed disinterested. They looked through my records and commented on my haircut and lack of uniform. I told them that I was trying to get it together. One said, “Didn’t you come back from being with your mother a few weeks ago?” When I answered yes, he continued, “Then shouldn’t you have it together by now?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Let me go get my haircut. My wife was just telling me that I needed to get one. And my uniform is in my locker. I’ll get it and put it on.”

I went off, with my wife joining me. We were mumbling to one another about the situation. She had my clothes, having gotten them out of my locker. Great, but they were horribly wrinkled. Where could I iron them or have them pressed? There was no time, no time.

Then, some young airman dressed in a black pseudo-NAZI military uniform insulted my wife. Overhearing it, I was furious. Confronting him, I wanted to hit him but instead warned him that I was taking action against him. Laughing, he told me, “Fuck you.” That pissed me off further. Another person attempted to defend him as the first guy stood there laughing. I told both that I was busting their asses before my wife pulled me away.

Stepping out of the locker area, I put on the wrinkled pants. Others, including the board members, turned and watched. I then tugged on the shirt only to realize that the shirt and pants were from two different uniform combinations and didn’t match. I thought, oh my God, now I’m screwed.

The guy who greeted me at the dream’s beginning came up. He said, “Don’t worry about any of this. We’re cutting you a break.” As I responded with astonished relief, he went on, “They reported that they found a spell on you, a curse. We’ve lifted that, but since you were under it up to this point, we thought we’d give you a pass.”

The dream ended as I was absorbing this.

0

A Three-fer of Dreams

I was traveling a long distance with a group. We reached out destination and prepared to return. I engaged the leader. He had a large, laminated map. Using it, he showed our segments of travel and the energy expended during those times. He planned to do the same for the return. We entered a back and forth about the energy. I insisted that the total energy should be considered a final sum and that we could then break it up any way we needed, that we didn’t need to use the same energy, time of travel, etc, on the way back, but were free to do whatever we preferred. After lengthy discussion, he agreed.

I was then with a group of ex-military. We’d been working on projects that involved previous military resources. No longer used or needed, we were repurposing them. This included buildings, furniture, vehicles, and sites. All of us were demoralized because the work we’d previously finished in this manner was each time then successively destroyed or plowed under. As our leader laid out the newest project and exhorted us, I asked, “What’s the point of this?” I pointed out in detail what happened to the three previous projects and asked, “What’s there to make us believe that it won’t happen to this project, too?” He couldn’t argue back. At my suggestion, we abandoned the idea and agreed to put our energies into something else. We began to search for that.

I ended up with childhood friends in one of their houses. The house was gorgeous, very impressive. It had an infinity pool, which really impressed me, because it looked like silver and some to go on, well, for infinity. We played and splashed in the water. Coming into the house, I was embarrassed for us because we were getting water everywhere. I ran into his mother who waved away those concerns, laughing while telling me, don’t worry about that.

We decided it was time to leave but needed to dress first. I put on a pair of blue jeans. Pain lanced down my leg. As I reacted, I saw a large white and black striped coral colored spider dropped onto the floor. It was about the size of my palm. I considered stomping and smashing it but didn’t. Checking my leg, I verified that I’d been bitten. A large purple and red welt was rising. There was pain but it had plateaued.

The spider scurred off to the wall. Others wanted to go after it but I urged, “Leave it alone. It’s not a threat to anyone.” Conversations mushroomed about the evidence to the contrary, that I’d been bitten. I pointed out that the swelling was already gone. So was the pain, and my skin was returning to a normal color. Therefore, that was all temporary and no big deal. I finished dressing and hurried out after my friends.

Dream end. All in all, very positive and energizing.

0

Ah, Another Military Dream

I was a younger man, actually my age when I retired from the military in RL. I was dressed in a common uniform of the day, the woodland camouflage battle dress that I often wore.

I’d been invited back for a visit. In most of my assignments, contact was limited to a dozen people in a unit; I worked in a command post, one to three people to a shift, locked in a vault-like space. No windows, one door, eight to twelve hours a shift. People weren’t allowed in without proper clearance, previous approval, and a reason to be there. We were often armed, in case someone who didn’t fit those parameters broke in.

But there was one unit where I worked regularly with aircrews, the training staff, admin, etc. Everyone had access to me, and me to them. This was the unit where I felt closest to my co-workers.

These were the people I was back visiting. We’d been a covert intelligence unit back in the day, but the Berlin Wall fell, the USSR collapsed, and our mission ended. I went back to the US to Space Command. Many in that unit went on to special ops, gunships, or on loan to do drug interdiction on behalf of the DEA. It was this last that was going on in the dream.

