Tag: protection

The Protection Dreams

My wife and I received another round of COVID=19 vaccinations yesterday. We agreed that one kicked us harder than the others.

We received them at 11 AM. Other than pain and stiffness at the injection site, all was going well. After meeting with friends for beers in the late afternoon, I returned home and exercised. Then, about 10 PM, it seemed like someone encased my body in concrete. My newfound stiffness stunned me. Reaching down, sitting down, standing up, movement of any kind was met with defiant resistance.

Next, cold invaded my body. It reminded me of being in Korea one winter. Heavy shivering gripped me. My hands and feet felt so cold, I stuck my hands down my shorts against my groin to warm them and gasped at the shock of my cold hands. I normally sashay through the house in gym shorts and a tee shirt. Now I applied additional layers, including socks. Socks! The indignation. Then came headaches and a mild fever. I woke up at one point soaked with sweat.

Meanwhile though, I dreamed when I slept. I was heading a horizon. Tall, dark walls were being erected. That’s my protection against COVID-19, I told myself. I had variations of that dream three times during the night. The walls were different each time. In the second dream, I said, “I need bigger, stouter walls, taller walls.” Someone — a male — replied, “They’re coming.”

All three of these dreams were short. They felt like they were less than a minute, and in each, it was only me, darkening skies, and protective walls.

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Another Space Traveling Dream

I dreamed again I was in my home. It’s the third dream in the series. I’m my current age, appearance, and so on. I’m aware that my house, with its yard, has been lifted from the earth and is traveling through space. Like before, I have a cutaway scene where I see this.

As in the prior dreams, my windows are open. Space’s darkness is beyond their screens. Unlike the previously experienced dreams about this, I’m unconcerned, because I know there’s some kind of protection around the house and yard. We are safe, traveling through space.

I’m at my desk, typing on my computer. I’m aware this time that a man is present. Off to my right, he’s not a shadow but is in like a shadowy orb. I don’t know who he is. He doesn’t bother me; he just seems to be a present to know. I also understand that he’s not grounded but hovering in the air. I think about speaking to him, but I don’t. I just continue typing.

Dream end.

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A Space Dream Again

I dreamed again that I was in my home office but my home and yard had been lifted intact to travel through space. I dreamed that, as I had done in real life, I awoke and looked at my open windows. For a moment, in the dream, I worried that my windows were open to the vacuum of space and that all would be sucked out and destroyed. Then I knew, no, a bubble around the house enclosed and protected me. It provided me air and kept me and my household and its members safe even as we flew through space. Stepping to the window, I raised lowered my blinds and gazed out as the house rushed through black space, destination unknown.

I woke up happy.

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The Break-In Dream

I began with my wife, in our home. This place was a townhome which reminded me of our RL HMB townhome where we lived 1999-2005, but with some odd differences.

I was in the living room because I was certain I’d heard a noise. I was investigating to see if someone had broken in. As I walked around, checking to see if anything was stolen, I realized the door to the garage was open. It wasn’t before.

I walked that way. My wife stormed out of the bedroom where she’d been sleeping. “Someone broke in,” she said. She went to the garage door and rushed down the steps.

I followed, overtaking her as we left the building. We were at its rear, all grasslands, with a few trees, bordering a river. My wife said that she didn’t see anyone and went into the house. I kept looking, picking up a large stick as a weapon, because I might need to protect myself.

I spotted two couples on the riverbank. Teenagers. I called to them. They ignored me. I headed their way. They moved off, careful to never look at me. This kept on for sometime before I gave up.

Darkness overtook the land. I was more than a mile from home. Rain was falling. I decided it would be easier to get to the street and follow it home.

I reached the street. A small brown dog was trying to cross it but was afraid of the traffic. It wasn’t much but I understood the dog’s fear. “Come on, I’ll help you,” I told it.

It came to my side. As we looked, it started across the lane. I saw a car’s yellow headlights coming toward us from the left. “No, not yet,” I said to the dog. “Come back.”

The dog did. We watched that car pass. There was a median strip. I told the dog, “Come on.”

The dog and I crossed to the strip. It stayed with me as we waited for traffic to pass and then went on.

I trotted along in the rain, the dog beside me. I saw no collar on him or tags, and talked to him, asking questions. As we crossed one street, he suddenly turned left and took off in a run. Going home, I guessed.

I turned right and crossed the street. I was home now. It was daylight. The rain had stopped, and I was dry.

I went into the house and armed myself with some hard plastic tubing. My wife was making dinner. I heard a noise from the garage and went to investigate.

