Science fiction, fantasy, mystery and what-not
fat shame
hair shame
body shame
lip shame
boob shame
skin shame
– “You ain’t nothin’ ‘less you got the look.”
smart phone
iphone
TV
car
clothing
house
– “Better work harder until you got the best.”
money
mansion
influence
power
Republicans
Democrats
– “You don’t matter ’cause you’re not rich.“
minorities
women
immigrants
L-G-B-T
children
foreigners
– “Who the hell are you?”
I caught what seemed to be a flash, white and gold, on the right side of my vision’s edge.
Answering some instinct, I didn’t move. A woman’s head filled my vision. She said, “I showed you mine, now you show me yours, you show me yours, you show me yours.”
I can’t describe her face or voice. Each evaded me, but I knew she was a witch. I knew that I was discovering something that was ending that had been going on, that she wasn’t talking to me, and that she was talking about power. She’d shown someone her power, and now she wanted their power shown.
I saw then that she was speaking to angels in white, but the angels had monkey faces. They reminded me of the flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz, except their faces were alabaster white.
I wasn’t supposed to see or hear any of this. Knowing that I had, the witch vanished and the angels flew. I think someone might have said, “Hide.” Turning to look at that moment, I caught a fleeting glimpse of the angels going across grass and around trees, like a park, and then they were gone. They’d been very small, like dolls.
As I puzzled this, I heard a male voice say, “The healing angel wants you to know that you were heard.”
I awoke.
I dreamed I had superpowers. The background of how I acquired them wasn’t explained.
The dream begins with me in the ocean on a clear, sunny day. The ocean is calm. Without knowing how, I’m on the ocean’s surface, but dry, and discover, hey, I have powers. Exploring that a little more, I discover that I can transform things.
Shouting reaches me. There’s been a disaster. People need help. With some listening and investigating, I learn that refugees at sea are on a sinking ship. They’re going to drown.
I tell everyone, don’t worry. I can transform things. Nobody understands what I’m talking about. It’s not important that they understand. I know what I can do, and I do it. Like friggin’ magic, because I don’t know what I transformed, the refugees are saved.
Everyone is astonished. “How did you do that?” people are asking. I tell them, “I told you that I can transform things.” Understanding begins to dawn in some.
Arriving somewhere else, where it’s dark and sinister, I met with other people and explain my power. A woman accosts me. I know who she is in the dream; basically, she’s evil incarnate. She’s there to trick me into helping her so that she can destroy me. Yes, I know this.
“I know who you are,” I said. “And I’m not playing games.” She’s sitting on a wall with her legs crossed. A shiny red mask covers her face. “I’m going to destroy you,” I said.
She chuckled with doubt. I transformed her into something that I can break but the transform doesn’t hold. She’s too strong. But I know that I can keep transforming her, but I must be fast, to keep her off-balance. So I continue transforming her until she’s a fly.
She flies off. I can’t track her but someone else tells me, “I saw her land and squashed her.” He points to a fly smashed on a wall. I look at the spot and see pieces of a red mask. Accepting it’s her, I clean her body off the wall with a paper towel and throw her away.
Back somewhere else, I’m trying to explain to people how I transform things, and do demonstrations. During these, I begin learning that the more complicated something is, the more difficult the challenge of transforming it, and that it won’t stay transformed long. That’s especially true with mechanical and electronic devices, and less so with organics. It’s a lesson in limitations that I need to remember.
That’s where the dream ends.
What a fun dream, to transform things and help others.
I’ve been doing a lot of writing in my head. When I sit down to write, I’m already spun up and ready to write. I’ve noticed that when I write in my head to such an extent, I also seem to dream more. It’s like some portal in me has been opened during that period, and imagination flows into my writing become diverted into dream flows when I sleep.
I didn’t star in this dream. I was there, and featured, but the stars were a young female tennis player and a wealthy country man.
