Tag: old friends

The New Clothing Dream

A friend and I were staying with a gay couple. I seemed to be in my early twenties. The couple lived in a city apartment a few floors up. A big city, the place was busy and noisy. I was there to get rid of my old clothing, and then I was taking a trip to get new clothing. We were flying out for that purpose the next day. Meanwhile, my buddy wanted us to go out on the town before leaving. Parallel to this, our hosts were throwing a party (unrelated to our visit). They’d also received a new table and were putting it together.

As I’d chosen to get rid of my old clothes except what I was wearing and what I was traveling in the next day, I decided to find something to wear from the clothes I was getting rid of to wear out on the town. It should be something festive. I found an old pale yellow shirt with a red parrot embroidered on the left chest, a shirt I haven’t owned in over thirty years.

I paused while dressing to watch them trying to put the new table together. It wasn’t going well. They thought parts were missing and were calling the manufacturer for help. I thought that I would be doing it differently, as they seemed disorganized, but I believed part of the issue was that they already had too many people involved, so I remained uninvolved.

My friend was urging me to hurry up. It was night, and the night was calling him. He was wearing jeans and a maroon puffy jacket. I was only in a shirt. “Is it cold out? Do I need a jacket?” Without awaiting an answer, I went into my old clothes for a jacket. I pulled it on, but then decided it was too heavy and replaced with a lighter jacket, an old black “Members Only” jacket I used to have. I then worried, maybe I should change shirts because the parrot was no longer seen. But I left it at that. He and I scampered down the steps and into the brightly-lit night to have fun.

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A Dream Variety

A wide selection of remembered dreams fill me this morning. Two acquired prominent positions so I’ll relate them.

The first was about a foot race. Younger, I was gathered along with about twenty other young men. I’d hazard that we were in our late teens/early twenties. We’d just run qualifying races that were one lap (don’t know the distance). Now we were to run the real race of five laps. For some reason, a staggered start was employed. Basically, I was required to wait for my name to be called, then put on my shoes and start running.

Young women of about the same age were in bleachers to watch and cheer us on. Hearing my name, I slammed on black running shoes and took off. I ran hard without breathing hard or breaking a sweat, passing competitors with impressive ease. Finishing, I was surprised, thinking, “Already? That was it?” Thinking that I’d won, or at least finished in the top three – hard to say because the staggered stop meant that we were being judged on time, not track position — I sought the results but couldn’t find anyone willing to give official results.

The next dream found me visiting the parents of childhood friends. I was a young adult; they were of the age they were when I knew them. I snuck into their brick two story house because I’d heard they had a boat in their basement, and I wanted to see their boat. Getting down there, I discovered, yes, they’d constructed a large sail boat in their basement. Admiring its white and blue hull, I circled the boat, astonished by their accomplishment, and perplexed about why they’d build a boat in their basement.

I realized I needed to get home. It was already late evening. The sun had set and I had several miles to go. I didn’t want to walk in the dark. Going upstairs, I found friends from my current life. I asked if I could get a ride with them. One answered, “Yeah, I have my car. You can ride with us.” His car, I knew, was a dark green 1970 Ford LTD. “But you need to wait,” he told me. “It’ll just be a little longer, then we’ll be done.” They were playing with Excel spreadsheets. I began playing with them, too, but didn’t know what I was looking at, and became bored. That’s when the dream ended.

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The Old Friends Dream

I dreamed that I was with a lot of old friends. People I’d gone to school with, neighborhood friends from my youth, and people I’d worked with around the world while in the Air Force, or working in Progressive Angioplasty Systems, Tyco, Internet Security Systems, and IBM were there. Writing friends were there, along with sports and drinking buddies.

No occasion that I know was mentioned for the gathering. We were just having a big party in an enormous ballroom, a place so large that I couldn’t see the other side. Well-lit, round tables were set with crystal and silver.

Weirdly, I entered after being out with some, and that’s when the dream proper began. I’d been with one person who I no longer wanted to be with. I had no enmity with him, but he was drunk and being obnoxious, so I was avoiding him. As I was skirting where he was, a group of friends streamed in. Seeing me, they shouted, “There he is,” and waved, happy to see me. I joined them, and we chatted, having a good time.

Then Chris suggested we go somewhere. “Where?” I asked.

“Who cares,” he said, with the friendly and easy smile that he habitually presented.

“Let’s go,” I said. “We can take my car, but I don’t want to drive.”

Chris said, “I’ll drive.”

We got into my silver Mazda. I was in the back seat. Setting off, we talked about where to go. Chris came up with a suggestion, but nobody knew where it was. “Use the GPS,” I said. Chris knew how to do that and pressed the buttons needed.

With my next awareness, we were at a more intimate setting. Many of my friends were there in their party clothes, but everyone seemed tired, I think from partying so much. They were barely interested in the music.

And that was amazing, because up on stage was a young Marvin Gaye with a back-up group. All of them were in amazing bright blue outfits with white shirts.

Marvin finished his performance. I looked around, like, why isn’t anyone applauding. As I began clapping, so did someone else. Putting his hands out, Marvin said, “Hey,” and everyone else sat up and applauded.

Then Jeff was by my side. Pointing at Marvin, he said, “He’s wearing a one.”

Yes, the number one was in black on a white porcelain appearing badge that hung down from his shoulders on his front. Seeing Jeff point at him, Marvin came over to speak with us. I was awed to be in such close proximity to such a creative and intelligent person. He was so pleasant and polite. We shook hands and chatted, and then Jeff, pointing again at Marvin, said, “That one is for London Park, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Marvin agreed.

Jeff bobbed his head with enthusiasm. “I was there, I’ve been there.”

Bewildered, I wanted to ask, where’s London Park? I’ve never heard of London Park. How do you know the one is for London Park?

I didn’t get the chance, because that’s where the dream ended.

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