Tag: red

The Kennedy Dream

I was in the White House. My role there was to escort Jackie Kennedy to an event where President John F. Kennedy was expected to also attend. I was young; they were white haired and elderly.

It was a kind of chaotic scene. We left the formal White House. There were about thirty of us. Using a secret corridor, we went into an annex. White walls and floors, with white lights, it was like a warehouse but it was completely empty. There seemed to be two levels as well.

I ended up chatting with the first lady. Just chit chat. Then finger sandwiches were served.

By then, JFK arrived. He and the first lady walked across the space and embraced. Both were using canes. They looked like they were in their nineties.

We then engaged on our reason to be there: flying model airplanes. One was a sort of large model biplane. Red, with yellow wings. It was slow and easy to fly. We took turns with it, flying it through the large space, around a corner and down another corridor and back.

The second model aircraft was a gray B-52. Smaller than the biplane, it zoomed around with a fighter jet’s the speed and agility. It really impressed us all and I had a ball flying it. It was very easy to control.

After a while, we were tired. Boredom got its fingers into us. We ate more and napped on the floor. Then I was awakened. Mrs. K was ready to leave. She wanted me as her escort. The President was already gone.

I walked her out of the annex and back to the White House. Then I left. I later saw her on the street. I waved at her but she didn’t see me.

Dream end.

4

The Fish Dream

I dreamed I was a fish. Apparently a youngish fish, I was gold and orange with red highlights. Swimming alone, I became aware that I had a pretty good memory, for a fish. I developed understanding that there were fish swimming around who unknowingly carried messages on their skin, and that there were some fish who carried memories and knowledge in their minds. All of these kinds of memories and knowledge had a short life and would fade, even though it all lasted longer than most of the other fish ever remembered anything. I began hunting out knowledge and memory fish after I established that I could transfer their knowledge to myself, keep it longer, and use it. I observed how several knowledge fish would swim together in schools, and other fish would join them, using information from knowledge fish to make decisions. But schools of fish avoided other schools, even if they were the same kind of fish. So knowledge would often not get spread past a school, keeping all of the fished dumbed down.

I began resolving to change that, to become a fish that spread and shared knowledge between different kinds and schools of fish. I felt that making all of us smarter would help preserve knowledge and maybe improve our lives.

Then the dream took a turn where an individual was lost and confused, and it sort of dissolved.

Then I went into another dream. In it, I was back to driving some silver, stunningly expensive sports car. I was alone in that one, and just driving along a blacktop road. Rising and falling, the road cut through an emerald green land under a blue sky. I would sometimes stop and exit the car just to gaze at the land and feel the sun and wind. I was much younger, but better looker than real life, with a dark beard. I never saw anyone else in the dream; just some dark birds silently flyin through the sky.

1

Three Pieces of Dream

A long and chaotic dream won the morning memory. There was another dream about having sex with a French woman in a desert after being accused of some crime, but it’s not a sharply recalled.

First I was with a group of friends, all males. We’d been out having a good time in the outdoors and were now filthy. Many of these people were real life familiars from across my stretch of existence and life stages. I was young and it was sunny. Many more groups of similiar people were out there on a large, dusty, gold-sun plain, like knots of bison congregating around a larger herd.

A sudden call to go get a beer put us in motion. We ran along, laughing and eager. We were going to have a beer! “Don’t worry, I have chits from last night,” I shouted, holding up discolored pieces of white paper. I reached a table and sat, still outside, but now on a plateau. My friends were coming but were behind. I pulled out the chits and discovered, they were chits; they were just torn pieces of paper. Some fluttered out of my hand and dropped into the mud as my friends arrived and I explained, “I don’t have chits after all.”

We all set out to go somewhere and were now downtown in what looked like a small city. Without preamble, I decided that I’d had enough and started in another direction. I was soon running in the streets alone but as I turned a corner, I saw ‘my crowd’ running in parallel in the other direction. They saw and recognized me and called out, but I’d kept going in the other direction, alone.