We were outside in a large field. I was back by special invitation to watch a military operation, and people from then were back by invitation to see me. Several came back and told me what they’d done since we’d last seen one another thirty years ago. One of the last, Capt. Z, said, “I think it’s time for me to go.” He was hesitant to speak. I said, “No, you’re too young. You still have more to give.”

He shrugged. “I think it’s time. I don’t have a choice.”

He left. The operation progressed. An officer said, “Now Priscilla will explain how the unit coordinates with other agencies to intercept and track illegal drug activities.” Priscilla began leading several squadrons of personnel in military uniforms across a wide street.

As I watched that, I realized that it was Priscilla, a RL friend from my current era, a college professor who had never been in the military. I thought, why is she here?

Dream end.

0

Charges

Charge the morning

Charge the night

Charge the day

Charge the light

Charge the phone

And the car as well

Charge it all

On the way to hell

Charge your buys

At the stores

Charge your donations

To the poor

Charge the present

With some crimes

Charge the past

With guilty signs

Charge the government

And politicians, too

Charge me

And I’ll charge you

2

The First Day

First day of school. She’d had to buy her son a new Backhand. He wore it proudly, turning to see it again and again. Fiddling with its controls. Mastering it.

A Backhand. On her son. Her five year old. She’d not gotten a Backhand until she was twenty-three years old. But they hadn’t been affordable to her until she was twenty-two. By then they’d been around for five years, replacing phones, watches, laptops, and everything else. Just a device on the back of your hand, doing all those things, feeding off your body’s energy. She still discovered it as amazing and creepy.

She wasn’t ready to surrender her little boy to the pearly halls of education. He seemed so small and fragile. This was the pain of being a mother. Her mom told her she would experience it. She knew she would, too. She’d been a virtual mother for two years, training for the vocation.

“Are you nervous, Jayed?”

Jayed turned his liquid brown orbs at her with a bright smile. “I’m not nervous. Why would I be?”

Not surprising. He’d gone to in-person daycare and online classes since he was three. They grow up so fast.

Jayed said “They’re going to start teaching us emoticons today. I already know most of them.”

Kary’s mother came in as Jayed said that. She, of course, couldn’t stop a head shake. Habit and personality compelled it. “Emoticons. I remember when we learned cursive writing. I was older than him. It was phased out two years after my class. Oh, how things change.”

She squatted down before Jayed. “Look at my little scholar.”

Jayed was dressed in his best red shirt with black shorts and purple rubber sandals. Corporate sponsors on his front and back. The usual suspects. Energy companies. Baseball and football teams. Restaurants and banks. They all had part of her baby already. But this was good. Without corporate sponsors, they wouldn’t be able to afford public school. The city’s NFL team, the Mexico City Aztecs, had stepped forward in a big way. Paid for all his vaccination, his share of the teacher, and his meals.

The teleporter chimed. “Time to go,” Jayed said, spinning and striding toward the teleporter like a miniature man. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll be okay.”

She rushed to him, along with her mother. Both bent, forcing him to turn back to them, lavishing the youth with hugs and slobbering, noisy kisses as they said, “You be good. Treat others with respect.” He endured and accepted, then smiled. “You shouldn’t be so emotional. I’m just going off to school. I’ll be back tonight.”

Then he stepped back into the teleporter. Raised the Backhand to the keypad. Synced. And was gone.

0

A WV Dream

Dreamed I was in West Virginia last night. An interesting twist to recent dream trends. I lived in WV for three years. My father had moved there as part of a business deal. I went with him, graduating high school there before joining the military back in 1974. I’ve been back a few times since. Dad no longer lives there.

In this dream, I was back as a guest, and was about twenty years old. Apparently some show that I created was going into production. It somehow involved WV. So I was there, soaking up local flavor. I was also mindful that many wanted to be part of the show and were trying to impress me. Much of what was to transpire would be recorded by a film crew following me around. But the crew wasn’t always around.

It was late afternoon on what felt and seemed like an early fall day, sunny with clouds. A young man wanted to take me around to show me the real WV. I was skeptical and nervous, actually a bit fearful, but I wanted this experience. So I said, “Okay, lead on.” Eagerly he drove me to another location in a dilapidated, smoking car. He talked through a broad grin and heavy accent the entire time. Was taking me to meet others and have a drink. Having parked, we were required to walk down a hill to a house. Three other young men, my host’s friends, met us. They seemed dubious and suspicious of me. Then, apparently realizing who I was, became eager to impress me. First, I was poured some clear drink that was a potent local vintage alcohol. They downed their shots and urged me to drink mine. I did with a wince, enduring a blaze down my gullet.

