A Building Dream

Well, I dreamed my wife was driving the car. I was in the back seat of this dark green sedan beast. Weird, I was standing while my wife was sitting, sawing at the giant steering wheel. But my head was at her level. Oddly, the steering wheel was on the right, counter to the usual U.S. practice of having the wheel on the left side.

A gorgeous woman with a low top and cleavage displayed was on the seat behind me, wholly exciting me with her presence, trying to entice me to join her. I’m like, “That’s nuts!” My wife is driving us to either shopping or school. Note from the real-life side, my wife only drives me when my physical condition warrants it.

We stop. I climb out from the back seat. I ask my wife, “Where are we?” It seems familiar, like a beach we’ve visited but no beach is in sight. Instead, white pieces are all over the place.

I pick a few white pieces up with some WTF-self quizzing. They seem bigger than they were. At first, I thought them to be building blocks like the kind children use. Instead, these are as large as shoe boxes, but they’re light. Hardly weigh anything at all.

They’re all over the place, like wreckage. I can’t imagine what happened to cause it. Hurricane? Tornado? Both are feasible but what were the pieces part of and where were they before? I’m looking around, trying to place that.

A whim drives me to collect pieces. After doing that, I realize they can be put together and stacked as a wall. Amused, I do this for a bit. Finding and gathering more pieces, I put together corners, doorways, windows without much effort. I’ve been working a while in bright sunshine, a warm breeze coming along as a visitor. I was sweating and then realized I didn’t see my wife or the car. A little thinking about that progressed but I returned to my building effort. I wondered as I did if this thing I was building was strong enough to stand, and wondered, why am I even doing this? It seemed crazy.

Two other crazy aspects emerged as I worked. The building changed, becoming a real place. I was at once sure that I’d built it but also certain that I’d never done all the things I was seeing. Second, the day seemed to be progressing enormously slowly. I took some time to contemplate where the sun was, trying to think back to where it’d been when I began, but I couldn’t come up with any answer.

That’s where the dream ended.

December 9, 2025 4

A Free Food Dream Adventure

I was in a store with friends. This clean, mostly white, and well-lit place was like a fancy grocery store. No friends from real life were present but the people there were all known to me as friends. I knew that we were there for the second time. The first time, we’d made minor purchases. Liking the place, we returned to buy more.

So, we’re in line to pay, and we’re comparing how much our purchases will probably cost. Most of what we’re buying is food, especially cheese and bread, it seems like. The owner, a young and petite white woman with black curly hair and red lips, is behind a counter ringing up purchases.

I estimate to my friends that I’m buying several hundred dollars of food. Then it’s my turn and I step up to pay but the owner waves me off. She tells me that she knows who I am, that I’m a writer that she admires, and that she loves my books. I’m perplexed as I’ve only self-published a few books and had a few stories sold, so I tell her that I think she’s thinking of someone else. No, she insists, she knows me, knows who I am, and I will never need to pay for anything in her store. Her insistence stirs guilt in me; that’s not the way the system is supposed to work. I’m also flattered but doubtful. We talk more; she stays on point. I surrender and walk out without paying.

Dream end.

November 25, 2025 0

February 6, 2025 0

Wednesday’s Wandering Thoughts

I’d earlier reported that a friend was diagnosed with dementia.

That’s changed.

He doesn’t have dementia. Instead, he has blood cancer which affects his blood flow and the oxygen in his blood. His brain doesn’t get enough, causing cognitive issues.

It’s early days. While the news has changed, we’ll continue doing what we can to help and support him and his family and hope for the best. It’s all we can do, and it is so frustrating.

February 21, 2024 2

October 7, 2023 0

A Friend’s Parents Dream

I was a young man, as I often seem to be in my dreams these days. Visiting at a childhood friend’s home. He wasn’t there. His mother, Arlene — who is deceased in RL — was hosted several of us attending a local school. While visiting, we were all watching television. I settled down on the blue carpet and went to sleep.