I arrived at my wife’s mother’s house. I knew that’s what it was even though it was nothing like any of her places in real life. My wife was there, along with my sister-in-law. She was sitting crossed-legged on the ground. As I see her in that scene after awakening, she looks as she did as a young pregnant woman in a photo taken of her when she lived in New Mexico. Giving no warning, she pulled her breast to feed an infant. I was a little surprised but then went, okay, she’s comfortable with it, and my wife, beside me, showed no reaction, so I should be okay, too.

I went off because I noticed my mother-in-law was busy digging. In real life, she passed away about six years ago. She was about the age she was when I first met her, mid-forties, in my dream. I spoke with her briefly but don’t remember what we said, and then wandered around the yard to see what she was doing. She’d dug a moat around her house. Then, I thought, she expanded an existing moat. It wasn’t large as moats go, about a yard wide, and didn’t seem deep. Water lilies floated in places. I discovered little tiles. Two inches square, I realized that she was going to ourline her moat with them.

The first one I turned over was scarlet. I put it in place on the moat to see what it looked like. Next, I found one that was yellow. I took out the red one and put the the yellow one in. It was a soft yellow, not as bright as a lemon. Next, I found a sage green tile. As I was going to put it in, I heard a man calling. A tall male stranger, dressed in a tie with a rust colored corduroy and tan pants and large, handlebar mustache was walking up, telling me how much he liked the yellow tile because it was a bold and striking color, and he approved my choice. I was just beginning to explain to him what was going on when another man in a charcoal business suit came up, urging me to go with the first color, the red, because it looked sharp against the water and grass. As these two began talking about the tiles, I turned over a third one, which was sage green. That was my preference, but I also thought that a pattern using all three colors could be made.

I went back to tell my MIL that, which is where the dream ended.

0

A Race Car Dream

I was a young man. And I was at some kind of car race where I was to be a participant. Several emerging factors swirled and fell and rose. Nobody was expecting me. I wasn’t sure what was going on. I then confirmed, gosh, I am in this race.

Employing strange dream logic, the race was sometimes played as a card game with a board track. Other times, it seemed like a slot car setup, but then it was sometimes full-sized race cars. I’d seamlessly skip between those motifs but the dream itself was mostly centered on race control where I’d check the time sheets, find out where I was on the track, and learn my position. The people populating race control were all tall, older, and white. Most seemed British. I never saw any of the cars so I can’t comment on their colors or livery. But I would identify them. Like I told some once that another driver was piloting a Porsche 917 and another was driving a P3 Ferrari. Someone else was wheeling the Silk Cut Jaguar XJ9.

I swapped cars. I don’t know what I was driving but I suddenly announced, grinning, “I’m driving a Ford GT.” This is a car which won LeMans and the world championship in the mid 1960s and helped seduce me as a racing fan when I was nine. I didn’t specify which variant I was driving.

I learned that I’d qualified fourth but some bureaucratic snafu shuffled me to the pack’s tail end. That didn’t bother me; I shrugged it off with a grin. I was confident that I would win, as I’d qualified fourth with minimal effort. Now, recalling, I actually did have one segment where I was in the car, on the track, during the race, passing clusters of other cars. I then left the car, blink, and was back at race control to check my standing. They didn’t know who I was. I was certain I was leading but they dismissed it. I was told that I’d done something incorrectly and my laps hadn’t been counted. I didn’t know I was supposed to do that, I protested, but that wasn’t their issue.

None of that fazed me. Grinning, I told them, “But I have all these chits.” The chits were small red paper rectangles, like the old-time ticket stubs given at movies in decades past. I received them every time I completed a lap. As I told them about the chits, I held up a fistful of them. Expressing astonishment, they counted the chits and announced that I was in the lead.

I met the news with a happy grin and readied myself to keep racing. Dream end.

I enjoyed discovering this footage of the 1966 LeMans race featuring the Ford GTs. Nice to hear the voices of Bruce McLaren, Dan Gurney, Denis Hulme, etc., and see them. Of course, the staged Ford 1-2-3 finish was made famous in the movie Ford vs. Ferrari, where Ken Miles (played by Christian Bale) was first across the finish line but was deemed not to be the winner because another car started further back, so it covered more distance.

