Tag: walls

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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A WV Dream

Dreamed I was in West Virginia last night. An interesting twist to recent dream trends. I lived in WV for three years. My father had moved there as part of a business deal. I went with him, graduating high school there before joining the military back in 1974. I’ve been back a few times since. Dad no longer lives there.

In this dream, I was back as a guest, and was about twenty years old. Apparently some show that I created was going into production. It somehow involved WV. So I was there, soaking up local flavor. I was also mindful that many wanted to be part of the show and were trying to impress me. Much of what was to transpire would be recorded by a film crew following me around. But the crew wasn’t always around.

It was late afternoon on what felt and seemed like an early fall day, sunny with clouds. A young man wanted to take me around to show me the real WV. I was skeptical and nervous, actually a bit fearful, but I wanted this experience. So I said, “Okay, lead on.” Eagerly he drove me to another location in a dilapidated, smoking car. He talked through a broad grin and heavy accent the entire time. Was taking me to meet others and have a drink. Having parked, we were required to walk down a hill to a house. Three other young men, my host’s friends, met us. They seemed dubious and suspicious of me. Then, apparently realizing who I was, became eager to impress me. First, I was poured some clear drink that was a potent local vintage alcohol. They downed their shots and urged me to drink mine. I did with a wince, enduring a blaze down my gullet.

Next we walked to another location. They were all talking as we went. We came to an enclosure. My senses and thinking were overwhelmed by then. The enclosure looked muddy. Fenced in, it apparently presented some threat. They discussed it; I didn’t understand. One explained to me, “Carefully edge around this.” They were showing me where to go. Up along a wall. Over a small fence. Along another wall. They would go another way as a distraction.

I climbed over the cyclone fence. Footing is uneven. The space is narrow. Began going along a crumbling stone wall. The fall would only be five or six feet but they’d warned me not to fall. Suddenly, yelling. A woman is yelling at me. A barking dog races over the enclosure at me. The others, who were supposed to be creating the diversion, are up at the top, urging me to hurry. I speed up. The dog runs up and starts nipping at my legs. I get over the final fence. We all laugh about this.

We pack into a small car for a short drive. The experience has relieved tension. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. We’re more amicable and trusting. We take a short drive along a winding back road. Arrive at another’s place. Not sure if it’s a bar or a home. About twenty people are there, waiting to meet me. I’m walked around, introduced to people. They’re eyeing me, asking questions about the project. I’m laughing, comfortable and happy as I answer them.

Dream end

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Sunday’s Theme Music

I’ve been reading a lot about walls in recent months for some odd reason.

Walls. Are they needed? Do they work? Are they being built? How much do they cost? Can’t we just buy a DIY at Home Depot?

Wondering why there’s all this talk about walls was obviously an invitation for “Wonderwall” by Oasis (1995) to slip over and around my walls and into my stream.

It fits as a song for the times, though; wonderwall, in the modern urban sense, is about a person you’re infatuated with.

Lots of people seem infatuated with walls these days.

 

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The Cat Dream

Seems inevitable that I’d have a dream about cats. Four cats deign to let me live in the house with them. All were strays or left another house by their choice to come live with me. Besides them, Pepper from next door stays on our porch and wants me to feed her (which I do), and two other neighbor cats seek me for hand-outs. I’m a soft touch.

But when I started writing about the cat dream, I concluded the dream wasn’t about cats. They were symbols being used. The words I chose to explain what was happening indicated the dream was about other things.

It was another dream of chaos (like, straight out of the courts). So much was going on, and my dream started in the middle of it. I was carrying a cat (not one that I have, nor have ever had) from one end of a busy, hectic place, to another. People kept calling me over to come and see or do something, or help them out. I ended up multi-tasking, and ending up losing the cat.

Now the dream became a story about a flooftective. Calling the cat, asking others if they’d seen her, I walked around shaking a kibble box, my agenda re-arranged. Thinking I’d heard it back by my place, I went there.

The dream gets weird. My place didn’t have walls, but was framed for walls. Doors and windows had been installed, but there wasn’t a ceiling. There was a fireplace, and a wall-less bathroom. Instead of using it, I chose to go up the hill to a public restaurant, clean, but not convenient.

My place was also unbelievably disorganized, with boxes strewn about, including empty cracker boxes. Anyone who knows me will recognize how different that is from my real life.

Without walls, people walked in and out of my place at will, exasperating me. I became stern about stopping people as they did that. A cat fight erupted, distracting me again. As I hunted down those involved, I discovered a cat that wasn’t mine as at the fight’s center. He looked like my current cat, Tucker, with thick, black and white fur and a bushy tail. As I was talking to this cat, asking, “Who are you?” in a calm voice, I heard a woman calling for Harold. While I called over to her, asking if her cat was black and white, the black and white cat left. I decided it was probably Harold.

The dream, or my memory of it, ended.

***

Writing about the dream, I found myself using expressions like ‘multi-tasking’.  I ended up applying it to my writing efforts.

Other clues were there, like being side-tracked, the missing walls, and the sense of chaos and disorganization. See, while writing this series this week, I became diverted into a fifth book in it. I soon recognized it would be a stand-alone novel that shared the concept and setting, much like the relationship between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Then, I realize how much I enjoy the creative side of writing. I dislike the rest of it. I don’t mind editing and revising – that’s like solving puzzles – but the business side is anathema to me. So, if I don’t finish, I’m working on a series, but there’s no pressure to finish and publish.

Cunning, aren’t I?

So, after thinking of the dream and situation, I knew that I had to stop working on the new, fifth novel, and finish the original series as envisioned. I can later go back to the fifth novel, if I want.

Right?

Right.

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