Tag: leadership

The Disasters Dream

Sunshine blazed down from a cloudless blue sky. I was arriving at a busy site ensconced in a valley’s flat green floor, either a fair or festival, I realized. Laughing and happy folks were everywhere. Waving to me, my wife and her sister called me over to their group, introducing me to others and then explaining in turns, “This is the Father Festival. You’ve never been to one? It’s put on every year. Free food, games, and prizes. There’s music and dancing later. Have a drink.”

Taking this in, I looked around and saw fathers of childhood friends and male teachers circulating, instructing, ordering. No, I’d never heard of this, but I participated.

Then, dream shift. The festival was nearing its end. A mountain hid the sun. Though the sky seemed clear, it was much suddenly much colder as shadows cloaked us and the light faded.

I’d been traveling and decided I wanted to change clothes. A group of us found a motel and got rooms. Entering one, I asked the others to leave the room so I could wash up and change. Talking and laughing forced me to raise my voice. “Will you all get out so I can change?” Laughing, mocking me, they finally acquiesced.

I found my long-sleeved blue shirt. That’s the one I wanted to wear. Just as I stepped toward the bathroom, the building shook. In another second, people yelled in shrill voices, “Earthquake.” Sirens rose.

A man broke into the room. “There’s a tsunami warning. We need to leave and get up the mountain.”

Dressing in my blue shirt as I left the room, I joined my wife, her sister, and a small group of people. “Come on, we need to go,” I said. “This way. We’re going up the mountain.”

We fell in with a queue of people also trying to get up the mountain. Peering ahead, I saw fire up on the mountain’s upper side. Pulling my group aside, I said, “It’s on fire up there. Come on. Follow me. This way. Don’t tell the others yet. There’s going to be a panic, and then getting away will be a problem.”

I led the rest along a narrow mountainside path that was going up. I heard them yelling behind us as they discovered the fire. People were re-directed to follow me.

Stinging black smoke descended down on us. Bending low, covering my mouth and nose with a mask, I told everyone else to do the same. We hurried on along the path.

Then I came up short as I rounded a curve. The quake had opened a wide and deep crevice, and our path was gone, along with a chunk of mountainside. There was nowhere to go but back, but back wasn’t safe because the fire was engulfing where we’d been.

Dream end.

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The All-Male Dream

To begin, we were in a huge, pale gray auditorium. A long and low empty stage, softly lit with white light, is across the front. The seating is set up in blocks that are thirty wide and twenty deep. The blocks were three wide across the auditorium but I don’t know how many blocks it went back. Every seat was being filled. Filling it were men of all races, but of about the same age range, in our mid-thirties. All are dressed neat, in business casual. I wore black jeans and a long sleeve maroon dress shirt. We were excited and happy because we’d finished a course and were graduating. Seating myself in the third from last row in the middle front block, ten seats in from the left, I was impressed by the event’s sheer magnitude.

We’d seated ourselves, quieted, and were waiting for the speaker to arrive and begin when an argument emerges between two men. They’re out in one of the broad aisles between the blocks. I know both of them in the dream, though they weren’t familiar from RL. As the argument rose, it appeared it was going to escalate into a fight. I went out there and separated them, talking them down from fighting and arguing, encouraging them to return to their seats.

I returned to my seat and sat. The speaker, a man in a suit, came on stage and began talking. He surprised me by mentioning my name and citing me for my leadership. I was hugely surprised, flattered, and embarrassed — I always prefer to avoid attention.

Then, in a dreamshift, the ceremony is over. I get into a car with my father. The car is a gold sixties muscle car with a black vinyl top, chrome wheels, and chrome straight pipes. I don’t know the make or model but it was a two door. It remined me of a GM product, maybe a Chevelle.

Dad is driving. We’re going to another event. We’re on a divided highway, four lanes in either direction. Dad is driving fast, which doesn’t bother me — he and I always drive fast. The highway twists and turns, rising and falling as it follows the land, but we’re driving through a city.

We come up on another car in the left land. The car looks almost identical to the one we’re in. As I’m commenting on that, Dad pulls up close on the other car. The driver applies his brakes. That infuriates Dad. The other driver is pissed but moves right to let us pass. I note to Dad that the guy — a younger driver, who has rolled his window down and is shaking his fist — is angry. Dad says it’s because we’re faster.

As we go to pass this guy, we find our way blocked by a stopped brown UPS truck. As Dad goes to drive around it, we see head on traffic coming. We’re astonished; why is there traffic coming from the other direction? Then, I look and see that we’re on the wrong side of the highway. But how did that happen? It’s not possible because there is a cement barrier dividing the two directions.

A pause in traffic goes. We go around the stopped truck. Looking back, I see other cars following us.

A dreamshift brings me into a large courtroom. I’ve been empaneled as part of a jury. There are only men present. I’ve been accepted as a juror after passing an oral examination. Others are being questioned. It’s a festive atmosphere. I realize that I’m there to judge entries and award prizes.

Dream end.

4

A Chaos Dream

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.

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The Beard Dream

The weirdest damn dream. Well, dreams tend to be. At least in my world.

I was looking into a mirror. There was my gorgeous younger self (hah!) looking back. Mustache and goatee in place. Dark brown, almost black, because I was young.

My beard grew. Came in nicely along my jaw line. I admired it in the mirror. I liked that mirror. Then it crept up my cheeks and down my neck, growing fuller but remaining dark. Still liked it. But was chuckling. I could never grew a beard that full. Always rued that shortcoming.

The beard’s downward creep stopped at the bottom of my neck. Its upward growth continued. My mouth was bearded over. Then my nostrils. It covered my cheeks up to my eyes.

I was laughing. Looks like I need to trim my beard around my nose and mouth, I told myself. No one could see either of them.

Dream end.

As a bonus, another short dream followed. Short as a webisode of a net series, if you catch my meaning.

I was in a fighting style clothing such as what the Saxons wore around 1,000 A.D. (or common era), if my television history is correct. Standing out there by myself, with water, like canals, on either side, others approached me. Asked if I would take over. Don’t know what it was I was taking over. I guess I knew in my dream.

Anyway, I declined. They walked away. I basically stayed where I was. Twice more, they approached and I declined. The fourth time, I accepted. I said, okay, I’ll do it. I’ll lead.

Dream end.

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