0

The Swimming Dream

Awoke from a dream where I was swimming. Underwater with my eyes open, I Iooked up at the water’s surface from below and thought, that’s really scummy water. It was some sort of swimming hole and crowded with people. I broke the water’s surface.

I was young, in my teens, with others also in their teens. A girl my age was watching as I broke the water. She wore a red bathing suit. Grinning at her, I said something but she turned and moved away. I was with four or five other guys but none are memorable. We were talking about naming something. I had an idea about naming something and suggested it to them. They wanted more conversation about it. I told them, let’s get over in shallow water and talk about it, because we were all treading water and talking was difficult.

I tried swimming away then but dropped into the water. I thought I’d hit the bottom but the water was deeper than expected. I let myself drop and settle until my foot hit the bottom, and then kicked off hard.

I awoke groaning. I had surgery on my ankle a month ago and am still in recovery. It was now telegraphing pain and discomfort. I believe that while I was dreaming, I moved my legs and foot in real life, and kicked out, hitting something hard with my injured appendage.

0

Sunday’s Theme Music

Mood: coolbreezin’

It’s a rarity for us, an overcast summer day. Sunday, August 18, 2024, is also cool. No blue sky and diffused sunshine. Good air quality. Fresh, cool air is a glorious combo.

It’s 59 F now at my house, 71 F inside. Little more rain is expected, and a high of 78 degrees F is forecast.

The cats are lovin’ it (cue that music from those commercials by Mickey D, thanks to The Neurons). Didn’t like it yesterday. Well, Papi didn’t like it. It rained, the wind jumped up, and thunder rolled, cracked, and grumbled. First sound of thunder, Papi was in the house, hanging out in his safe space, which is the bathroom of our bedroom. Tucker, though — ha. Wind was blowing, thunder is adding loud noises, rain is falling, and Tucker is under his bush sleeping space in the backyard, wondering what’s going on. Finally got up, stretched, and sauntered over to the patio, sat, and washed. I petted him; yes, he was wet. He can be a mellow kitty.

More and more polls have Vice President Harris leading Trump. Demonstrating his amazing leadership skills, honed in the playground of his mind, Trump responded with name calling and claims that he’s better looking. As to the latter, no; just no.

Although Hurricane Ernesto didn’t strike the U.S., another house fell into the house in the Grand Banks and NYC closed its beaches due to the currents. That’s the seventh house in four years falling into the ocean in that little NC community, BTW.

Trump had a rally and confused the state he was in. Mentioned North Carolina when he was in Pennsylvania. The headline is, “Donald Trump ‘Confusing’ State He’s In At Rally Raises Questions”. Really? That raised questions? His claims about the airports being captured during the American Revolutionary War didn’t raise questions? Jan 6 didn’t raise questions? Walking out with an upside-down Bible didn’t raise questions? Referring to President Obama when he was supposed to be talking about Ms Clinton didn’t raise questions back in 2023, along with other confusion, or the more recent time, when he confused Willie Brown and Jerry Brown and made up a story about a scary incident didn’t raise questions? His 34 convictions didn’t raise question?

Let’s face it: there will be some who never raise questions about Trump. It seems to include a large portion of the media, and most of the GOP, and almost all of the MAGA base.

Trump also once again disrespected military members. This time he made a ridiculous comparison between the Medal of Freedom and the Medal of Honor. Trump’s claim is that the Medal of Freedom is “much better”. But what do you expect from a coward and bully like him, someone who lacks empathy and brags about how brave he is without ever facing danger?

Continuing with a theme of colors in song titles for my daily theme music has The Neurons excited. “Red!” they shouted today. “Red Rain. Little Red Corvette! Lady in Red! Red Rubber Ball!” I’m sure there are more but a contingent of The Neurons managed to get “Red Red Wine” going in the morning mental music stream (Trademark redlined).