A Filipino man was there. Seeing my plastic tubing, he became withdrawn and acted like he was leaving. I asked him, “Who are you? Why are you here?”

He said he had something to give me and held out a hand. I recognized a manuscript. “No, thank you,” I said. “You need to go.”

He took my hand and pressed the manuscript into it. I sighed. “You want this published?”

He nodded with eager smiles.

I repeated, “You need to leave. I’ll go with you and show you how to get this published.”

We went to his house. His family were waiting for his returned. They crowded back when I came in. Getting on his computer, I explained how to self-publish and the query process and how to submit to publishers and agents. He nodded, indicating that he understood.

I returned home. My wife asked where I’d been. Dinner was getting cold. Putting the tubing aside, I explained what had happened as I sat down to eat.

Dream end.

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The Promotion Dream

Twenty to thirty of us, all familiar to me in the dream, were in a very large cabin. I was in charge of this group. I’d been selected for promotion, but I didn’t know when it would happen. Frankly, I was disappointed that it was taking so long.

A bigwig came through and told me that he’d gone through my file, and I was promoted effective immediately, that the promotion should have been right away, and it would be backdated to support that, and I would receive back pay, too.

Well, that all sounded sweet. I told all my friends and co-workers, even opening a window to tell passers-by. Some were happy for me but a few disagreed. One said, “I don’t think you deserve promotion at all.” Others argued with him, defending me. I shrugged them off, thinking, it’s always that way, with disagreements emerging about who to deserves what.

Meanwhile, everyone brought wolves with them for protection. We left our cabin and met more people arriving. One man brought four wolves along and controlled them with voice commands. And elderly woman had a young wolf; I controlled the wolf for her. No wolves fought but the wolves were interested in one another, and everyone remained vigilant to keep the wolves apart.

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The Dark Dream

Dreamed I was walking home alone, in my present neighborhood. Premature darkness dropped as the wind hissed and moaned, thrashing tree branches. I thought it might rain. Turning up the street, I came to my house. One of those POD storage units was by the tall wooden fence in the side yard, smothered in shadows. I did a doubletake when I saw it, then remembered, oh, yes, I’m getting rid of all those things.

I was inside the house. It was dark, without electricity. We were mixing fruit juices. I was contemplating lemon, lime, orange, with cherry and grape. I said, “Those flavors won’t mix.” I knew someone else was there, but I couldn’t see nor hear them. I collected more flavors but didn’t mix them. Then I said, “I must mix them, and then drink them. If I don’t, I’ll never escape.”

But I worried. If I escaped the house, I still needed to face the vampires outside. Surely drinking the mixed juices and escaping had to be the first priority, though.

One candle lit the space. I was in the dining room. A man came to me with a large, flat red box. He wore a black coat with a white shirt. His face was unseen. He presented the red box to me. I didn’t want to take it. “How much?” I finally asked.

Seven hundred, I knew he said without hearing him speak.

I repeated, “Seven hundred?” I shook my head. “That’s not enough. A thousand.”

A thousand was agreed.

I walked outside. Rain was falling but I was protected. I walked down the sidewalk and stopped. Lightning lit the night. The bolts held, frozen in place in the sky. The rain hung, unfalling, lit by the lightning. I could see miles and miles ahead across the dark landscape.

Dream end

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The Designing Dream

First, a woman and I each were given a task to design a swimming pool. This was done in a wide building with low lights. I couldn’t see anything except our work. We each built one but came up with the same L design in off-white. We built them quickly. Along the way, we had lessons in ensuring seams were smooth and tight. Then it came time to fill it. I rolled a suitcase up to one side, inside the pool, jockeying it around on its wheels until I thought it perfectly parked. I then opened the suitcase and began pulling out clothing. I examined each piece, ensuring it was neatly folded, then piled the clothes around me. The clothes piles multiplied like rabbits during breeding season.

That segment ended. I was told that I need to come up with a new ear canal. I quickly devised one, put it in someone’s ear, then walked into it. The ear canal was straight, round, and light blue, but tapered as it went in, ending in the ear drum. “Oh,” I said, inspecting it. “It shouldn’t go straight back to the ear drum like that. The ear drum is left too exposed. Curves are needed to protect it.” Developing curves, the ear canal grew light pink. I backed out of it until I was standing beside a man looking into his ear.

