Another Car Dream

Such a pleasant and satisfying dream last night. Nothing special to it.

A friend had built a car. Although it resembled a circa 1969 Porsche 911S, he’d built that body on a new 991 chassis. Its engine was a turbocharged 4.5 liter flat six. Fat tired but inconspicuous, it was a dainty jewel.

I was buying it from him, Gene, for next to nothing. The only thing that bothered me was its color, bright red. For the rest of the dream, it was a silvery slate blue that reflected everything in its high gleam.

Opening the hood, I checked out the engine bay. He’d done professional work, and the car’s finish was like Porsche had built it. I was extremely pleased.

After acquiring it, I picked up two friends. We were meeting two other friends at a restaurant and going to a concert. The car’s power and grace as I drove stunned me. It was so smooth and controlled, far beyond anything that I’d ever driven. The car’s quiet, unencumbered speed impressed my passengers.

Arriving at the restaurant, we met the other two. I checked out their cars. One was driving a current generation Lexus. The other drove an Infiniti. That pleased me. As I told the friends I’d picked up, there was five of us. We wanted to take one car to make it all easier, and couldn’t go in my new Porsche.

The restaurant was an expensive and charming place sitting by itself in a green field with a parking lot. As it’d just opened for dinner, we were the only customers. We sat down and ordered a light dinner. I had some paperwork from the car. Essentially, the builder had typed up an owner’s manual. I read through it as we ate.

Then, time to go, we headed out to the cars. Plans were made; one car was being left at the restaurant.  I was taking my car home, just up the road. We’d take the third car, the Lexus, to the concert.

Newer Porsches were now in the parking lot. None noticed my gem. I was experimenting with the accelerator, checking its responsiveness. The engine barked and snarled like a racing car, instantly answering the call for power with revs as I trundled it past the other parked cars. At one point, I had to stop to permit another to back out, which I did willingly, feeling cheerful and accommodating toward others.

Then we were exiting, turning left, going up a highway on a hill and around a curve. I quickly raced past others. The tach was redlined at 10,200, very high for a street car. The turbo was indicated on the tach as coming on at 8,200, which was also high. I remembered reading that, and also talking to the builder. He’d made it that high because he didn’t want to be dealing with turbo lag. With four and a half liters, it had power to do anything needed without the turbos.

I wanted to open the turbos and feel it. I was being cautious, though, intimidated by the power that I knew it had. I’d driven turbocharged vehicles and knew that the turbo could catch you out. You had to be aware when you used it.

I also knew that I needed to go home because that’s where the others were expecting me. Then I remembered, shit, I’d left my paperwork back at the restaurant.

Executing a u-turn, I returned to the restaurant. The dining room was now filled. Someone was at the table we’d used but I could see the paperwork. I told the hostess the issue and headed across to the table. By the time I arrived, the paperwork was gone. I addressed the people, a young man and woman there, and asked them about the paperwork. They hadn’t seen it.

Turning around, I realized that I was at the wrong table. The right one was behind me. And there was the paperwork. A businessman had just picked it up and told me that he was just moving it, it was there when he’d arrived. At my request, he handed it to me.

The dream ended.

An Arresting Dream

I was explaining an analogy to a young deceased relative.

First, though, I was arrested.

I’d made the decision to take actions to be arrested. This, I thought, would be for the best. So, I returned to the table on a stand where I’d been working with others. I wrote a not on a small yellow Postit using a heavy black marker, just a few words, and then I made a phone call, and then sat back to be arrested.

Others were confused, first about my return, because I would be arrested if I returned, and then that I’d returned knowing that I’d be arrested. The police arrived, and then my wife. I was walked in handcuffs by the police. My wife and others followed behind me as my wife explained that I was being arrested.

Once arrested, I was processed in a dream blip and then released to confinement to clear myself. I knew that the gates were closing at midnight. I had twenty minutes to get out or I’d need to wait until morning. I didn’t want to wait because I knew where I had to go and do to clear myself.