Neil Diamond wrote “Red Red Wine” and performed it, but I enjoy UB40’s 1983 reggae style much better. That’s the one The Neurons are playing in the mental stream.

I’m already drinking me precious — I mean, my coffee. Be strong, remain positive, and vote blue. Here’s the video. Cheers

0

The Red Tricycle Dream

I was with some sort of military unit. A bunch of military units wre there, all living side-by-side with their families, including children in this big sort of hanger. It was a sea of chaos to my eyes.

The guy in charge held up a large white envelope. “Someone needs to go around and collect for the charities.”

“I’ll do it,” I said. Otherwise, it seemed like I was doing nothing but waiting.

Directions about what to do were in the envelope, along with a list of the units. My task was to go around and hit them up for money, not just the units, but some individuals in the units. Weirdly, I was to always get eight donations. That struck me because a few years ago, I had a series of dreams in which eight was always significant.

I began my collections, and fumbled my way through, telling others what I was doing and why, getting the required monies. After doing three, I thought, this is ridiculous. I was walking, and with the throngs of milling people and distances, snails would have outraced me. Going back and turning in my collection, I complained, “I need some way to get around faster.”

Someone gave me a little red tricycle to use, the kind of transpo suited to a toddler. I sat on the seat and grabbed the grips on the silver handlebars. The grips were white, with pink and white tassels hanhing off them. Applying my feet to the pedals, I tried to make progress, but it was ridiculous, with my knees rising above the handlebars and sometimes slamming into them.

Getting off the trike, I considered my transportation. “I need to make some changes,” I said, “but how?”

Like heat lightning on a summer evening, the idea came: I will think of the changes I want and make them happen.

First, the three-wheeler needed to be larger to fit my adultness. I picked up the thing and thought that until the trike was sufficiently sized. Next, I thought, I want the front wheel further out, like a chopper. Thought and done. Then, sitting on it again, I thought, I want the seat to be like a chair and reclined. Done.

Next, did I really need to pedal? Flying over this crowd and from unit to unit would make my task deeply easier. So I thought of wings, and then decided, yes, this can fly. Somewhere along that process, I gained a flying helmet with googles and a white scarf.

I took off on a practice run, flying around the hanger, and it was smooth as an icy pond. In quick order, I was flying to the units on my rounds. Some of the unit personnel knew me at one and asked, “How did you get that flying bike?”

I told them, “Someone gave me a red tricycle and I changed it.”

“But how did you change it?”

“I just thought of what I wanted,” I replied. “And that made it happen.”

4

A Threefer: The Alligators, Awards, and Colrng Dream

After an era of dreaming where episodic and movie dreams that didn’t feature me dominated, dreams about me have punched back. Last night delivered a dream in three parts.

Part One began with me visiting with my sister-in-law and her boyfriend in Florida. Nice evening, etc, as we strolled along a via after enjoying a meal.

Two small alligators ran toward me. Each was about three feet long. I dodged them while warning others about the alligators’ presence. My SIL said something like, “Oh, those are my pets.”

They could be her pets but that didn’t stop the two from attacking me. As I danced and dodged them, one somehow leaped up and latched onto my back. The one chomping on me had hold of my shirt and a little of my muscle and skin.

I didn’t feel any pain, but I was terrified and wanted it gone. Whirling in circles and shouting for help, I tried getting free. The dinosaur-like beast budging.

I saw its partner still on the cement walk. “Oh, that one is dead,” someone said.

Retrieving the stiff dead ‘gator, I used it as a weapon, swinging over my shoulders to bludgeon the one hanging on. The tenacious reptile hung on. I finally shoved myself backwards into a wall as hard as I can. Crushing the alligator between me and the wall with enough force, it released me but then lunged for my neck. Twisting and ducking, I thwacked it with the dead gator and evaded its teeth. Then I ran away.

Slowing up, I found myself inside a sort of strip mall. Someone who I recognized as a brother (but not my RL brother), a large guy with black hair, was in there sitting at a white folding table.

He said, “Hey, they came out with the awards. I won.”

I said, “Congratulations, well done.”