I awoke sometime later. Sitting up, I discovered that I was in a short-sleeved black dress. A little more explanation is needed. The dress was black, but see-through. It buttoned in the front. It had wide seams which weren’t transparent, and front pockets which also weren’t transparent. The dress came down to my knees, and I was fully dressed, in the same clothes as before.

Standing, I wondered what had happened and how I’d come to be wearing that dress. I attempted to take take it off but the buttons couldn’t be undone. It was tight, but with some maneuvering, I managed to pull it up over my head. Just as I am finishing, I hear a soft tearing sound. That stops me from trying any longer. Just then, my friend’s mother comes in with a tray of food and drink, telling me that it’s time to get ready. She goes on to explain that she put that dress on me to stay warm, sets the tray down, and hastens to help me. As she pulls it over my head and off, she tells me that she hopes she can get this off without tearing it because it’s special to her. We then hear it tear more. Looking at it, she sees that it’s torn and is dismayed, but then tells me to eat because I need to shave, dress, and go.

I eat an egg salad sandwich from the tray and drink coffee, and then start dashing around. My clothes are upstairs but the bathroom I’m to use is down below. As I hustle around, going up and changing clothes, then going down and shaving, others arrrive. I hear that my friend’s father will be arriving at any moment. (He passed away in RL a few years ago.) I want to be dressed and ready to go before he gets there. But then, he comes in.

I’m called upstairs. As I go up the steps, someone else tells me that Fred — the father — and Arlene want to see me. I step into the dining room where they are. Fred has a box on the table, and is opening. As he says hello to me, Arlene explains that Fred just purchased his first CD player and she wanted to know if I had any CDs for him to play because he doesn’t have any. I tell them that I have just the thing and dash downstairs.

I’m thinking that I’ll loan them several of my classical music CDs, which will surprise them, thinking that it’s more like the kind of music that they would like, rather than the rock I listen to. But I brought my little CD case, and there’s no classical music in it. I select a few blues CD and take them back up to them. Grinning, I explain the whole thing about the classical music CD.

Dream end.

I’ve not seen my friend since my late teens. Oddly, I’ve dream of him since then, as well as his parents.

November 13, 2022 0

January 1, 2022 1

A Fishing Dream

A friend was taking me fishing. I was ignorant about what to do. He was providing me gear, bait, and instruction.

First, we had to get there. He gave me instructions, but we were driving separate cars. Both were white. It then developed into a quasi-race. Oddly, as we drove, he would sometimes be beside me in his car, and sometimes I’d be beside him in his car, talking, even though we were in separate cars.

We arrived at a place but stayed there only a short period. Being there mostly seemed to amount to me walking around behind him. Both of us were carrying our gear (and wore fishing hats). Smiling people tried talking to my buddy, offering advice, or just wanting to exchange fishing insights, but he was abrupt and dismissive to everyone. After leaving there, we went down a four lane white concrete highway. Parking in a lot, we needed to cross to the other side. He made a comment, “We can do this whenever we want, there’s no time limits, and we’re not racing.” Then he went and crossed. After considering the situation – no traffic was coming – I followed.

We went into a long, low building. Sounds of running water filled the space. Rows of blue plastic seats were set up for fishing. No else seemed to be fishing. A young man had a stack of white things enclosed in clear plastic bags. He offered them to us as we went by. “No,” my friend said with barely a look.

The man called after us, “They’ll give you support.”

I was intrigued, so I stopped. “What kind of support?”

The man explained that they could support your back and shoulder, and held one up for me to see. My friend had kept going. He called back, “We don’t need support, we’re already sitting in chairs.” I thought that made sense, but the young man replied, “This will aid your comfort and remove some of the strain.”

My friend answered, “We don’t need them,” but I said, laughing, “Well, I might need them.” That’s where the dream ended.

The dream reminded me of my father-in-law, Jim. He passed in December, 1991. I met him before I met my wife, his daughter. He and my father were best friends at the time. Dad had been stationed in Germany before being reassigned to DESC in Ohio, which was supported by Wright-Patterson AFB outside Dayton, Ohio. Dad had been assigned there before and had supplemented his military pay by working part-time for Jim at a grocery store.