I hastened to dress and clean up. A black man was there, my cellmate. He was sitting at a card table, eating and watching television. I set myself up at another available card table and went off to brush my teeth.

The bathroom was open. Two sets of sinks and identical red toothbrushes were in a cup. One must be my cellmate’s, I figure. I picked one and looked at it. It seemed used, so that should be his.

The segment ended.

Next, I was sitting in a room, explaining something to my cousin, Jeff. Younger than me, he’d died almost twenty years ago. I told him, “Your abdomen is part of your torso, but your torso is not part of your abdomen. See how it works?”

He didn’t, so I did more. I said, “You’re from Texas. Texas is part of the United States but the United States is not part of Texas. One must contain the other to be part of it. Like, your hand. Your finger is part of your hand but your hand is not part of your finger.”

He remained confused. An officer I’d worked with in 1983, Walt, had entered. Listening, he’d been mulling it over. Walt, said, “Well, I don’t know if your analogy works on all levels.”

I replied, “I’m talking about physical aspects. I’ll specify the physical.”

Walt said, “Oh, alright, then,” and my cousin nodded, understanding.

The dream ended.

 

Grappling with Dreams

My recent series of dreams have involved structures and family. Two that stand out were about my father and my in-laws.

The dream about my father had bronze red overtones to everything. We were underground, in a cave. Alive (as he is), he was selecting his coffin and burial site. His burial site was a strange building. It had been some sort of business. I was asking him, “This is where you want to be buried?” It seemed so bizarre to me.

Dad barely took notice of my question. He was busy organizing his burial process and closing the deal for the building. Passing out leaflets (which were red), he told me, “You’re one of the pallbearers but you won’t be carrying me.”

I said, “Where is this place?” Someone pointed out a map on wall. I went over to the map and studied it, determining that it was on the California-Nevada border. Knowing where it was, I stepped outside to see it. I discovered I was standing on top of a hill. Below was a huge quarry operation. Shaped in a circle or oval, it was miles wide.

“This is a mine,” I said, looking for Dad. “Why would you want to be buried in a mine?”

The dream ended.

The next night, I dreamed that I was visiting with my sister-in-law and her husband. Other relatives from my wife’s side were present, as was my wife. My mother- and father-in-law have both passed away, and we were at their old home. Only this home was nothing like their home.

Everyone was turning to me and saying, “What should we do with this?” The house was like an faintly familiar maze of rooms and additions. I told everyone, “We need to determine what we have.” Everyone agreed to that, but asked, “How?”

I said, “Well, first, we’ll need to explore.”

Officials came up to us to talk about the house and our plans. I told them of my plan, and they approved. They then said that I should contact a specific person. While he was a teammate, we’d never been close and he was a year behind me. “He’ll certify the findings for you,” the officials said.

I agreed to do that. Then I began leading the family around the dwelling. I said, “I’m going to turn on light switches. Everyone watch to see what lights up. We need to open every door and find every switch.” All agreed.

I did as planned. Whenever I opened a door, I’d find the switch and turn on the lights. Surprising reveals followed. Old rooms and additions that we didn’t know about were revealed. Some were old offices, with filing cabinets and seats. Although old, they showed signs of recent use. Scenes like this, of different rooms that we didn’t know about, happened again and again.

Finished, we went outside. My sister-in-law’s husband came up to me. He said, “Now you know what we faced. Not so easy, is it?” He was laughing, and agreeing, I laughed, too.

Studying the house, I said, “I never knew that it looked like this.” It was a sprawling, eclectic design of multiple levels. Many were new and some were old. As I looked at it, I said, “I know what to do.”

The dream ended.

I’ve dreamed about these in-laws a few times in the past two weeks. In other dreams, I was driving them. I’ve dreamed about my wife’s parents’ home numerous times in the past few years, but the dream and home were always different. The commonality is always that the house surprises me, I’m exploring it, and everyone is looking at me to decide what to do.

