Mundaz Wandering Thoughts

“Hello, you old geezer.”

That was my opening to Dad when I phoned him today. My opening was part of a routine we’ve been doing for five decades, except I used to refer to him as ‘old man’. In a previous call, I’d explained to him that he’d graduated from being an old man to being an old geezer.

Dad responded as expected. “Boy,” the nonagenarian said. “I can still kick your butt.”

I laughed. “Sure, if I hold your cane for you and keep your oxygen on hand.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Lots of laughter and teasing followed. It was a good conversation.

The Roger Moore Dream

I was given a DVD. “Review this. It’s your life.”

I don’t know who spoke to me. I took the disc and put it in a player and sat in a chair, feet on ottoman, remote in my hand. Surprise number one: I looked like a young Roger Moore.

Watching the video of a young child doing things outside in bright sunshine, I felt doubt. This isn’t my life, is it? Doubts increased when a blonde white woman in a red dress showed up. That’s not me. She was driving a red Lamborghini Urraco. Dream me drove a gray Urraco. She couldn’t be me, could she? My doubts began diminishing as a watched her driving around, walking around, attending classes, talking to people, all snippets, all while she wore various red dresses.

Another woman, Campbell, came on screen. Also white, brunette, she drove a white Urraco. White cars are not my preference, so it couldn’t be me, but she weirdly resembled me — she could be Roger Moore’s sister. Like the other, I witnessed her doing various activies always dressed in white but not always a dress. All of it was weirdly familiar, as if another person had been plugged into my life. These were dream memories, not RL memories.

Then I appeared in a dark gray Lamborghini Urraco, the car dream me drove. Okay, that is me, I was confident. But how could all of these be me when two are female? It has to be more about us than the cars. But the memories being shown were familiar. While I watched, I thought, the car represents my body. Why different colors, then? To present different aspects of myself? Sounded feasible but needed more research.

Stopping the video, I moved over to my desk and laptop, and searched for colors in dreams. A man came to the office door and said, “You need to finish the review. We have good things planned for you but you need to know yourself before we can go forward.”

I replied, “That sounds very new age-y.”

The man was short, white, black hat, black suit. “Finish your review. Get on it.”

I felt impelled to do as he said and rose, moving around the desk to continue.

Dream end.

Three Dreams

Seduction, destruction, confusion, and security. Short summaries of sharply remembered dreams where I felt these things.

My first remembered dream from last night’s slumbering had me being seduced. This woman and I were traveling with others. All of us then got in bed together. She turned to me and told me that she wanted to have sex with me and moved her hands along my body. She said, she’d thought about it, and I deserved it. I was eager and ready but, hello, there are other people in the bed. She said that she’d spoken with them and that they’d agreed. As she said that, the other three left the bed. I kissed her and she reciprocated.

Dream censored.

Second in the dream line was about destruction being wrought by an evil baby head.

I found myself in an empty old Victorian style home. Going through the rooms, I discovered a huge black trunk in a room upstairs by a window. I opened it. Line with gray inside, its only contents was a smaller black bag which reminded me of a bowling ball bag. As soon as I opened the bag, a baby’s head floated out. White but mottled, it had no body, a constant leer, and thin hair, and was alive. Dread emanated from it, soaking me. I was immediately dispirited. I quickly found it had master telepathic control of others and telekinesis as it threw boulders with its mind and created slaves of other people. Understanding that it had no good intentions, I managed to get behind it while it wasn’t paying attention and get it into the trunk. Slamming the lid shut, I locked it but realized that I could still hear it in my head. I realized it had been in that other black bag to block its thoughts and powers.

I fled, trying to get distance from the baby head, driving along old and narrow country roads, going up a mountain. I soon found myself lost with a black spirit. The baby’s voice was diminished but I felt its presence. Leaving the car to look around and figure out where I was, I decided that I needed to go back and destroy the baby’s head.

End of dream.

Finally, I had a dream about a wealthy old man. White, he was quite old and thin, and favored a monocle, black silk top hat, and a black walking cane topped with a diamond. Suited in a black suit with morning coat, he wore a white bow tie and traveled about in an all-black ‘car’. This car was essentially several rooms, like a narrow black land yacht with a design out of the 1930s. As said, extremely wealthy, he was in charge of everything, he declared, and he didn’t any changes. Large, serious expression men in black suits provided constant security.

