A Classroom Dream

I arrived with another man — my boss — and parked in a parking garage. The car, like others there, was a mid-1960s vintage. Windows were left open so cars could stay cool, a precaution in those pre-AC days.

My boss and I were going to a conference together, meeting our team. When we went in, we learned that we would be learning about and practicing Statistical Process Control. I already knew SPC so I decided to duck out. Taking a long piece of brown cardboard from a window, I returned to my car, put the cardboard over the windshield, and napped.

Waking up later, I realized I’d overslept. Jumping out of the car, I literally ran into my boss. He said, “I’m off now, have a good weekend,” and trotted away.

Hot, I decided to strip off my clothes, leaving only my shoes on, and entered the classroom. Everyone else in there were women. They all noticed that I was naked but nobody said anything.

As I started walking through, a woman called me over to chat with me along with several other women. She was showing us her marvelous new material, which could be used on tables or floors. It seemed odd to me to be doing that then but I looked at her samples. All were bright and colorful, and very shiny, with pieces of different colored tiles embedded in them. As I looked, she asked me, “What would you choose for your floor, Michael?”

At that point, someone else called for my attention. I began walking away but called back, “My floor would be light gray but very shiny.”

Sitting down at a desk, I listened to our team lead, speaking at the front and realized they were finishing an exercise. Deciding that I wasn’t comfortable being naked, I went back to another part and discreetly put on a casual shirt and shorts. Then I went back.

The class was ending. I stepped outside into sunshine and wondered what I should do.

A Weird Car Trip Dream

Friends and I were awakening from sleep in a darkly cluttered place. Three or four others were there, including one friend from RL forty years ago. The others were dream friends but not anyone from this RL. As the sun rose, an old stage, perhaps once part of a high school but now outside, gained substance.

We talked about news while sitting up, rubbing sleep out of our faces, and stretching. One was complaining that people didn’t understand the news and headlines. Someone suggested that we should do plays where we would just read headlines and stories and then explain them. Sounded good to me. Someone else said that we needed to clean the area up but I asked why because the stage with its clutter and junk seemed like a meta statement about our world. As this conversation went on, the sun rose, daylight came up, papers were dropped off on the stage and people became walking past. We’d been rolling up our sleeping bags, putting other shirts on, and making coffee. Now one guy picked up a newspaper and started reading it aloud. People going past stopped to listen.

I went down steps, out the back, and met my cousin. He and I went off to collect our clothing, which was somewhere else, because we needed to get ready to go. He kept talking about what he was going to wear and asking my opinion of his ideas, but I wasn’t deeply invested in that and didn’t respond much. Reaching a building, we went upstairs and found our open suitcases. This wasn’t the clothes we wanted; that was at Mom’s house, my cousin thought, suggesting that we go there. I told my wife where we were going. She decided to come with us.

We entered a large white vehicle with a thick black stripe down each side. The inside was flat and wide, with a thin, gray carpet on the floor. Windows were on every side, giving great visibility. Some gray folding chairs were set up in it in the front, but we would need more. I set up some chairs that I found, dubbing one in the second row by the window as ‘mine’. Two people were already seated in the front row, where three chairs were set up. One of those was my SIL, who was waiting to leave as well, which startled me. For some reason, I didn’t expect her there.

My cousin had disappeared, and so had my wife. I went out to Mom’s home and found the clothes which I wanted, and put on a green shirt to wear while I traveled. Going back outside I saw cars pulling up and parking on the lush green lawn. “They’re not going to like that,” I told others several times, talking about the people who lived in this housing area. “They’re proud of their lawn. They should move their cars before they’re found.”

Everyone ignored me. I found my cousin back inside Mom’s house. Mom was talking to him as he complained that his clothes weren’t there. I looked and discovered that the suitcase holding his clothes had been emptied. I told him that he would just need to go in what he was wearing, which really upset him.

I returned to the white car. Nobody had set up any more chairs. The driver was present, adjusting his folding chair as a seat, along with my SIL, who was still in her seat. My wife was in the seat which I’d designated for myself. I complained about that with her; she ignored me. Exasperated, I set up another chair behind my SIL. I asked her where she was going, and she answered, “The same place as you.”

I responded, “I’m going back to school.”

She answered, “So am I.”

The car rocked with movement. Going to a window and looking out, I discovered that the car was tall and much larger than expected. We seemed to be twenty feet off the ground. I didn’t know how that was possible.

Dreams ends as the car moves forward with me looking out the window and others talking behind me.

The Dream Brief

I had to face the bald facts.

That’s what I saw in one of my dreams last night.

In it, I was looking at myself in the mirror. There, I discovered that I was balding in an area that I’d not noticed before. Technically, it would have been a deeply receding hairline on the left side of my face.

“I didn’t notice that,” my dream self said, turning my head and examining my hairline.

To which my awareness said, “You need to look in a new direction because you’re missing something that’s going on.”

Isn’t that the way it often is? You’re used to doing something in a fixed way. It becomes rote habit, conducted without thought. They can stale on you, but you can’t see it, because you’re always looking at it the same way.

And by you, I mean, me.

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