I was in an ocean with others. Waves bobbed, moving me, but the water rose to my chest and I was standing on the sea floor. We were all waiting to hear if we were released by our company. We were all almost certain we were, so we were eager for a new position somewhere.
I’d learned of an opening and applaud, writing up a small resume of my skills and experience. The water shifted into a large room. People were at workstations, busy with their tasks. I’d never worked in an environment like that, I thought. Always had at least a cubicle but mostly had an office. Someone from the potential new company said, “We’ve set up a mock up of the new position workstation.” We all went up to take a look.
The station looked like a toy. Small green desk, tiny green chair, hardback, with a cushioned seat, and a small task lamp. A man was asleep beside it. No computer or phone. Someone asked if there would be a computer provided. “No,” was the answer given, “computers aren’t needed for this position.”
Disappointment roiled through me. I knew, I’m not getting that position. After soaking in that for a few minutes, I learned that I didn’t get the position. I also learned of friends and co-workers and their positions. I decided I would appeal to them. See if they could put in a word for me, knew of an opening, or hire me as their assistant.
My wife and I had been traveling together but stopping to stay in a town, I went off on my own to visit with friends.
Now I was returning at dawn. I was staggering with exhaustion, having been up all night driving and walking.
I was a little lost. Things looked somewhat familiar but each turn had me pause to frown and figure out where to go.
At last I was in a little blue car. I came out a parking lot and began turning right. A huge red pickup truck went by, just missing me. A second came by and almost hit with both of us swerving at the same time. Both of those vehicles had been on the wrong side of the road. Quick as that, as I’m cursing the other drivers, I remember, this is a one-way street, and it goes that-away. I snap the wheel around to go in the right way, grateful there weren’t more cars coming because that could have been disastrous. Parking behind the two trucks, who simply pulled off, I walk up to apologize to the drivers. The second truck’s driver is a large elderly man, a white fellow with short silver hair, wearing a light blue short-sleeved flannel shirt. He’s walking up to the red truck. Its windows are all blacked out. I can’t see its driver.
I shrug off apologizing. I’ve reached the hotel where my wife and I are staying. I traverse a little alley and enter the rear of an aircraft to cut through to the hotel. People have spread mattresses and blankets across the aisles, and they’re sleeping. There’s also a huge Great Dane sleeping under one blanket. It wakes, sees me, and gets up and moves out of my way. The sleeping people and another little dog, small and white, awaken and see me, and laugh at the situation. I carefully get up on the mattresses and pick my way to the other end of the plane, out and into the lobby.
It’s a light blue lobby, with a coffee shop to one side. A middle-aged dark-haired woman with short black hair and brown hair greets me. I’m exhausted. I ask for coffee and then go to use the restroom. In there, I see myself in the mirror. My hair is dark brown, full and thick, matching my beard and mustache. I look like a wildman who just returned from living in the jungle. I’m wearing pale blue shorts. They’re not mine. I check my pockets for my wallet; it’s there. Finding a brush, I style my hair, beard, and mustache. That instantly transforms me into a really good-looking guy.
Okay, back out at the counter, light blue Formica, I find a glass mug. It has thin brown fluid in it, which might be weak tea, along with ice and a lemon. I sip some as a woman comes up. I realize it must be hers and apologize for drinking her drink but figure, I’ll continue, since I started. I ask for coffee to add to it.
Leaving there, I head for my room. It’s either 126 or 124. I can’t remember and chastise myself for not asking at the desk. The rooms are like little cottages but they’re stacked side by side.
I pull a key out of my pocket. It’s a bizarre skeleton key. I have no idea what it’ll fit, but it’s not a room key. It has a square, almost baroque wire design, with a short skinny portion for the lock. WTH? I have no idea where it came from so I return it to my pocket and then continue to look for the room where we’re staying.
I dreamed I was with a bunch of people. All were nice, and seemed like friends, although nobody was recognized from real life. Some kind of outdoor function, we were socializing after eating when a man arrived. He was identified as Colonel Campbell, stealth-aircraft fighter pilot.
All of us were impressed. Pilots are one category, fighters are another, and stealth is the bleeding edge techno. He sat at a table and we gathered around to eye him. Evening was on us so I decided it was time to leave.
A dream shift found me in a Starbucks coffee shop. Busy, the place was a labyrinth of rooms, all with white walls or stone walls. Some rooms were large, where dream catchers, turquoise and silver jewelry, and black feathers were on sale. Others were rooms with tables where people could sit, drink coffee, and chat. A few halls and bathrooms finished the setup.
