So Many Dreams

One of the dream snippets that punctuated today’s conscious film was about soldiers and jaguars.

My wife and I were walking through a green park. We’re looking to the right where large men dressed in military field uniforms are gathered. It’s not a large contingent. They’re behind a sort of flimsy barricade made of aluminum or some other light material. We’re trying to figure out what they’re doing over there. As we slow and watch, we realize there are jaguars among the soldiers. I’m talking the feline beast. Some of these are large adults. Most of the jaguars are dressed in little jackets around their torsos. These jackets are either turquoise and gold, or purple and gold. The jaguars are on leashes. The soldiers hold the leashes.

We — my wife and I — are saying, “What on Earth?” Why would the military have jaguars? Why are the animals dressed like that? Neither of us have ever heard or seen anything like it. As we’re slowly resuming our walk through the park, but still watching, a jaguar breaks free of the enclosure and handler and rushes toward us. This jaguar is young, though. Small and cute, like a kitten the size of a Maine coon cat. A leash trails behind it. It hurries toward us as we stop and bend toward it, smiling and laughing because it’s so cute. As it gets closer, it becomes confused and wary. Slowing, the animal pauses, then thinks about going in another direction. Meanwhile, a large black soldier, grinning and laughing, jogs up, apologizing about his new cat getting away from him.

Dream end.

A Hotel Dream

Wife and I were staying in a huge hotel. We were up high, although I don’t know the floor. Red and gold were the only colors used, except for white marble floors in the hallways, which were tall — about two stories — and twenty feet wide. Walls were gold. Lots of tall, gold-framed mirrors and windows. Carpet, drapes, and furniture were red. Quite opulent. Because the place was so tall and sprawling, cafes and stores were on multiple levels.

Going into one upper-floor cafe, I encountered two young men in uniforms. I assumed they were military. Said as much. They issued me a dark, mocking look. One said, “We’re not military. We’re MOAB.” Like I was stupid.

I didn’t know what MOAB was. Assumed it was a quasi military-national guard or reserve situation. I left the two young men for a table. My wife joined me. I told her about my convo with the men. She was like, yeah, they’re MOAB, like everyone knows that. Then explained to me other people that she knew were MOAB, including two sons of our elderly friend. I was stunned that I was so ignorant.

She went off to the room with plans for me to come back to the room to go to a farmer’s market. I stayed, surfing the net and typing on my laptop. Two young men entered. About thirty years old, white. Both looked like Matthew Mcconaughey although their blonde hair was cut in different styles. I considered approaching them to tell them that I knew their mother and confirm they were MOAB but decided against it and left the cafe.

I then spent time roaming the hotel. Its center was an open atrium. You could look down the well and see all the floors, along with the lobby at the bottom. The fourth floor was where the hotel intersected with surface streets. Several of the hotel interior corners were intersections with traffic lights. That floor was also where the hotel mall was located.

I couldn’t figure out how to get from floor to floor, so I began hanging over rails and dropping down, or jumping from floor to floor. I was going to my hotel room to meet my wife but became sidetracked exploring. At one point, I was standing in an empty, carpeted area. I was surprised; it seemed to be the back of a restaurant in the hotel but the decor was different — white walls, low lights, umber carpeting. A shipment arrived for the restaurant. Men began picking up items and putting them away. One pile was off to one side. The manager, a tall, dark individual who appeared Asian glanced at me and said, “What are you doing? Let’s go. Get everything put away.”

I picked up the supplies and went around, trying to learn where everything goes. Another arrived and asked me what I was doing because that was his job. I explained that I was putting things away but first I needed to learn where they go. He took the supplies from me with a disdainful look and head shake.

I left there, sliding down a rail and then jumping off the end to another level. People witnessing this were impressed, loudly saying, did you see what he did? Stopping, I realized that I was late to meet my wife. I then saw her with two friends. They were on the fourth level and walking toward the friends’ car. I realized that she must have become tired of waiting and was leaving for the market.

I rushed to get down to the fourth floor but I was up on the sixteenth floor. I decided that jumping wasn’t going to work and raced about, trying to find elevators and escalators. Looking down, I saw their car pull into traffic and leave the hotel.

I thought that I needed to call my wife and tell her that I’d meet her at the market. Then I couldn’t find my phone.

Dream end.

The Nineteenth Game Dream

I was introduced to a game. I’m not strong on remembering details, but coins were involved. These coins were copper, brass, and gold. They had patterns cut into them. The game was about matching and stacking coins in precise patterns. As each pattern was completed, the player advanced to the next game, which offered more complexities. The nineteenth game was the hardest game level.

Playing the game soon absorbed me. I played alone under a light, on a table. Sitting, bent over the table, I examined the pieces, selected the stacks and positions, arranged them, re-arranging them as necessary. If you had a piece wrong, the game ended. You had to follow a predestined set of arrangements.

