Three Dream Shorts

Three dreams recalled from last night.

Bottle of whiskey.

The stone-lined path.

Wanted.

Bottle of whiskey. I was with dreams friends — folks known in a dream but not in RL. My dream wife was with me, and we were visiting in one of their homes. It was the collection point, for we were going out to dinner and then have some drinks and fun somewhere. It was a small group, just six or seven people, and the place where we met was a tidy but small, modern apartment.

We were sitting around a table with a white cloth covering it. The host entered. Opening a package, he said, “I got this in the mail today. It’s a prize I won.” He unboxed a crystal bottle of whiskey.

All were impressed. He poured his each a tumbler of his prize for us to sample. I drank mine and thought was amazing. So smooth, and slightly sweet. He offered more, which I accepted. Then, time to go. We walked down to a restaurant with my buddy taking his prize whiskey along. When he reached the restaurant, he poured other fluid into his whiskey bottle, appalling me. I wanted no more after that. Then, the, the bottle changed, with the bottle’s bottom growing rounder, until it would no longer stand upright, but tipped over. After the bottle was straightened three times, it fell over and broke.

The end.

The stone-lined path. I was out with my father, who was with others. I saw him and decided I wanted to avoid him. I could do this because we were outside, under an Interstate bridge. Huge pylons were holding it up. I kept hiding behind them.

Dad was busy doing something. Curiosity bettering me, I craned out to see. He had made a three-foot wide path in the dirt. Now he was lining it with rocks which he found. Seeing me, he called out, “Come help me, Michael. You’ll be good at this.” I went and began helping him lay the stones. While I was doing that, he took me and held me close to him. I felt embarrassed. He said, “I know that you avoid me but I want you to know how much I love you and how proud you make me feel.”

Dream end.

Wanted.

My wife and I were living in a small and cluttered apartment. We delivered a disagreement about how things should be arranged, so I said, I’m going to live in another place.

I left and went down a broad staircase, looking for another place. Women began approaching me, appealing to me to have sex. Some became very aggressive, shoving themselves against me, grabbing me, or passionately trying to kiss me. I kept telling them, “No, this is not going to happen.” They would give up and others would show up.

I went back up to my apartment with my wife. She was happily going about, doing something, dressed in her sweat clothes. I remained irritated with her and asked why she was acting as she was. She didn’t answer, so I left in exasperation. Another woman, in a white sundress with auburn curls highlighted blonde, told me that she wanted to take my clothes off and suggested with go back to her place. I told her, “No. Just leave me alone.”

Dream end

Sundry Sunday

  1. Typing with one hand is a challenge. Fortunately, my right hand is dominant, and it’s okay. Also fortunately, this isn’t permanent. Tedious process, though. Seven hundred words a day is my current limit. Meanwhile, the muses are running amuck with story ideas. I considered (and haven’t discarded) the idea of writing with a pen in a notebook. Anything to keep the tales moving, hey?
  2. Haven’t been drinking coffee. First, wanted to rest and sleep. Second, read to avoid caffeine to promote healing broken bones. So, no coffee, no alcohol, and no chocolate. Had dropped the latter from my diet after I discovered what it does to my prostate. Thinking about drinking coffee tomorrow, as I’m weaning myself off the Percocet. Only had one Perc today, three yesterday. Four are prescribed.
  3. My walking has declined. Been spending most of my time abed. Reached eight thousand steps for the last three days, ten thousand on the last two. I have a long way to go.
  4. Poor spouse. She’s doing such a terrific job, doing everything, and complaining. This is my fifth trauma in our fifty years together (boyfriend and hubby). In order, cut off tip of my toe, mono, broken neck, dislocated wrist, and this. She should’ve vetted me better. In fairness, I had mono when stationed in the Philippines, and she wasn’t with me. One trauma a decade average; is that normal?
  5. The cats on that first night and morning were so sweet. I usually feed them. With daybreak, I asked my wife to do that, but the cats refused to go and eat. She brought the food in to them. Nope; they weren’t eating. Wasn’t till I got up a few hours later that they ate. Number one and two cat continued to stay with me through the day. Their loyalty and concern flatters me.
  6. I feel for the rest of America, enduring a heat wave. Our temps are brushing ninety in Ashland, quite bearable, as night temps fall into the mid-fifties.

The Trump Badge Dream

Didn’t know how to label this dream. Had a little bit of multiple things, but one piece finally struck me as the oddest. So…

In the beginning…my wife and I were in townhome. We owned it and that’s where we lived. A lovely place, not anything brilliant, but modern and comfortable. Details past the rooms were the dream took place aren’t known. The dream was mospstly in the living room, beside a dining room and kitchen, a foyer adjacent to the living room, and the balcony, a large covered space accessible through a slider in the living room.

Cats and kittens are present. They’re busy, having fun. I’m sometimes petting them, sometimes feeding them. They’re like background.

My wife and I are talking about fixing our place up, changing some tiles, painting, minor things. We leave the place, going down the ground level (our place is on the third (top) floor). We meet friends on the green and cross to another building. Looking back, we see that, OMG, the gutter system just fell away. We’re horrified.

Only in retrospect do I see a dream paradox; we were living on the top floor; I knew that when I was in our place. Yet, when we see the gutters (drainspouts, etc.), we see them fail on a neighbors’ place above us. Odd, but I didn’t even notice it when it happened in the dream.

The gutter system itself was odd, too, consisting of a number of standard (in the U.S.) aluminum gutters along the roof but also spouts going down the side of the people. We didn’t think anything odd of them in the dream, though; it’s just in retrospect, again, that they don’t really fit what’s standard.

They had fallen away. We were horrified. What are we going to do? We must fix this. There’s also concern about the roof. Roof repairs are needed. A meeting is called to address it. We head that way.

Along the way, we’re ‘informed’ that the people above us are going to take care of the gutter and roof. They see it as their problem. Okay, great, we understand, but shouldn’t we shoulder some of the burden? My wife and I agree that we should, and make plans to approach the neighbor to inform them.

We arrive at the building where the meeting is being held. Going in, I realize that I have a badge, a photo identification, on a lanyard around my neck. Flipping it over, I see that I have a photo of Donald Trump, POTUS, with his name under. I don’t know how I came to have that (but it is a dream, innit?)

Walking into the room, I know that identification is wrong. I wait to be challenged, and it amuses me. I’m so amused, that I joke (in a poor imitation of Trump), “Nobody worry, there’s nothing to worry about, I’ll take care of it, I’m the greatest authority on roofs and gutters in the world.”

I’m holding my Trump badge up as I say that. Someone tells me that roofing and gutter experts are present, but I wave them off, continuing in my Trump impersonation, “They don’t know half of what I know. They know nothing.”

Nobody is getting the joke. I’m being hushed because several women in black uniforms (they look like police officers but lack insignia) are finishing up a conference call on an unrelated matter.

As I stop, watching them and waiting, the dream ends.

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