It started out with country boy. I call him a boy, but that was the nature of descriptions in this place. Boy didn’t denote an age, but a style. Gregarious, beloved, and admired by his farm-based community, he asked me, out of the blue, if I’d like to ride in his helicopter. I was teenager. I immediately understood this was an honor and treat, and accepted. People were envious, but in a joking way, because they’d not been in his helicopter.
He and I did some errands in his truck. When done, we drove down to his helicopter. It was a little two-seater with a bubble cockpit. He was the pilot, and took us aloft on a aerial tour of the region. He regaled me with stories about his life as he did. When we landed, he offered me a ride in his burnt-orange Lamborghini roadster. We did that, riding through town and around the countryside. It felt like a special day for me, and I was flattered to be treated like this.
A young woman arrived. Actually, she was fourteen, so appropriately, she was a girl, but people in the dream referred to her as the young woman. She was small and slender, with dark eyes and hair. No one thought much of her. She was supposed to be some tennis star, but everyone was skeptical of her because of her stature and quiet demeanor.
A demonstration game was arranged, her against local pros. Suddenly, she was revealed as a different person. Her relentless speed, quickness, accuracy, and intelligence went on full display as she beat player after player. Everyone was talking about her long after the games ended, marveling that such a small person could have a powerful overhead shot and tremendous serve, and be so fast. She was going to be given the helicopter and Lamborghini rides, too. I unabashedly endorsed that, telling the wealthy patron she deserved such an honor more than me.
Late day found us eating a huge communal dinner. It was held outdoors. Everyone was sitting on pillows and blankets. The food was strange and exotic. I can’t begin to describe the eels, snakes, and shellfish I saw being served.
Then came a special event where the patron beat his white SUV. It was a new car. I didn’t understand the reasons for beating it, but he hit it one time so hard that the car was folded into two. We all thought it was an astonishing display of strength, but also a statement on his indifference to his wealth.
And there was where the dream ended.
I would dream, awaken, and think, and then return to the dream. The dream series had so much detail, it was like immersive virtual reality. To capture it all would require hours of thinking and writing, so I give this sparse version.
The dream sequence began with me as an adult being invited into a special program. In the dream, I had the ability to see patterns and intuitively meld data, at times doing so as fast as people say, “Hello.” I can’t claim to understand the talent completely; it permitted me to almost instantly know people’s name and history. People were in awe of it.
The special program was an experiment in three phases. First, an operation. Second, a test of complex data to evaluate results. Third, to let me out and see what happens.
The place was an old medical office building now used as a school. The halls were tall, crowded and narrow. There were many small rooms, and the sheer density of teachers and students created havoc trying to get around. I arrived looking slovenly, joking with them, pleased to be invited, and not at all intimidated. There had been one person like me who’d gone through the program. His name was Carrie. He’d done it decades before, before anyone was even sure what he was.
Put into a small, crowded bedroom also used as an office, I demonstrated my initial skills. The project members were amazed. I’d been through this before with others. People were always dubious of my skills and wanted demonstrations. They thought the data and situation was extremely complex but it was amazingly simple to me. My time for going through it was less than a few seconds. It was slow by my standards. I bragged that to them.
We agreed to go through with the operation.
The operation seemed to involve crunching down on my thumb nail hard with something that looked like a wired hole-punch. Two tall white guys, young and casually dressed, did the operation. It went off as specified but the results afterward weren’t overly impressive. Yes, I had an improvement in my ability to intuitively gather and analyze data, but the scale didn’t increase as much as we’d expected. I was disappointed, and so were the program administrators.
Another thumb punch was proposed and accepted. They found another place on my thumb nail and punched.
I felt stunned, both connected to the world and released to be outside of it. I could see the data in a way I never had, but I was exhausted and in pain. Bent over, holding my thumb, I crashed to the floor.
I awoke in the same room, but in a white hospital gown. I remained desperately enervated and in pain. I wanted to sleep. They told me that I’d been working in my sleep. They were amazed. I had no knowledge of it. I wanted to sleep more.