A new segment began. I was at my aunt’s house. She’d had a new place designed and built, she said, effusively greeting me amid charming smiles. Many cousins were present, not just from that aunt, but from all my uncles and aunts on Dad’s side. I was about twenty. They were all eager to impress me and show me around. The setting seemed luxurious. Arched stained-glass windows lined the walls, along with paintings in gold frames. Dark green houseplants were everywhere. Dark green carpeting, and overstuffed leather chairs and a sofa arranged polished, dark wood end tables and coffee tables completed the setting. I could see into other rooms as well, glimpsing a long, polished dining table, part of a modern kitchen, and the side of a billiard table through an open doorway.

A cousin said, “Let me show you around.” In RL, this is a man who was four years younger than me, who died years ago, passing away in his forties from a heart attack as a pizza was delivered to him. This aunt wasn’t his mother, either; her youngest sister was the deceased cousin’s mother.

I asked where a specific room is. He answered, “That’s downstairs.” Seeing a staircase that went down, I confidently headed for it.

He caught up with me and asked, “What are you doing?”

I said, “You said that it was downstairs.”

“You can’t get to it from those stairs. Follow me.” He turned and led me up a staircase to an open area above everything. Looking down, I saw people with drinks engaged in conversations and milling about the rooms. My cousin pointed to another flight of stairs going down. “That’s how you get down.”

I said with some wonder, “You need to go up to get down?” I thought that was a strange design.

My aunt appeared beside me and nodded with a smile. “You need to go up to get down.”

The dream ended.

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The Sex Connection Dream

I started out with a petite dark-haired white woman. She and I were going around on inspections of odd places. Two stood out: a giant mailbox — I mean, it was huge, we were little people walking around inside it — and a large cement room with a single metal door. At each place, we answered questions on a piece of pape. At the end, I was given my results, which was on a large scroll. I had missed thirty-one out of thirty-one questions because my response required me to include something of the subject in my answer. For example, I was told in the dream, if the question was about toilet paper, my answer must have a piece of toilet paper attached to it.

Well, I thought that was stupid. Then I was angry. Then I blamed the woman I’d been with because I’d been following her example. Then I accepted that it was my own fault because I have free will and should have done better. Then I said screw that.

Next, another woman and I were about to enter a room. We knew hostile people were within. The small-statured woman — middle-aged, blonde, and white — was armed with a small machine gun. I picked up a double-barreled anti-aircraft gun. Normally this would be a problem because it’s a big, heavy weapon and I’m a small guy, but for the dream I was suddenly four times my normal size, dwarfing the little lady with me. I told her that I was tired of those people and if they attacked me, I would shoot and kill them. Then I asked her to hold the door open for me so I could go in.

She had trouble with the door. I hovered by her, making suggestions about turning the knob, pulling the door, and how to hold the door open while she still held onto the machine gun. We entered the room; it was empty.

I then left and heard about these six people who claimed to drink an elixir and then travel telepathically to have sex with people in another dimension. I encountered one woman who was part of the six. “So you’re real,” I said, “and you can really do this.” As she nodded and answered, “Yes,” I went on, “I’d heard about your group, but I thought you guys were all just crazy.”

She explained to several of us how it was done and what was involved, and that is, while they’re in a meditative state on this end, they each inhabit another person in another dimension (or maybe it was just in another time period — they weren’t sure) while the other had sex. They said the others were willing participants because the travelers’ presence enhanced the sexual experience.

I had a number of questions and put them to her, like, do the hosts definitely know they’re there, can you experience things from the others’ perspective, and can you control them?

She told me that the others knew of her presence. She could feel them when she started getting close to them, then see them as shadows, which then transformed into figures of white light. She knew that they could control them a little but had never pressed the issue. She and her group had taught the others about the elixir and meditation so both groups could have sex and transport themselves at the same time, amplifying the effect. Yeah, that didn’t make sense to me.

But I was intrigued. The dream got a little weird, because I could hear this woman talking to other people, but I had gone off and was following myself. From the dream perspective, I sometimes had a ‘split screen’ while I otherwise swapped perspectives between me and her.

She told the others that I was going to try and that I would succeed because she’d felt me awakening as she explained what they did. Hearing that, I found some elixir. I was leery of drinking it because I didn’t know what was in it. She explained that to the others. After that, I took a small sip. As soon as I did, I became aware of shadows moving nearby. I was surprised at how quick and easy it was.

Dream end.

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Today’s Dream

Recurring themes proliferate in recent dreams: traveling. Being in an airport. Lost. Confused.

I had what seemed like one long dream. If it was a movie, it would have been about the length of Gone with the Wind — three hours and forty-two minutes. It just stretched on, and all took place in an airport.