Next we walked to another location. They were all talking as we went. We came to an enclosure. My senses and thinking were overwhelmed by then. The enclosure looked muddy. Fenced in, it apparently presented some threat. They discussed it; I didn’t understand. One explained to me, “Carefully edge around this.” They were showing me where to go. Up along a wall. Over a small fence. Along another wall. They would go another way as a distraction.

I climbed over the cyclone fence. Footing is uneven. The space is narrow. Began going along a crumbling stone wall. The fall would only be five or six feet but they’d warned me not to fall. Suddenly, yelling. A woman is yelling at me. A barking dog races over the enclosure at me. The others, who were supposed to be creating the diversion, are up at the top, urging me to hurry. I speed up. The dog runs up and starts nipping at my legs. I get over the final fence. We all laugh about this.

We pack into a small car for a short drive. The experience has relieved tension. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. We’re more amicable and trusting. We take a short drive along a winding back road. Arrive at another’s place. Not sure if it’s a bar or a home. About twenty people are there, waiting to meet me. I’m walked around, introduced to people. They’re eyeing me, asking questions about the project. I’m laughing, comfortable and happy as I answer them.

Dream end

2

With A Bullet

He watched the lights. Knew the sequence. What to do. Checked his watch. Been in line forty-five minutes. Sweat sheathed his back. Not from heat.

The woman ahead seemed confused. WTF. How? R-O-Y-G-B. Someone was talking to her from a monitor that he couldn’t see. She was laughing at herself. Hoarse sound. Like she’d been smoking. An odd thought for someone her age, in a lilac and white dress with dark purple shoes and matching glasses and hand bag. Where was she going.

She went on. The light was red. He fixed on it. Glad his wife wasn’t here. And sorry. She would like this. And hate it.

The light turned green. He stepped in. Fixed on the new set of lights to his right. R-O-Y-G-B. Stereo female voice said, “Look into the blue screen ahead of you, please.:

That screen was ten by ten inches, he guessed.

“Find the black light and focus.”

Damn. He’d forgotten that. How could he see the other lights if he was staring at the black dot in the blue screen. Found it immediately — did he get a reward? Focused. A soft click was heard. Gentle whirring followed.

“Welcome, Gerrard. Please look to your left. You will see a series of light. All are now dark except the first one, labeled one.”

Well, they were making this unnecessarily cumbersome. Did that voice have an English accent?

“When light number two turns orange, please put your right arm in the black cuff to your left. You will hold it there as lights three and four turn yellow and green. During that time, you may feel a small jab in your right hand. Do not worry. This is normal. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Might be a British accent. There a difference between English and British accents?

“Keep your arm in the cuff until light number five has turned blue. Do you understand?”

He felt like giggling. Shivered. Cold in this booth. “Yes.”

A chime sounded. The second light turned orange. The voice said, “Please insert your arm into the cuff now.”

Gerrard did. Sweat dribbled down his neck. Why? Wasn’t hot. The cuff closed on his arm. He couldn’t pull it out if he tried. Kind of wanted to try.

Light number three went yellow. Something jabbed his index finger hard. He flinched.

“Please do not move,” the voice said.

Embarrassment washed him. Hadn’t meant to move. He was surprised. That’s all. Harder jab than he expected.

Green light number for came on. Another chime. Same as the first. A blue light came on. “You may remove your arm.”

As he was pulling it out, flexing his fingers and looking for damages, the voice continued, “When the overhead door light turns green, you may exit the booth. Your gate is twenty-seven bee.”

As he looked at it, the booth light turned green and the voice intoned, “Follow the instructions to your gate. Thank you for Traveling with America First.”

“You’re welcome,” he muttered. Ahead was a sign. “Gerrard Miles, please turn left and follow the green line to gate twenty-seven b.” The green arrow pointed straight.

It was dark. Low lights. Cool. Like he was underground. Or in a movie theater. One of those huge complexes with big screens and small rooms. He followed as necessary, losing tracks about how many turns were made. Things he’d read always said this was the offsetting part, getting to your gate. Most deemed this the worse feature.

Gate 27 B was in green to his right. Others were there. About twenty-five. Another sign said, “Pittsburgh.”

A male voice said, “Welcome to gate twenty-seven bee and travel to Pittsburgh. We are ready to board. Please proceed to the door on your left.”

They all queued. He felt weird about it. No seats? No zones? Others were guffawing about it. Nervousness flowed around them like flooding waters. Only one woman, blonde, in a white coat, seemed comfortable. Seemed a little superior in her attitude, too. She’d done this before.

The gate was open. No one was there. A male said, “Please step into the gate when the light turns green.”