 

A Soul-sucking Dream

I thought I’d made it through the dark tunnel once again. I endure the dark tunnel every month, a cycle of conspiracy between hormones, energy, genetics, and whatever else is in my frothy concoction of life. Last night’s dreams proved some tunnel remained to be traversed.

Bottom-lining one of the dreams without dwelling on details, I dreamed a younger self was being given an opportunity by a man named Rob. Just as he was celebrating that, another person came up with a better opportunity. That involved three positions (unspecified in the dream) but the potential was so exciting. I was pleased to be offered such an opportunity. The man offering it told me he had to make some calls, but that was just a formality. He’d get back to me, he said, and went off.

Meanwhile, I was working a job and doing a damn fine job of it – cleaning and detailing cars, a job I didn’t hate, but I was ready to move on. Off on the sidelines of my dream-life, I coped with a validation process. All males were required to be validated. We were given one inch cubes. They were different colors. A raised number signified the top. My number was four. My cube was green.

I stepped into line behind a few young boys. Another young boy was there. He didn’t know what to do. I told him I’d help him.

The process began. As we moved forward, a longer line formed behind us. The process involved us taking our cube up to a man in a lab coat. He put the cube on a reader, then he peered at something, made some annotations, and handed the cube back. He never said a word.

My turn arrived. Another man stepped out from the line’s middle, walked up to the lab man, and gave him his cube. “No,” I said. Marching up, I removed his cube and handed it to him. I pointed to the front of the line, and said, “That’s the order. We’ve all been waiting. It was my turn. You have to wait like the rest of us.”

I was seething, partly because the lab idiot running it hadn’t noticed or done anything about it.

Afterward, validated by lab-coat idiot, I took the boy out with me after he’d been validated, too. I told him, “We’re validated.” He didn’t understand what that meant, so I explained the word’s definition while admitting that I didn’t understand what it meant in this context. Then I found where he was to go and sent him on his way.

Afterward, I returned to another job I had. This was in a chaotic place. I decided to organize the processes. Part of this involved men pissing. They were pissing everywhere. I determined that if we pissed in one place, that piss could be collected and dumped, and everything would be a lot better. To that end, I found a small, square metal receptacle to be a pee-holder. Setting it up in a specific spot, I spread the word, piss here. As I caught others pissing elsewhere, I’d re-direct them to piss at the place I’d established.

When it was time for the piss receptor to be emptied, I discovered it’d been leaking. Piss was all over the dark carpet. This upset me, but I thought, I need to find a better location and receptacle. I was about to do so when the man who’d offered me the great position arrived.

“Walk with me,” he told me. “This way. Let’s get something to eat.” I told him that I’d just eaten but I agreed to walk with him.

We passed under an arch and arrived at an avenue. There he said, “I have some news for you.” I was optimistic and expecting to hear that I was due to start the new position, but hearing his tone and reading his face, I knew otherwise.

“It’s not happening, is it?” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Well, I guess I’ll go with the job Rob offered.”

The man gave me a silent look.

“What?” I said, but I knew the look.

“That dried up, too,” he said.

Heavy disappointment beset me. “I can’t believe this,” I said. “I don’t mind what I’m doing, but I was looking forward to doing more, to being more.”

“I know,” he said. “Sorry.”

He departed. I returned to polishing a car. I realized it was my father’s red 1969 Thunderbird. I’m not going anywhere, I thought.

The dream ended.

The dream depressed me (as all of last night’s dreams did). I woke up thinking, for whom does the bell tolls? It tolls for me, followed by a rant about facing facts about not having writing talent, being a miserable writer, etc., to the point that I encouraged myself to give up.

I know though, that I’m not the best judge of myself. I know that I can’t predict the fickle future. This is just some feeling sorry for myself bottom of the trash can crap. I can indulge in it, but I can’t let it guide me.

Two Dreams

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

 

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