I met Jim through fishing. He instructed me in my early fishing efforts after I moved in with Dad. I enjoyed fishing with Jim, and will even say that I never enjoyed fishing as much as I did with Jim.

April 18, 2021 0

Another Writing Dream

This one was long, complex, and layered. After thinking about all of it (an exercise in itself), just sharing a few segments.

I was at a writing retreat on an island. At one point, I was in a room with other writers. We all stopped to take a break. Many were out on the balcony in sunshine, watching fog roll in. Thinking about joining them, I went to the refrigerator to get a beer. The frig was fully stocked but I decided to pass and went back to writing.

Later, I took a break from writing, left my room, and went running around the island. It wasn’t a big item and writers were everywhere. I realized that’s how I’d been spending my time, writing, with breaks to run/get exercise and sunshine, and I was enjoying it.

I decided it was time to leave the island. I was almost done with my work in progress and decided I’d finish it elsewhere. After making initial arrangements for my flight out, I followed up at the front desk. An old but big white man, who was the owner, worked the desk. He asked me if I wanted food for my trip out. He spoke in a low, garbled voice. I was constantly asking him to repeat himself, leaning forward to hear him. He shoved a piece of paper at me and a new yellow pencil. “Fill this out!”

Looking at the paper, I answered, “Fill what out? There’s nothing there.” After pulling back the piece of paper, he realized that a form that was supposed to be attached was missing, found one, passed it to me, and then turned to helping others.

I couldn’t complete the form because the pencil wasn’t sharpened. New, it’d never been sharpened. Instead of trying to get the old man’s help, I found a used pencil. As I filled out the form, I discovered the food I was ordering would cost $1500, an amount I found shocking. I asked the old man, “How long is this flight going to take?” He didn’t answer. I decide in the dream that it takes a lot to leave writer’s island.

Paperwork done, I walked out of the office and down an outside walk. A young female writer, white, short dark hair, short in stature, came up and put her arm around my waist. I reciprocated with an arm around her shoulder. She and I walked like this, with her telling me how much she liked my writing and admired me.

There’s a period of driving around. I’m a passenger. The young female writer is the driver. She keeps going the wrong way down streets, concerning me. It’s only after the dream that I wonder how there’s so many cars and roads there when the retreat was originally a small island.

I realize I’m carrying half a book. A classic, it’s literally torn in half, with the final half missing. Someone asks about it. I explain that it was a gift from a friend, a joke. He told me that whenever he asks me how I’m doing, I always answer that I’m about half finished. He thought it was finished to give me half of a published book.

Later, I’m worried. I don’t remember packing my clothes, computer, etc. I’ve already checked out but we’re back by the office. I stop by and ask the old man if I can check my room to see if I left anything behind. He gives me the keys and says, “Help yourself.” I go to the wrong room. Realizing that my room number was six, I find and enter it. It’s still the wrong room. I remember that my room was up two flights.

I go up to the right room. My baggage is there. Everything is packed. As I’m walking around, looking, just to be certain, another writer enters. We chat while I’m searching the room. I find a large cache of papers behind the desk. They appear to have fallen there. Drawing them out, I realize they’re old and handwritten, and they’re not mine. As I comment on that, the other writer starts crumpling them up and throwing them away. I ask him why he’s doing that, and then follow up, “Don’t you want to read other writers to see what they’re doing?” He stops trashing the papers and begins trying to uncrumple everything, which makes me laugh.

I decide to shower and change clothes, but I leave the room door open. After leaving the shower, while I’m toweling off, I discover a young doe in the room. It’s missing the top half of its head. It’s bloodless but like its head has been sawn off above its eyes and its brain scooped out. Friends enter to tell me good-bye. I wrap a towel around my waist. I’m about to warn them about the deer when one friend mentions it, making a joke. I’m surprised; the deer is completely whole and fine. I wondered why I thought it was missing part of its head, and then decide I’m always looking for the worse, even when it’s not there.

That’s where the dream ended. As mentioned in the beginning, it was complex, and offered a lot to unpack.