This was it. They made it seem like it wasn’t. This was it, though. They all knew it. All were deadly quiet. The blonde woman went. Was gone. The light shuffled forward. Sweat was drenching Gerrard. Like he’d been in a moonson.

He shuffled with the rest. Tenth. Ninth. Et cetera. Then him. Licked his lips. Coped with dryness at the back of his throat. And a dry tongue. Watched the light. Stepped forward.

The ground moved, sucking him forward. He almost screamed but there wasn’t time. The same voice said, “Please step forward. Welcome to Pittsburgh. The local time is five thirty-four. It’s a pleasant seventy-eight degrees outside. You can claim your baggage at carrousel number seventeen. Thank you for traveling with America First. We hope you have a good visit, whether you’re in Pittsburgh for business or vacation.

He walked forward, blinking against dazzling sunshine, his sweat drying, the ordeal over, into the international airport, looking for directions to baggage claim. He’d been at home two hours before. Home in Medford, Oregon. Now he was in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He’d gone over twenty-five hundred miles almost instantaneously. Like a bullet.

Fucking technology. He didn’t understand it but it was amazing.

0

The Mall Dream

A dysfunctional, post-apocalyptic world had arrive in the U.S. It wasn’t extreme. Shit had happened. Infrastructure and governments were failing, oil and gas were limited, food and water were scarce, and security was precious.

Somehow, I’d taken over a large mall.

I established myself as its ruler and then set up a society to live within it. I’d managed to make it secure, acquire food and drink, and we were generating power. Details aren’t available.

Friends of different times in my life heard of it. A large horde of them arrived as refugees. Everyone from childhood to the recent past were represented.

After greeting them outside on a sunny day, I took them in, assigning them spaces and familiarizing them with basic concepts: everyone works, no physical violence or abusive behavior, and respect one another. Break one of these, once, and you’re gone.

They quickly settled in. One favorite old friend, Don, became de facto representative of that particular group. He ended up hanging out with me a bit. They had suggestions for improvement. I thought them good and adopted the suggestions.

Meanwhile, I had two Mazda Miatas and gas for both. Both were green but different shades, with the new one being darker, almost forest green. I often drove the older one around. On this day, I decided to take the newer one for a ride. I invited Don along.

But first, I went around pissing on the mall floors. I pissed copiously, everywhere. I was then ready to go, but then regretted pissing everywhere. “I shouldn’t have done that,” I told Don. “I need to clean that up.”

Don, his cheerful, relaxed self, answered, “Don’t worry about it. We got you covered.” He pointed out there, where everyone was already mopping up my mess.

That’s where it ended.

0

The Jeopardy Dream

It started with Jeopardy. Alex Trebek was there. I was a contestant. The categories were all about me, like childhood injuries, places I’d lived, the names of former teachers and bosses, cars I’d owned. No other contestants were on the stage. I instead played against the people at home. Anyone could immediately buzz in, get recognized, and give the answer. They had to beat my buzzer, though.

I knew the answers. Easily winning, I was having a fun time. Then, reality: some part of me wondered, “Isn’t Alex Trebek dead? Why is he in my dream?” That blew it apart.

I went on to another dream. Back in the military, we were relocating from one place to another. The new place was in the middle of a building. It had desks and consoles but no walls. Everyone kept saying, “This isn’t secure.” I kept replying, “We have no choice. We didn’t make this decision. It was thrust on us.”

The move went along in starts and stumbles, with me and other command post personnel physically relocating things. At one point, someone ran in to inform us that a security incident was taking place. The security police were trying to reach us but no one was responding.

I dashed over to the new command post location. The security police hotline was ringing. I shouted out, “Who is on duty,” while hurrying to the phone. Miguel appeared, rushing to the phone and calling, “Oh, shit, I am.”

After he answered the phone, the dream moved to another phase. Not only had my work location changed, but so had my clothing and transportation. Myron was there to show me how to ride a bike. “It’s different, but you’ll catch on, don’t worry.” I wasn’t worried. Lots was happening, though, as I had to collect my clothes, find my place, take a shower, and then dress, and then ride away. The process of doing this was unwieldy and riddled with interruptions. I kept my focus, though I often had to stop to deal with something else.

Taking a shower had its own problems as the shower door wouldn’t stay closed, leaving me exposed to others’ prying eyes. After a bit of that, I shrugged it off: let them look. I’d picked out a light, short-sleeved blue-green shirt to wear. After I showered I found I had a shirt on, a polo style, light green. After a moment of thinking, I said, “Wait a minute, this isn’t what I selected.” I stumbled around, looking for the right shirt among my belongings. Finding it after a short search, I changed shirts.

The dream ended.

2

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