Picking up the paper, he replied, “Wow, it says that you won, and that’s your ninth time in a row. That’s a new record.”

“Let me see.” I peered over his shoulder and read the news as he gushed on about how proud he was of me. He had a carrying voice. Others were soon crowding around, congratulating me. Disliking all the attention, I thanked them all, said good-byes, and hurried away.

Trying to avoid further attention, I ducked inside a darkened auditorium. Letters lit up in amber light on the far end. COLRNG. With a flicker of thought, I said, “Coloring.”

A man in a tux and top hat, carrying a cane, said, “Very good. Would you like to try another?”

Confusion settled on me. Seeing that word wasn’t hard, which I told him. He replied that most people couldn’t and urged me to try another. Try another? There wasn’t any trying in it. It seemed liked the weirdest game I’d ever heard of, but I agreed because I wanted to see this out.

Letters came up in blue neon. COLRNG. “Coloring,” I said. The man gushed about how brilliant I was. It must be a scam, I decided.

We moved on through green, yellow, and orange. It was COLRNG every time. After the orange letters, he informed me that I’d won a first level prize. Would I like to try for more?

“Sure.”

We went into another room. Letters in blue came up. COLRING. “Coloring,” I said.

The master of ceremonies boomed out, “You won! Would you like to go for the grand prize?”

“Yes. Sure, why not?”

He led me to another room. There, in big red neon letters, was COLRNG. “Coloring,” I said.

“That’s right! Congratulations.” The man in the top hat went on about how I’d won.

“What exactly have I won?” I asked. I expected some small and cheap offering.

“Fame, fortune,” the man in the tux cried.

“Right,” I responded, and left.

Entering a narrow hallway, I moved on. People coming the other way gasped and pointed at me in excitement. Bewildered, I asked, “What is it? What’s going on?”

They bubbled on about being big fans of mind, asking for autographs and selfies. Remaining bewildered, I signed and posed, sure that it was mistaken identity. More people rushed up, forming a queue around me. Security arrived to install order.

Dream end.

0

Another Military Dream

Been some months since I’ve had a military dream. I was in the military for twenty-one years, and the military formed my life structure for those years. I first joined in October, 1975, so I shouldn’t be surprised that The Neurons are fostering dreams about that segment of my life.

The dream found me a young man again. I was traveling in my office work blues with my fruit salad on my chest, and going alone. I’d arrived somewhere to make a connection with a civilian airline. I was expected but needed to get to the airline counter to check in, pay for the ticket, receive the ticket and boarding pass, and check my bag.

In a line to enter the terminal with others, I thought I heard my last name called. I looked around at the twenty-something individuals outside doing things. Some seemed to be looking for something but that’s not indicative of anything in an airport. No one called me again. I decided I’d imagined it.

Then I heard it again. Twice. Looking again, I called out, “Did anyone call Seidel?”

People weren’t paying attention. Raising my voice, I repeated my question. Others shook their heads.

By now, the line into the terminal had moved on without me. My flight time was getting disturbing close and I was way behind where I wanted to be.

I heard my name called again. It seemed like it was right behind me.

I whirled. A woman in a marigold shirt was there. I asked, “Did you say something? Are you looking for someone?”

She replied, “I said, ‘sigh’.”

‘Sigh’ sounds just like the first syllable of my last name. “Why did you say that?” I asked her.

She gestured at the scenery beyond the airport. Blue skies, and an ocean vista of whitecaps and splashed sunshine. “Look how beautiful it is. How can I not sigh?”

A young woman exited the building. Walking up to me, she said, “I’ve been calling you.” She handed me my ticket.

I was dumbfounded. “I thought I still had to pay.”

She shook her head while backing away. “It’s already paid for.” Pivoted, she went back into the terminal.

Pleased with that development, I rationalized that I must have been hearing my name on a PA system, although I didn’t see any speakers. No matter; one problem was solved. I just needed to check my bag and head for the gate.

Another woman had set up a taped off area on the land with red masking tape. For some reasons that I don’t understand, I decided that was for getting my baggage ready to be checked.