I also wanted to know what was different about the second operation from the first. It had seemed exactly the same, only administered in a different location. The two male ‘operators’ wanted to talk about it, and began by explaining that they’d probably just found a sweet spot, but the administrators didn’t want them disturbing me. Everyone was whisked out of my room.
I slept again, but then, half-awake, felt the need to leave the room. No logic supported my desire. I just needed to go. The door was partway open; I went through. On the other side were the administrators and operators, along with other people. They argued about whether I should be let out, but decided that if that’s what I wanted to do, they shouldn’t stop me.
I left. My thumb ached. I held it out to one side and coped with its pain.
The rooms and halls were packed with children. Male and female were there. Most were between eight and thirteen years old. None were poor but all seemed dressed in a style I associate with middle-class America. White children dominated but there was a wide variety of ethnicities present.
The children didn’t know who I was, but they thought I was the guy, the special guest. They were too awed of me to speak with me. They became silent wherever I went, watching me as I went by them, through rooms, and up and down steps and halls. I noticed one child because he seemed different. Black, he had a narrow face, a tall, poofy afro, and wide solemn eyes. I saw him several more times, and sought reasons for why I was seeing him so frequently. Others spoke about him by name. I engaged in the conversation, and then decided to look for him.
I began walking around again. I was often noticed because I remained in my white hospital gowns. I didn’t like that, so I stopped off and changed clothing into my usual style. Then I resumed roaming.
Bulletin boards filled with photographs were on some hall walls. I stopped to look at them sometimes. The boards had hundreds of photographs of individuals and groups. Nothing was labeled but looking at the photos, I knew who people were.
One board had a small black and white photograph of the great Carrie. He wore a straw hat and appeared to be in an Hawaiian shirt. There were several photographs of me when I was younger. I didn’t know where they’d gotten them.
I kept roaming the building through crowds of students and rooms of teachers. Picking up data, I realized the projects full scope was to analyze the group patterns and assess and predict who would be successful. I knew I could do this. The more I walked, the more I learned. As I learned, I realized the children and teachers were arranged in a pattern.
Squatting against a wall, I paused to rest and think. This crowd of children weren’t sure of who I was. They mostly ignored me. But then an administrator entered. She walked around with internal mail. Calling my name, she passed me a thin folder. “Nine comments,” she said. “Impressive.”
I studied the comments. They were complimentary but not helpful. I resumed walking around. I thought about the black kid again.
I entered a room. Children were lying on the floor on their backs. I stood by the entrance, looking at them. One boy beside me kicked me in the leg.
I was furious. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him to his feet, asking the others who he was. He was unapologetic, unafraid and indifferent to me. He wouldn’t talk.
Ten years old, he was white, slender with a thick bush of black hair and dark eyes. He wore blue jeans and a sweater. I wanted to know his name, demanding it off of the other children present. I was angry that he’d kicked me, but there was more.
I couldn’t get anything off him.
He was outside the data. That was how I’d begun, I realized, as a person outside of the norms.
The dreams ended.
Little late posting about this, as I dreamed it on winter solstice.
It was a simple dream. I was driving one of three vehicles. Other people were driving the other vehicles. One vehicle controlled the others. I wasn’t in that vehicle, so I lacked control. But I wanted it. Lack of experience with the vehicle and ignorance about what was transpiring hampered me.
The cars were impressive. Closed cockpit, but definitely road cars, they were extremely low, powerful, silent and fast. They were also identical. I knew the other two drivers in the dream as people from earlier years of life.
We took off driving. I was third in line. In an interesting twist (maybe interesting only to me), I went from a close, over the shoulder point-of-view in which I saw myself, my controls and the road ahead, to a long, wide shot that featured the three sleek, silver vehicles silently racing along an elevated white highway.
