Tag: Jaguar

The White Jaguar Dream

First, I was working for a friend I used to work for, Laura. She was a terrific boss, perhaps the best I ever had. Certainly in the top three.

I was injured in the dream and forced to wear a cast on my left arm. It struck me as an unusual cast but I can’t provide any details. Encumbering me, it was forcing me to do things in unusual ways.

Laura was at her desk, watching and talking. I suddenly had a brainstorm about how the cast I wore could be modified to make it easier to deal with the limitations it imposed. Laura began talking about it a split second after the idea came to me. We both started babbling about with growing excitement. Calling me to her desk, she said, “Take out the notebook from the inside pocket on the left side of my jacket.” I did, and handing her the small brown book. She opened it to a blank page and started writing.

With a dream shift, I was now in line. I needed a new vehicle. Five people were ahead of me. A female cashier was helping us. I saw a white Jaguar convertible with a red interior. It seated four. I decided, that’s what I’m buying.

The cashier told the first person in line, “We don’t have any small cars left.” Then she called out to the rest of us, “Is anyone in line interested in any car besides a small car.”

Raising my hand, I responded, “I am. I’m buying that white Jaguar.”

The purchase was done with dream speed. As part of my purchase, I was given a model of the car. They went off to get it ready for me to drive away. I went to a coffee shop and purchased a cup of coffee in a paper cup with a plastic lid.

A hard wind was blowing. I needed to set my coffee down but worried about the wind blowing it over, even though I was in an office. I opened a file drawer and set the coffee in there, thinking that the drawer will protect it from the wind. Then I set the little white Jaguar on top of it.

The wind immediately blew the little car off the coffee cup lid. I wasn’t surprised. I said, “That’s exactly how I expected that to go.”

Dream end.

0

68

Sixty-eight has a good feel to it to me.

I’m 68 years old today. Well, if you believe the state’s official records, and Mom and Dad. Mom and Dad claim they were there. But you know, parents tell stories. Like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or that they walked ten miles through snow uphill to get to school every day. Who can believe them?

My phone and computer has been pinging with birthday wishes from friends around the world. That really makes my heart swell three times its normal size.

I’ve been looking forward to becoming sixty-eight. It’s because of cars. See, in 1968, when I was twelve, cars excited and interested me. At one point, I thought I’d become an adult and design cars. I drew them all the time. ’68 was the year I saw sporty performance Mustangs and Camaros, along with an actual XK-E Jaguar that someone parked in a neighbor’s driveway. So cool!

So 68 has a good feel for me. It’s exciting, full of energy and promise. I hope I can sustain that across 365 days, because I’m getting pretty excited about becoming 69. Wait till I tell you about it.

10

Broken-down Cars Dream

Let’s begin in the middle. As the dream seemed to do.

My wife and I were out somewhere. Broken down. Limited view of the setting, like, not important, but seemed like thin scrub brush, black asphalt road, and dry. Vehicle was a black sports car. Could have been a Jaguar XK-E or a Mazda RX-7. Its identity fluttered and shifted, always black, a sleek sports car, but different makes each time I looked at it.

Another man, in a faded yellow short sleeve short and torn blue jeans, was there, trying to go somewhere else. Seemed homeless, with little going for him.

Also present was a young woman, also with a broken-down vehicle, a sixties era white Volkswagen Beetle.

We needed parts and tools to fix the cars. I could get mine running. Plans were formed and tried. We couldn’t get all four people into my car. Should someone be left behind? Maybe her Beetle could fit into my car.

The VW’s body was removed. They tried fitting it in. Sort of got it in there but the consensus rose, that’s not going to work. We had to get it back out but it was wedged in tight. I told them, “Stand back. I got this.” I reached into the car, picked it up, and pulled it out using leverage. “Impressive,” everyone said. The woman said, “You’re really strong.” My wife said, “He’s always been weirdly strong.”

I decided, “This is what we’ll do. Leave the VW here. Get in my car. Go to the nearest town. Get the tools and parts needed, fix my car, then I’ll return and fix the other.” I finished, telling the woman, “You’ll go back with me to your car.” Everyone accepted the plan. I got into my car’s driver seat. Wife got into the passenger side. The car had a hatch. The other two got in there. We left the hatch open and drive the twenty something miles to town.

First, we met a group of other people. They needed help, rides, money, etc., to get elsewhere. For some reason, they thought my wife and I were there to help them. That surprised us, but we agreed we would.

Next, we decided we needed clothes, shirts and pants, and entered a crowded discount store. I found an orange pullover with green trim. After putting it on, my wife came up in a new shirt. “I went with a sports team on my shirt,” she said. “Looks like you went with something else.”

The others needing help were white haired, elderly, thin or thick, men and women. They followed me around. After raising the hood and fiddling, I announced that I’d fixed my car. Now the woman and I would go get her Volkswagen. The woman said that she would sell it after it was fixed and buy a larger vehicle. She and I got into my car and zipped away. Seconds later in dream time, I was back in town when she drove her VW in.

Dream end.

0

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.

1

A Riddle In A Dream

I had a dream in which I ended up wondering, while in the dream, if I’d dreamed what I was thinking. I’ve gone similar routes to this before, but this one ended up as a laugher to me.

I was racing at LeMans in a D type Jaguar. The race had just begun. My co-driver (name not given, never seen), had qualified us, putting us at the front of the grid (but not pole). I was starting the race for the team. I managed a great start, and was battling for the lead.

From my point of view in the open cockpit, another driver and I raced our cars down a long straight, engines screaming, car shaking and vibrating around me. Taking the car to the absolute limit, holding it there, I edged my car’s nose ahead past a competitor on my right.