I got a coffee and went through the rooms until I found a table. Dissatisfied with it because I thought it too noisy and busy, I moved to another table. I eyed people as I sipped coffee. The employees interested me the most. They were familiars in the dream although again no one known in RL.
Finishing my coffee, I decided to leave, but struggled to find the exit. Each room seemed to take me into another one. In one room, I found the Starbucks employees preparing to start a celebration. They fell silent and waited for me to leave before resuming their festivities. I heard several of them say something about me but I wasn’t sure what they said. It sounded like they liked me and wished more customers were like me.
But I’d gone on. Just as I thought I’d found the exit, I realized that I’d lost my shoes. I’d been wearing sandals, I remembered, and thought that I must have kicked them off to be more comfortable. Rushing about, I tried retracing my steps to find the table where I’d been. Dodging people was required, and I almost stepped in someone’s chocolate cake, jumping over it just in time. I also had to swivel to avoid knocking over children.
Eventually I came into a room where a man was sitting at a booth. People were whispering, he’s a pilot. I approached him and asked, what does he fly? What’s his name? I wasn’t certain it was Colonel Campbell.
He wouldn’t really answer me or look at me. Announcing, “I have to go,” he leaped out of the booth and then crouched down and duckwalked out, stopping to look at toys on the floor. Catching up with him, I asked if he was okay, as another man approached to check on him. I told the other man that who I though the man was. This explanation put a silly grin on Campbell’s face (I was pretty sure it was him by then). His eyes were glassy and he started acting flighty (sorry for the pun).
Still trying to find my shoes, I went into a bathroom. Seeing my reflection, I was stopped short by how my face had changed. I knew it was me but I didn’t recognize myself. My face was large and squared off, with a towering forehead. I speculated that the mirror was distorted but saw that everything else was properly reflected.
My final thought was that I’d done something to myself.
This was another military dream but, with twists to it that made the military component less significant.
So, yeah, in the military, young again, running a command post, killing time. I’m waiting for something to happen, so I start going through the daily logs. First, I’m superintendent and I’m expected to review and initial the logs each day. Second, the logs should reflect what checklist actions have been taken by the controllers on duty. I want to ensure they’re doing their jobs as expected when I’m not around.
I go through a bit of that, making comments. The command post is lightly busy around me, slower than a typical day, with people calling in on the radios and the telephones ringing and being answered. My mood is buoyant; whatever I’m waiting to have happen has me hopeful and excited, full of anticipation. Going through personnel rosters, I note that we’ve lost several people, which lowers the assigned total to perfectly fit all needs. That delights me to bizarre levels. Every position filled, and no one left for me to ‘find a job’ for them. Great. I go through the names, recognizing people who worked for me before, and then do a casual audit of the communication security code books on hand, ensuring they’re being properly maintained. Everything is in perfect order!
I’m abruptly changed into civilian clothes, which surprises me, but it’s a good thing, I decide, ala Martha Stewart. Then I’m looking for my dogs. I should have three. (NOTE: In RL, I’ve never owned a dog.) I find one of them. I recall the second one passed away, which saddens me. But the third, a small black Yorkie in my mind, should be there.
I begin walking around the command post, looking for the missing black dog. As I do, others question me about what I’m doing. They don’t seem to be able to comprehend my answers. As I’m responding and still looking, I see the dog bounding down a small ravine. Well, there he is, I think, happy to know that, and going after him.
I leave the command post but can’t find the ravine. I know that’s where the dog, so how do I get there? The dream ends as I’m turning in circles, trying to understand where to go to reach the dog…
I dreamed of Grandma Kitty, Grandpa Paul, and Grandma McCune (who was my great grandmother, but was called Grandma McCune). All have passed away at least four decades ago.
In my dream, I was a young man in a city. I wandered about, looking for food and exploring places. The city, packed with small concrete buildings abutting one another, had many narrow alleys and roads. I explored to sate my curiosity about what the city held, peeking in throug windows, entering buildings, and walking through rooms.
Eventually I went into a large house. This belonged to my family. Large rooms with golden pillars. Pale gold walls, white ceilings, soft, low golden light, and deep red carpeting. A mansion, I realized with surprise, that belonged to my family. I had not realized their wealth, I thought in the dream, because in RL there wasn’t such wealth. The family was solid middle class.