Back in the car’s cockpit, I decided I wanted control. So I took it with by flicking a switch. Now I was the one driving as the other two chaffed about me taking control. But I had it and didn’t relinquish it, and they accepted that after their brief complaints.
That’s essentially the dream, but subsequent activity was interesting. First, I awoke on the day after solstice feeling like a tremendous weight on been removed. I felt lighter, stronger, and more energetic and optimistic.
Two, among several dreams was a repeat of this dream a few nights later. It went almost exactly the same way.
I thought it a good omen for a new year, but then, I’m an optimist. Have a good day.
Cheers
I dreamed that I discovered I had these pieces with the power to change the world.
The pieces weren’t special to regard. Several sets existed and seemed to serve different purposes. As I was just learning about these, I began sorting the shapes and noticing their colors. I began experimenting with their uses. For that purpose, I chose the black shapes. Each of these were about four inches long. Shaped like angle-iron, they appeared to be plastic.
I looked over a familiar scene from our town, Ashland, across the highway and valley to where Grizzly Peak rules a sloping landscape dominated by vineyards. Using the black power pieces, I put four along the bottom and top of the scene, and two more on either side. With these blocks outlining that scene, I knew I could change it. I knew I could put it anywhere I desired.
I was thrilled and pleased to realize I’d discovered that I had these power blocks and capability. I experienced an epiphany that I had the power to change. I wanted to learn more, and share the information with other people. As the dream concluded, I felt rewarded, satisfied, and optimistic.
Both of these dreams intrigued me, but for different reasons.
In the first, I was visiting a place cohabited by many places. I knew this. I was in the kitchen, a square and white, cluttered, noisy room, but I was basically passing through while I awaited others. In there, I noticed this red plastic stuff. Even in the dream, I said, “I don’t know what this stuff is.” I didn’t; nor did I know their uses. Key to me then was that it was filthy, absolutely coated with slime and grease, and I was appalled.
“My god,” I said in the dream, “don’t any of you ever clean?”
A woman who lived there entered the kitchen at that point and answered, “They never clean.” She was busy making something and kept up a commentary about how dirty things were. Oddly, it was actually only the red pieces that were filthy. There seemed to be three of them.
“Let’s clean these off,” I suggested. Moving to the sink as she did, I began cleaning one while she prepared her meal. “Run some hot water over this,” I requested. She did as I used a scrub brush. The coat of grease and slime was being easily removed.
The others I’d been waiting for were now ready to leave, and called me. I told them to hold on so I could clean further.
After thinking about this today, I decided that this was in line with my recent line of dreams about lost identity. The aspect of my power being dirty and never cleaned followed the sense that I’d lost my way. Now I’ve cleaned it off. That’s exciting as hell.
The second dream, well, bordered on the unusual. It was about family.
I was driving my wife and mother-in-law to a store. We were in an older Blazer or Yukon, I’m not certain of which. We arrived at a cluttered and busy five and dime. As we entered, I thought I saw my wife’s sister and her husband walking away. This is where it became interesting. After awakening and thinking about that scene, I realized that the store was located by my mother’s house, and my sister-in-law and her husband were walking to mom’s house.
Meanwhile, in the dream, I wanted to confirm it was them. Without telling my wife and mother-in-law, I raced through the store to go back out. It was busy, though, and difficult to get through. When I finally reached an exit, I discovered that I’d taken the wrong exit. Instead of going outside, I was exiting into the mall.
Realizing my error, I hurried back through the store and found the right exit. Jumping into my vehicle, I drove down the road, but they were gone. I wasn’t surprised, because I believed they were taking a shortcut home, and had turned off onto one of the side streets.
Of course, the dream interested me for several reasons. One was the juxtaposition of family members and locations. The second was that my sister-in-law can’t, or won’t walk as seen in the dream, because of health issues.
These seemed like a cautionary dream for me not to confuse relationships and situations regarding my extended family.
Do you have any dreams to share? Cheers