I went over and spread the bag on the ground and repacked it. The woman came up and asked me what I was doing. Apologetically, I explained. She waved that off and pointed to where I should take my bag.

That’s where the dream ended.

2

The Dream of Getting Lost

This dream began with my wife naked in front of me. She was on her knees in a room when I walked in. We flirted and I began kissing her and nibbling her ear lobes. She said, “Let’s move this into the other room.” Aroused and ready, I agreed.

We went into the other room, which was the living room. She said, “I’ll be right back.”

While she was gone, I stripped off my clothes. When she returned, she was fully dressed and had two other women with her. I knew both of them.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

My wife replied, “My book club is arriving.”

Well, that took me aback but I didn’t feel like now was the time to discuss it. Discreetly, I made my way out.

Dressing in the other room, I took off through the local area. It turned out to be a village built on several hills thick with pine and oak trees. The roads were narrow and winding, but I was enjoying my walk.

Going up a steep hill, I found a huge border of tall, trimmed bushes. Slipping through them, I discovered myself at a palatial estate.

A young boy approached. He seemed like he was ten years old. We briefly tossed a baseball back and forth. He told me that this was his house and invited me in to see it. “It’s like a museum,” he finished.

My curiousity had grown. The house presented a huge, jumbled, modern appearance of arches and glass, with multiple types of materials finishing the facade, complementing the many large, dark windows.

I entered the house with him. The boy was right; the first room we entered was tall and broad. Art and aniquities filled the space. Walking around, I gawked at art pieces. Several were Picasso pieces, from the cubist and blue periods. I was astounded to find them in a house in a small village and thought the people who owned the property must be very wealthy.

The boy who was my host had left. Nervous about being alone there, I was accosted by a woman coming down a large spiral staircase. Brunette, slender, not tall, and very attractive, she wore blue jeans and a red top. She seemed to be about the same age as me.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

I explained why I was there. Her son came down and verified my story. Nervous, I decided to leave. She protested that I didn’t need to leave. We began walking around, looking at art and antiques. Standing very close to me, she told about how they came to own the pieces. Acting on impulse, I kissed her.

I prepared to be slapped or rush out, and apologize. In response, she took my hand behind a screen and kissed me. I was both excited and worried. She kept leading me into nooks and niches, kissing me and encouraging my advances.

Then her son said, “Hi, Dad.”

I was horrified that the woman’s husband was with us. Dressed in black slacks and a white shirt, he was silver haired with black streaks, slightly taller than myself, and a few years older.

The woman introduced me to him. I thought any dalliance with the woman was over, but she continued leading me to secluded places, where we made out with teenagers. I saw the husban suspiciously eyeing me. Not wanting a confrontation, I left.

The wife caught up with me outside and gave me her number, asking me to call her so we can meet and finish what we started. I was dubious. The whole thing was crazy. I left her without promising anything but kept the number, sticking it into a pocket.

Darkened skies had taken over while I inside. Now going up another hill past throngs of people shopping in many small shops and boutiques, I remembered that a book store was up the hill and headed there to buy a book for my wife. After chatting with the owner, I purchased the book and headed down another stretch of hill. It was later and darker, and I wasn’t sure where I was. Thinking I knew a shortcut, I took a few turns.

I ended up completely lost in a maze of small white shops along an alley. Big raindrops began striking me and splattering along the ground. Stopping at a bakery, I bought pastries for me and my wife. The rain intensified while I was in the bakery. As I opened the door to leave, the shopkeeper urged me to stay inside until the rain stopped.

I declined. Going out, I was quickly drenched. I still didn’t know where I was and kicked myself for not asking for directions at the bakery. I kept going, though, believing that I would find my way. It didn’t help that the sun was behind clouds, and the rain was so thick that I couldn’t see far.

Then, unexpectedly, I saw two trees and knew where I was. Seeing my house, I hurried to the covered front porch. Sopping wet, I stood on the porch, ate a pastry, and watched the rain as dusk heralded night’s entrance.

2

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