I finally screwed up. A buzzer announced that I’d lost the game. Lights came up. A man entered. He informed me that I was playing the nineteenth game. Surprising news for me. He went on to say I was very close to finishing it, which pleased me, and then informed me that I was the only one left playing at that level. With those circumstances, they’d been streaming my play globally for the last twenty-four hours. Everyone was watching, cheering me on, hoping that I would win.

The experience left me happy but eager to begin again to reach and finish the nineteenth game.

A Dream of Opportunity

Just a short synopsis of one dream from last night.

Another uplifting dream, I was traveling to Phoenix. I assumed Arizona in the dream but then realized that wasn’t right. This intermittently confused me as things progressed; if it wasn’t Phoenix, AZ, where was it? It wasn’t Phoenix, Oregon, either.

While traveling, I met a very wealthy man, a billionaire, in fact. White and charming, he was about my age, very approachable, and looked almost like Robert Wagner in his role on television as Jonathan Hart. A developer, he was planning changes to Phoenix, and was sharing his ideas with me. Those ideas excited me. When I reached Phoenix, he offered to put me up in his suite. When I entered it, I wasn’t impressed with its size. It was a luxurious place, but I was underwhelmed. Then I realized that I had my own suite within his complex of suites. It was about the same size as his suite. Further, I’d only been in one section; his suite was about three times my original impression.

For some reason, based on things he was saying, I kept trying to associate him with Williams Grand Prix Engineering, a Formula 1 focused outfit. Then, as I checked out the suite I was offered, I realized the color scheme was a rich purple and green, not the colors I associate with Williams Grand Prix Engineering. Then again, the colors I was associating with them, blue, gold, and white, were actually the colors used when Rothmans (a defunct British tobacco company) sponsored Williams in F1 for just a few years in the 1990s.

Getting ready to meet with friends, I was discussing my plans to return home after my Phoenix visit with him. He asked where I was going, and after I replied, he said, “Oh, I’m going there, too. You can travel with me.” After a little back and forth, I realized he meant that he was traveling on a private jet and was offering me a free flight. Pleased, excited, and a little flattered, I accepted. Meeting with friends, I told them about it. I had a sense then that some tremendous opportunity was suddenly available.

Dream end.

Friday’s Theme Music

Not much thought to today’s choice. (Like there’s ever much thought behind my song choices, right? Right.)

Cats aren’t involved in this one. My dreams are. Multiple dreams, all very uplifting. In one, a man gave me a bag, telling me, “These are for you.” Inside were gold coins. Must’ve been hundreds, and all shone like Coronado’s gold. I was so happy and pleased and excited. “Why did you give me this?” I asked the man, but he was gone. Another guy came up, though, and surprised me with a gift of gold ingots. It blew me away. “Oh my God, what I can do to help the world with this.” My head was spinning.

But it wasn’t over, as another arrived with gold jewelry. Without saying a word, he put it in my bag. Gaping as I took it in, I said, “I have gold coins, ingots, and jewelry in this bag.” He answered, “Yes, you have it all.”

See what I mean about uplifting?

So, puttering into the morning, feeding the three fur beasts and dressing, I hummed a remembered song that drifted into awareness. It turned out to be “Ventura Highway” by America from 1975.

Ventura Highway in the sunshine
Where the days are longer
The nights are stronger than moonshine
You’re gonna go
I know-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh-uh-oh
‘Cause the free wind is blowing through your hair
And the days surround your daylight there
Seasons crying no despair
Alligator lizards in the air, in the air

h/t to Genius.com

Those lines are uplifting to me, like my hopes.

Like my dreams.

Licorice & Coin Dream

I was taking a class in something somewhere, and hanging out with relative strangers. During lunch break, I sat with some, looking at my schedule and talking with them. As I delved into the schedule, I scrolled down and discovered a hidden section. Using sorting options, I gradually realized that it was the future.

After checking out my future and listening to others, I began telling them their future. “How do you know that?” several asked.

I told them what I’d found and began showing them how to do it themselves. Most struggled with it, though.

It was lunch time and I still hadn’t eaten. A bunch of us went walking to find food. It seemed like we walked through an outdoor mall. Food options were there but they were expensive and time-consuming, and none appealed to me. I complained, nostalgically remembering when I’d take college classes in the military and run into the exchange to buy a two-dollar cheeseburger.

We came to a dusty little shop. I entered with a few others. Still looking for something to eat, I found a bag of licorice for two dollars. Not nutritious, but I could share it with others, was cheap, and would stave off my immediate hunger.

As I was buying, I realized that taxes would make it $2.01. Looking for a penny and asking others if they had a penny so I could avoid getting ninety-nine cents in change, I found a huge gold coin on the floor. I thought at first it could be a shiny new penny, but it was two big, and it was gold, not copper. Picking it up, I examined it. Besides being gold, it had copper segment in it. About the size of a silver dollar, a geometric design surrounded the best of a man, and an unrecognized language.