I, a young man, was with him in this cluttered and narrow beast of a car. He’d chosen me to write his biography, so I was there to listen to him tell his life story and give me his wisdom so that I could compile it all. Like him, I was dressed in a white shirt and black suit, but with a black tie. His aide, an older man, was dressed as I was.

I was enjoying myself as others brought me tea and pastries while we drove around the city in the mechanical beast. Observing everyone, distraction set in, and I entertained myself by figuring out how the old man could be abducted, and then created a story concept around it. Pleased, I shared that with the old man.

Well, he was outraged, shouting, “Balderdash, that could never happen.” Then he stormed out of that section and into the car’s rear. I knew that he was upset because I’d pointed out a security vulnerability. The elderly aide chastised me in gentle, polite tones for upsetting the old man, who the aide revered. I explained to the aide how I was right, showing and demonstrating the car’s vulnerability on which I based my story. His expression told me that he knew I was right. He went off to comfort his boss.

Dream end.

Yes, I see how black dominates these dreams, as does power and desire.

A Blue Puzzle

I was a young boy, sitting on the floor, putting together a puzzle. Every piece was a shade of blue. Most were dark blue. The pieces weren’t like jigsaw puzzle pieces but were irregularly shape and not interlocking. Sometimes they seemed like they were pieces of tin while other times, they were cloth. Those differences peeved me. How was I supposed to put them together when they were such different materials?

People were going by. No one stopped to help, although an old man, in an overcoat, with a hat and cane, sunglasses covering his eyes, stopped to watch. Aware of his presence, I began working more diligently. Achieving some success, I became happier, more determined. Wrestling I found some tin snips. I saw no reason not to use them and started cutting shapes to fit together. In minutes, I had completed the puzzle. It was a large, uniformly blue rectangle, like a flag.

Awakening, I thought, I pulled a Kirk, cheating on the Kobayashi Maru Test, to win. Hah!

Sunday’s Theme Music

A quiet day for me, providing an interlude for reflection. After watching the news, contemplating history and contrasting them with current events, Neil Young’s song, “Old Man” (1972).

Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.
Old man look at my life,
I’m a lot like you were.

Old man look at my life,
Twenty four
and there’s so much more
Live alone in a paradise
That makes me think of two.

Love lost, such a cost,
Give me things
that don’t get lost.
Like a coin that won’t get tossed
Rolling home to you.

Old man take a look at my life
I’m a lot like you
I need someone to love me
the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes
and you can tell that’s true.

Lullabies, look in your eyes,
Run around the same old town.
Doesn’t mean that much to me
To mean that much to you.

I’ve been first and last
Look at how the time goes past.
But I’m all alone at last.
Rolling home to you.

h/t to AZLyrics.com

I picked this acoustic version for its simplicity, and because Young is young in it, and alone, unvarnished, on the stage with his guitar.

The Dream’s Train Segment

I was in Germany, walking along railroad tracks in the countryside. An elderly man was there. Tired, in holed clothes and mismatched shoes, he was befuddled, trying to say something and not saying much. I thought he wanted to get on the train, but I wasn’t sure. Nothing coherent came from him. While I wanted to help him, exasperation crept in; I had things to do, and he was not making sense.

I missed the train. I began to chase it. I didn’t run, but walked, and not at a fast pace. I followed a path that ran parallel to the tracks. The train would stop a bit ahead, and then, as I grew closer, take off again.

Then, I don’t know why, I decided I was going the wrong way. Reversing direction, I passed the old man again. I told him, “There’s the train, I’m going to catch it, if you want to come with me.” But he stayed where he was, in the sunshine, glancing around.

The train was stopped. I caught it, got onboard, and found my wife. She and I began shopping. It was important for her to get a supply of food. These were big emergency bags. Everyone was going for them. I didn’t think we needed them, and questioned what was in them, but she was insistent, so I took one.

Then we were walking through a department store with other shoppers. I had no idea what we wanted, so I mostly focused on killing time until the next part arrived. I was certain that was about to happen. An old friend, who was a first sergeant in the Air Force, stopped me to ask for some advice about what she should do regarding a personnel issue. As I was giving her my opinion, my wife returned looking for me. I introduced the two of them and they chatted. As that happened, others hailed me, seeking advice or help. I helped them as I could, and then my wife and I went on.

When we went on, my wife said to me, “I see what you mean. Everyone wants some part of you.”

We arrived at a cabin where we were going to stay. It was luxurious but small. I decided that I needed to prepare for the next day. I removed my clothes, which turned out to be a military uniform (light blue shirt, dark blue pants), and steam-pressed it so it would look good.

The segment ended.

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