But I’m focusing on one piece. I was traveling with a group of friends, waiting for our flight. We decided to walk down as a group to a corner store to get something to eat for the flight, or while waiting for it. But, we also discussed it and decided to buy food to donate. Thinking of that, I was looking in a large drum. Full of cans, I was selecting two to buy and donate to a food bank. As I was doing that, a large group of people came in through the narrow doors behind me, pushing me forward. I ended up being shoved into another guy’s back. Though I tried not to, I couldn’t help but plowing into him, almost knocking him over.

A big guy with short ginger hair, he was wearing a yellow-print shirt. He turned on me in anger. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I was trying to apologize and explain. At the same time, I had a can in my right hand (a can of peaches, as it was). If he came at me, I was going to swing that can at his head as hard as I could, but I hoped it didn’t come to that.

It seemed likely but as he advanced, a larger man stepped up between us. “He’s already apologized,” this man said to ginger head. “It wasn’t his fault. The crowd pushed him forward. Why don’t you drop it?”

I liked that in the midst of all this, a person was stepping up to help and protect me. Ginger head moved sullenly away and the big guy went on. Then I did the same, proceeding into the next part of the dream.

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A Three Cliché Dream

My subconscious and its dream offerings gave me a laugh this morning. As I emptied the dishwasher, I thought about them, and realized three things emerged from the dreams.

  1. I’m carrying baggage from my broken arm.
  2. I’m starting anew again.
  3. I need to clean out the cobwebs.

Clichés, am I right? Here’s how it unfolded.

In the beginning… I was preparing to travel. I had a large gray garment bag, which was a problem because there was a small car, being shared with others. I can fold my bag, I thought. But I couldn’t, because…my arm.

Yes, dream logic. It made sense in the dream. Perhaps I’ve lost grasp of some details that made the logic fit. In the dream, though, I thought, yes, I can fold the bag if I can protect my arm. From somewhere (the air?) I found a coil of clear, semi-rigid plastic. I could wrap that around my arm and protect it.

It took a few tries with the coil, but it was finally done. I folded my bag and put it into the back of the hatchback, off we went. Stops ensued. More people joined us. Some left us. I didn’t know any of them. We were just travelers going a common way.

My bag again became an issue. An older woman was trying to fit luggage into the car. My bag dominated. Everything else couldn’t. I told her, “No, just fold it in half.” She wouldn’t. I again went through finding the clear plastic coil, putting it over my arm, covering my arm to my elbow over my shirt, and then folding the bag in half.

I was now at work. I was the new man, not certain of where to sit or my role. But they were expecting me. I was warmly greeted. A boss (a white male) came by to show me where to sit but then was vague on what I was to do. It was something about writing on a computer. We seemed to be a sort of publishing organization.

I went off, doing dream things. When I came back, my stuff was moved. Minor annoyed (and worried, because maybe this was a sign that hiring me was a mistake), I found my stuff, then sought the boss, looking for an assignment. “Just type,” he told me. “Just write.”

About what? I asked back, but he waved me away and went off to do other things. I wandered, asking others what they’re working on but everyone was busy typing. I returned to my desk.

Everything was moved again. That worried me anew. An assistant came by. “Oh, you’re over here, now. We put you over here with like people.”

Following her, I grumbled, “Really? I’ve been moved three times? I haven’t even be here that long.” She laughed. “But three times is a charm, isn’t it?” Then she showed me my new space. It was much larger, cleaner, and…well, newer, than the other places. Not that they’d been bad, but this was a huge improvement.

Pleased, I sat down. My co-workers greeted me, which is where that segment ended.

I was next at another work office. As part of our routine, we were to play at mock fencing. That’s about the only way I can summarize it. I understood it in the dream — it was a long-standing tradition — but outside of the dream context, it makes little sense. I was searching for the right weapon to use in a duel. Pointed sticks were available, but I thought that would hurt others. I tried fashioning a foil out of tin, but it was flimsy and failed. Someone suggested I use a pencil. I wouldn’t, as I worried about lead breaking off under someone’s skin.

The boss (a white woman) needed to leave for an appointment. She had clients with her. I wanted to duel her. She was willing but we couldn’t find suitable weapons, and the clients were there. I began helping her with the clients, just retrieving stuff as she called it out. During this process, I came across areas thick with spider webs and cobwebs. As clients were there, I surreptitiously cleaned them up. Looking more sharply, I realized that such webs were all over the place. I decided, as soon as the clients leave, I was going around and cleaning them all away.

The end.

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