I concluded that it was token, not a coin. Holding it up to the shopkeeper, I asked with some cheek, “Can I use this?” In good humor, he replied, “I’ll take it off your hands.” Something about how he said it made me think it was worth more than I was assigning it. I asked him what it was, but he never answered. My transaction was finished. I opened the bag of licorice and offered some to others.

The dream ended.

The Gold Dream

I was in a house that felt familiar, like something built in the seventies, two stories or more. The bottom story is a garage.

I’m a spectator off to one side, watching this dream. The dream begins with me standing in a room, looking at the clock, and saying, “It’s time to go.” I know that it’s very early, dark, and rainy. The others are up. They’re ready to go, waiting, like me, for the moment. We didn’t want to go too early, but it’s something that we all need to go and do.

Several of the others are my sisters. One is a brother-in-law. Others are not recognized as anyone from my life but I know that they’re more family. There are eight of us.

After I make my announcement, I go downstairs to the garage to wait. Down there, I see water pouring in from the garage’s ceiling. That’s not good, I know, wondering where it’s coming from. It’s an impressive amount. Although not consistent, it seems like the strength and volume available from a garden house.

I’m impatient to leave and call back upstairs to the others to come on. There said they were ready, so why is there now a delay? My brother-in-law comes down first. I point out the water and tell him that we’ll need to check that out later. He agrees, and we speculate about where it could be coming from.

The others come down. The garage door is opened. We go out into the rain. Crossing the dark street, we come to a field. The ground is sodden. I walk forward and find eight markers. They look like brass grave markers with raised letters. They have our names on them.

I find mine. Rain water is collecting on it. The others are talking about what they’re supposed to do. They don’t know.

I think I know what I’m supposed to do. I get down on my hands and knees in the soaked, muddy ground, and put my head on the marker. After I do that, I draw back to confirm that something is going on with the marker and see that a red dotted circle has formed on the marker. It spirals around and around and then goes green.

I tell the others that they need to lay down prone on the ground and put their foreheads on the markers. They don’t want to because of the rain, water, and mud. I tell them, “We can’t go until we’re all in position.” Reluctantly, they get down.

I watch each, confirming that their grave markers show the red dotted circles. I expect them to turn to green. My sister’s circle doesn’t turn. I tell her that she needs to put her head on her marker. She complains but does it. The light goes green. We disappear.

We end up at a complex series of highways, bridges, and tunnels. I’m in Pittsburgh, PA, but it doesn’t look like the Pittsburgh that I know, except we’re at the point, where the Ohio forms from the other two. We’re looking for a VA complex. Nobody knows where it’s at, so we walk around, trying to find it. It’s exasperating.

I talk to the others about the roads, bridges, and tunnels. Suddenly, I’m very knowledgeable. I tell the others about a similar place of roads, bridges, and tunnels, and how they found gold. Since it’s so similar, we can probably find gold here, too, I tell them. That gets them all excited. We begin walking around, looking for gold.

I break away from the group. Turning and looking out, I see a green vale. Gold nuggets dot its sides.

“There,” I say to the others. They come over. I point. “There it is.” I smile at them. “I found the gold.”

 

The View Dream

For this dream’s beginning, I was with a large gathering for a dinner in a big banquet room. The dinner wasn’t formal although the round tables were all covered with white table cloths, china, crystal glasses, and silverware. Everyone was dressed informally in jeans or slacks. I knew many people there as friends. I wasn’t staying, though.

Just before leaving, I happened to look out a window. We were in either a high-building or a place on a high hill. I don’t know which. I chanced to go by a window. The window provided a gorgeous panoramic view of a bay with bridges. Calm indigo waters filled the bay under a perfect azure sky.

I raised the blinds to more fully see the scene, and then called to some of my friends, telling them to come see the view. Several came. We looked out on the sun-blessed world and remarked on the tranquil, peaceful curative that the scene provided.

I left.

I headed out across some fills and found myself traveling in parallel to a column of brawny men. Their garb suggested something out of an age one thousand years before. From what I gathered, they were planning some picnic or festival. Sometimes they chanted.

Encountering a man walking the other way, he asked me about where we were going, and why I wasn’t dressed like the rest. I told him with a smile that I was part of that group and that I didn’t know who they were or where they were going. I smiled as I said this, and then waved at the men, who seemed to have been following my conversation with the stranger. As I finished speaking, I said, “This is my turn,” and turned onto a path that ran perpendicular to their travels.

I followed the run through a field of short, tarnished gold grasses and came to an asphalt street. It was far from the intersection where you’re supposed to cross. A few others were talking about crossing the road but were unsure how to go about it. They began resigning themselves to going to the intersection so they could safely and legally cross.

I, though, decided that I’d chance it there. No vehicles were coming and the visibility was good, so why not? After crossing and reaching the other shoulder, I noticed that others had crossed with me. Then I saw a pair of police officers walking down the shoulder toward me. I suspected that they were going to ticket me or make a big deal about what I’d done but I decided that I didn’t care. I knew where I was going and didn’t want to be delayed.

Finding another sketchy path, I continued on my through another field of tarnished golden grasses.

The dream ended.

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