People were busy with activities when I entered. I was now a teenager. It wasn’t many people and seemed to be family. I don’t know what they were doing. As I walked through, taking it all in, I saw Grandpa Paul, just as he was when I last saw him, smile, and turn away. As I went on, I spied the back of Grandma Kitty bustling around a large kitchen area. Grandma McCune (a tiny, thin woman, barely taller than me whenI was a little boy) passed and gave me a meek wave and a small smile, as she always did (she passed when I was five or so).
What next transpired is muddled. I ended up learning from Grandma Kitty that I would not receive Grandma McCune’s legacy unless I told her that I love her, because she was upset with me. I knew that she was due to pass on. I tried approaching Grandma McCune but then returned to Grandma Kitty. I told her, “I don’t know how to tell Grandma McCune that I love her.” When I spoke, I’d begun sobbing. Grandma Kitty took me in her arms and hugged me with a smile, telling me, “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright. She knows.”
I left and wandered the city. I was trying to return to where I was before. I thought I knew the way sufficiently that a shortcut was warranted. But when I entered the space, I realized that I didn’t have a mask. Exiting, I walked along a broken drainage ditch, thinking about how to get a mask, trying to remember where I’d left it. I decided that I’d sneak in one way and try to get back to my place. Thinking I knew the right door, I entered a pink hovel.
Inside were several men in a small, dark room. I nodded at them as I passed through. Reaching the other side, I opened the door. I expected to leave; instead, it was a tiny bathroom occupied by a man taking a piss.
I backed away and shut the door. Certain that I’d passed through here before and that I could return to where I had been, I walked around, hunting for another door. None were there. There was only the one, to the bathroom.
The man using it exited. I entered the bathroom and searched for a secret door. I didn’t find one. Yet, I remained confident that I was right.
I stepped back out to the other room. Four men were still there, older, bearded, sitting. I stood in the room’s center, thinking. I decided that I would wait for the men to leave and see how they left. Meanwhile, I’d keep thinking about the room and looking for a door where I was. As I decided this, one of the sitting men said, “Hey, is anyone else waiting for the john? I thought you were all waiting for it. If you’re not, then I’m going to go ahead and use it, if you don’t mind.” He had an Australian accent. As he passed me, I turned, and thought I caught sight of the door I sought in a corner.
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 hits keep coming. In another busy night, one stood out.
I was welcomed into a luxury hotel, room 506. There, I found wonderful devices. Connected to my brain, they enabled to accomplish things with simple thought. Think the words and they’re typed. Imagine a food and it’s there. Ponder a drink and it’s at hand.
Wow, of course, right. I was giddy with amazement. Enjoying myself, I went off. Dream time zipped by. I found myself lost. Struggling to find my way back to my hotel and room, I ended up down on an airport tarmac looking for a way in. A woman gave me a white cap. Realizing everyone was wearing one, I put it on so I blended in. Then, trying to sneak into the building past the others (I was casual about it), another woman with a loud voice accosted me, demanding that I write three things on my cap. That confused the hell out of me. (Love that expression: look, no more hell in me! It’s a temporary state, though.) I asked, “Why should I write that on my cap?”
She snipped, “Because you’re part of my security team.”
Removing the cap with a smirk, I answered, “No, I’m not.”
I just walked past her after that. Suddenly back in the hotel, I asked the staff, “Where’s my room?” They replied, “Who are you?”
Although it irritated me, I gave them my name. Then I asked, “What room am I in?” They told me that I should know my room number. Irritation growing because they weren’t helping me and I couldn’t remember my room number, I began guessing. I recall something about two. “Two something, two something. Two oh five. Two oh six.” Then it hit me, no, no, it’d been eleven. One and one was two. I’d reached that by adding the numbers together. Right, five oh six.
Knowing the room number and suddenly the key, a card, was in my hand. I rushed to my room. Shock and dismay quickly displaced my happiness and satisfaction. The room had been trashed. All my neat stuff was damaged and broken. Walking around, I demanded, “What happened? Who did this?” As answers didn’t come, I thought, I must fix these, and began picking up the pieces.
That’s when this dream ended. Yes, this one was weighted with all manner of symbolism and angst. Still fun, you know?
My wife and I, with some friends and cousins, were in a temporary place. Cats were accompanying us.
It wasn’t a great place. An older building, it had a bug issue. Its brown rug was a little worn. Fresh paint would be welcomed on the walls.
Temporary, old, but comfortable, we were grateful for the shelter. Part of our gratefulness and acceptance was that we knew a change was due. We just needed to endure for a short period.