Now for a surreal bit. There was a small, bright green, bean bag hanging to the left along the straight. Whoever reached the bag and pulled it down was the leader of the first lap. I raced toward it, pulling ahead of the other car. Veering left, I threw my hand up and caught the bean bag.

Wasn’t over, though. We were hurtling toward the final corner. My competition wasn’t making it easy for me. They were holding back to brake at the last second; they also had the inside line, the true racing line. Coming up on the corner, I counseled myself, “Wait, wait,” watching the competitor. When he finally braked I told myself, “Now, brake, downshift, turn.”

I guided the car into the turn. Teetering on the edge of cohesion, the car progressed through the long righthander. Then I was through, in the lead, leading the first lap of LeMans. Jubilation roared through me as crowds cheered me on.

Then, as the segment ended, I pulled into victory lane.

I’d won the race.

Still in the dream, I was stunned. I’d won LeMans. As it was a D type Jag, that was in the fifties. Sitting before my computer, I searched on “Seidel Wins LeMans”.

Then, I thought, hold on. I couldn’t have won LeMans in the fifties; I wasn’t born until 1956.

And in the dream, I wondered, did I dream that? It seemed so real.

As I was about to tell this to my wife, she brought a tall white man and his daughter into the room. I was like, “Excuse me, WTF, who are they, why are they are?” My wife brushed aside my questions.

The child went to play. The man joined me. Reading a newspaper on the desk beside me, he scoffed. “Mansfield is in trouble.” He scoffed again. “I’ve seen this happen before.” He blithered on about some other companies who’d been in trouble. “They’re going to need help. Search for Mansfield and help.”

I did as he directed. I was only typing with one hand, however, and kept screwing up the search. Then, dream shift, I’m in a writing class with other students. The instructor is telling us about four elements. I’m taking notes.

A man comes in and calls my name. He wants to know if I’m okay. “Yes, fine,” I reply, puzzled. The teacher tells the man that I seem fine, why is he interrupting the class to check on me.

“Because he sent a message that said ‘help’ on a computer,” the man replied. “We received his message.”

Realization rising about what happened, laughter spilled out of me. I explained that I’d been trying to do a search on Mansfield needing help but kept screwing up.

Two other men, stocky, with crew cuts, in suits, solemnly brought stacks of books to me. “What are these?” I asked.

“Help books,” one man replied. “You sent so many messages for help, we thought you could use these books for help.”

End dream.

0

A Jag Dream

Back into cars for last night’s dream. This car didn’t belong to me, but to a late uncle. He never owned a car like this, to my knowledge.

The car was a silver 1967 Jaguar E-type roadster. Calling it silver, I want to stipulate that it was so bright and polished, it seemed almost chromium. Absolutely stunning.

I was agog over it in the dream, where I was a young man in my late teens. He’d given me the honor of cleaning it and I did a damn thorough job. Afterwards, I proudly showed him what I’d done, opening the doors, bonnet, and trunk to display my results. He was duly impressed. After I returned his keys to him, he returned them to me. Turning away, he tossed a walk off: “Why don’t you take it for a drive.” Delighted and incredulous, I replied, “Are you serious?”

“Sure,” he answered. “You earned it.”

(I couldn’t find a photo of a silver Jag roadster, and none could be as silver as the one in my dream. Sorry, but this will need to suffice to show what kind of car it was.)

0

Dream Slices

To say that I didn’t have dreams last night isn’t correct. Nor is it correct to say that I don’t remember them. More correctly, I don’t have sharp, coherent memories of them.

I have slices of remembered dreams. One involved cars. I’d gotten out of one car. We’re at like a busy outdoor fair. Someone had been driving me. Another couple arrived in a car. I notice it, a convertible. They have the top retracted. A man I meet says something about it being a special car. Someone else asked why. I replied, “It’s an expensive car, a Maserati, isn’t it?” The man replied, “Very good, you noticed. You know your cars.”

I’m then off to be driven away again. I comment that the car that I was in was a Jaguar. “I’ve looked into buying one,” I said to the driver. He’s become quiet. I wonder why. He was smiling and talkative before. When we walk around the car, I discover that the car I’m to enter is a glistening black Mercedes stretch limo. Then, taking a more focused look, I realize that it’s extremely long, maybe forty feet. I then realize that’s probably why the driver became quiet. How did I mix up a Jaguar with a Mercedes stretch limo?

In another slice, I want to order a beer. That beer isn’t available; “Only one kind of beer is available here,” I’m told. “I know, I know,” I reply, accepting an opened bottle of that beer.

Then there is a bizarre sequence involving a water spray, lush green grass, a water sprinkler, and a hose. I’m soaked. I have both ends of the hose, one in each hand; it seems like I’m holding both of those ends up to keep the sprinkler from running so that the giant water spray can do its job. I don’t know what its job is now, although I knew in the dream.

Altogether, it seemed like a lot of unfocused chaos. Maybe that’s because I don’t remember enough, or maybe it was just chaos. Seems odd that three different makes of cars were seen, but all of them were foreign luxury cars, one Italian, one German, and one English.

0

Friday’s Theme Music

There I was in my Jaguar. A gleaming dark blue roadster, the top was up. Looked like a series one. Not sure, because it was part of the dreamscape. The rest of the dream included a sequence in which a woman and I trick one another into not marrying, then realizing at the end that each had the same goal in mind — not to marry the other — and agreed it was for the best.

After that dream, today’s song choice began playing in my mind. “Young Turks” by Rod Stewart was released in 1981. The sound had shifted from previous Stewart offerings as a solo act and as part of a band, but it worked. Although it peaked at number five in the U.S., it hit number one in other places, and generally charted well around the world. Bottom lining it, the song is pretty well known among people of a certain age.

Hope you enjoy it. Stay positive, test negative, and wear a mask. Cheers

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