The cats were busy playing and eating. My wife went off somewhere. I took up residence with the cats in another suite of rooms. Why? These things weren’t explained. I was watching television and trying to kill an insect that bugged me. (Yeah, sorry for that pun.) I worried that the insect, something with many legs and a pincer was a threat to the cats. That’s what prompted me to attempt to kill it. But I was trying to kill it gently.
That didn’t work. The thing got away, going under a piece of furniture and disappearing. Meanwhile, I had a huge television turned on and kept surfing through offerings. My wife and cousins returned. A disjointed conversation ensued. I understood it (I think) in the dream but it’s hazy now. The essence of it was that we were in the wrong place and needed to go to the right place. We divvied up tasks. I took the television, carrying it to the next place, with a promise to return for the cats.
I knew the way, yet took a wrong turn and became lost. I was supposed to be able to go from the wrong place to the right place without going outside, but I’d ended up outside.
A light, early evening rain was falling. Trees and bushes overhanging the walkways gave some shelter but water was gushing over gutters and out of drain spouts. Protecting the television, I navigated the paths, yet couldn’t find my way.
Discovering an open door, I slipped into there, thinking that I had to return to the inside. I was in a garage. Trying another door, I entered a dining room. A family was seated at the table eating dinner. I apologized to them, explaining that I was just cutting through to return to the inside.
Amenable to my use of their house as a shortcut, they barely paused in their meal except to reassure one another that it was alright. Leaving their house, I found myself in familiar hallways and knew where to go, and that everything would be okay.
I dreamed that we were preparing for a celebration. I was in a sprawling place that seemed like restaurant and home, offering indoor and outdoor rooms. Although the rooms weren’t well lit, I could see that planning and setup was going on. My wife was present, doing some decorating, along with tall men who I didn’t know. Then three of my sisters and their husbands appeared, along with some of their children and grandchildren. My sisters were all young, too young to have grandchildren. My wife and I were young as well.
An excited feeling permeated the gathering. As it went, I saw my mother off in the distance and realized we were preparing the celebration for her. My other sister, the oldest appeared, walking through the complex. She, weirdly, looked her current age.
Setup was almost complete. I said, “I need to go shower and get ready.” I went off to find my rooms. Stopping by a bowl, I saw a purple banana amidst the yellow bananas. I thought, banana, grabbed it, peeled it, and started eating. I was surprised to find my sisters and their families behind me, like they were following me. They all seemed expectant, like they were waiting for me to do something.
I started eating the banana; its flesh was purple. I then thought that my sister had wanted the banana. I asked her, ready to offer her some of what was left. As she said, “No, that’s okay,” the banana was a yellow banana with white flesh again. I said, “I thought this was a purple banana.” When I said that, I peeled down the next part, The banana was purple again, with no evidence of yellow peel, but with some white flesh above the purple flesh.
Finishing the banana, I said, “Okay, I need to go get cleaned up.” I headed for my room, wending my way through the poorly-lit room around people and furniture. It was becoming quite noisy. Part of that was that the floor wasn’t carpeted and was wood, so all the people walking made it sound like constant, erratic drumming was underway.
Reaching the door to my room, I paused. My sisters and their families, without their husbands, were behind me. I said, “Um, you guys realize that I’m going in here to shower, shave, and change clothes, so I want privacy. You can’t come in.”
Laughing, they separated, going off in different directions.
I entered the room. They weren’t the expected rooms. I’d been in my rooms earlier, and these were different. As I walked into them, I saw stairs going down to my left. Straight ahead was another room. In there, I found a toddler in a high chair, eating from a bowl. Seeing the child, I realized that I was in my sister-in-law’s room. As I turned to retreat, she came up the stairs. Laughing, I greeted her and said, “Sorry, I’m in the wrong rooms. I thought these were my rooms, but they’re your rooms. I’m always getting lost in these rooms.”
The dream ended.
As I awoke and chuckled about the dream, thinking about how much of my family was represented (and then, my extended family, via my sister-in-law), I remembered the Prince song, which happens to be a personal favorite, “Let’s Go Crazy”.
“Let’s look for the purple banana until they put us in the truck, let’s go.”
Of course, he goes on to sing, “Let’s go crazy. Let’s go nuts.” Is that what my mind is telling me? Just let go?
I do know that I woke up feeling fantastic and energetic. I’m ready. Let’s go.
Michael Seidel, writer 