Tag: water

A Keys Dream

Randy, a friend who died years ago, showed up in my dreams again last night. A few years older than me, Randy died of colon cancer before his sixtieth birthday, after a twenty-year military career.

In last night’s dream, Randy and I were playing ‘Empire’. Empire was a computer game I played in Germany in 1989-1990. Randy had never played it so I was teaching him as we played. But we were playing the computer game while we stood in warm, salty ocean water. And though it was a computer game, the screen was on large sheets of scrolling white paper. I’d taught Randy the basics of exploring, conquering a place, and setting up production. Now I was teaching him strategy.

Meanwhile, someone tossed someone else a set of keys. The second person missed the keys. The keys fell into the ocean. I knew exactly where the keys had landed on the ocean floor but didn’t go after it. People with boats were arriving. The boats were oddly shaped, as if constructed from large Legos but missing pieces. The trucks bringing them in were in different color schemes, like red and black, and green and black, almost like auto racing teams, with numbers on the trucks and boats. Eyeing those as they passed, I tried placing where and how I knew the trucks.

Randy then interrupted to announce he was building submarines. We had a side conversation about that, with him explaining that he liked submarines and he didn’t care about strategy. Boat people arrived but worried whether their boats would float, alternating between confidence that they would and anxiety they wouldn’t.

Someone then mentioned the missing keys. I announced that I knew where they were and could get them.

Dream end.

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The Beard Dream

From last night’s plethora of dreams, one remained nailed in consciousness throughout the day. It was all about dealing with a beard. Yes, facial hair.

I was a young guy. Looked much different than my RW appearances. Was taller. Stockier, with a barrel chest. Much less hair and swarthier skin. Things were going on around me but I was in front of a sink of water and a mirror, with a single light over it. It was almost like a stage. People going around me would ask a question. I’d usually say, “Just a minute. Let me finish my beard.”

I was trying to find a beard that I liked. First, I shaved it all down really short. Very dark beard. We’re talking black ink. I examined myself and was dissatisfied. I shaved different swaths through the beard, trimming it back so it covered less of my face. Then, thinking I’d gone too far, I said, “No, I want more beard.” I dipped my hands in the sink of water. Raised the water to my face and spread it. Instant beard. Although I’d done it, I was surprised, saying to myself, “Oh, if that’s all it takes.”

Then I found that I could also erase the beard by just using the water. So I quit shaving or trimming it and instead dipped my fingers in the water and added or reduced the beard as desired until I found the look I liked. After a minute of appraisal in the mirror, turning my head back and forth, I announced, “Good,” and turned off the light.

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Another Dream About Pennies

I dreamed about pennies again. They seem to be a recurring dream theme for me. In this particular one, I was knee deep in shiny new pennies. They were moving like the ocean. Swells of pennies rose and fell. Penny waves lapped against me and broke on my thighs.

I had a pushbroom. I was expected to push the pennies to one side. I laughed at this, saying, “This is crazy. These pennies are like water. How am I supposed to sweep them?” I kept muttering to myself about that and didn’t make much effort at sweeping them. Thinking about how new they appeared and also wanting to feel them — because they moved like water — I scooped up a handful of pennies. I looked at the date on one and saw, 2022. I began looking at as many as I could, searching for other dates. All I found was 2022.

Holding the pushbroom out to one side, I looked across the sea of pennies under a clear, dark blue sky. Far away to one side was a stretch of rising land. The sun just about them, drifting toward setting. I laughed and thought, “This is so cool.”

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Thanksgiving & Wedding Dream

The dream began with a gathering and an agreement. I and two other men would take eight women around on a trip. Don, a friend, was one of the other men. I didn’t know the women but, dressed in white toga gowns, they seemed like friends.

We hopped into a big light blue convertible. I never clearly glimpsed the car, but the imprint gained was it was a large American machine from the sixties. A ’63 Chevy Impala comes to mind. Don’t know any that would fit eleven of us, though. The trip commenced with traffic lights, talk, and confusion about where we were and we were going, never with arguments, though. Just discussions. One stop was a busy water park. The other men and I hadn’t been participating in the women’s activities; we were their drivers and guides. Now, though, we stripped down to shorts and ran through the park, playing in water.

But, it was time for a wedding! That’s why we were here. And I was getting married. I needed to rush to shower and get into suitable wedding attire, which seemed to be black jeans with a black shirt. Dressing as I went, I ran to the church and — that was that. No ceremony ensued. Next that I knew, the wedding was over. The trip was finished.

The women said good-byes. Sitting on the car hood side by side, Don invited me on another trip. He was going and thought I’d be interested. Two trips were available. He described them. As he described the second (no words from it are remembered), I interjected, “That’s the one that I want.”

He smiled. “I thought you would. It’s their traditional thanksgiving, and I was pretty sure that you’d want to go.” We talked about the food. He was smiling, reassuring me, yes, there would be gravy, turkey with stuffing, and mash potatoes.

I grew hungry and excited. Agreeing that I wanted to go, we got into the shiny, light blue convertible with Don driving. The dream ended.

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Stealing Batteries Deam

I’d dream I was back with folks from my military time — my final assignment, actually — but we weren’t in the military. I’d started a new job and was pleased and happy. The bosses and co-workers all seemed to take a shine to me. Things were going well. Then (you knew it was coming), one co-worker asked me to put something into an envelope for him and stamp it secret. He gave me the something, adding as he walked away, “I need to take it with me when I leave, so if you could hurry it up.”

I was eager to please, so I set right about taking care of it. Putting something in an envelope and marking it…no prob!

But, the something was a package of batteries. Eight of them. They were about C sized. Each was bundled to function as two.

Confusion struck. I was fetching an envelope but was asking myself, what’s going on? Why am I doing this? I remembered that he wanted to stamp this secret. Secret? Why?

As I cottoned to what was up — he was stealing these batteries — the bosses came around. One was a short female who I once worked for. She was just chattering away with a big smile. I was nodding and smiling back while hiding the batteries as I saw the requesting co-worker give me an anxious look over her shoulder.

Time was running out. The boss wanted something else done. “Okay,” I agreed, “but I need to finish this first.”

She wanted to know what I was doing but then veered off to another work area. I hurried to put the batteries into the envelope, seal it, and stamp it. The first thing was done but then another supervisor, a guy I worked with at a start-up after retiring, came by to see what I was doing. I hid the envelope and chatted away as the operation around me began to close up for the day. I needed to hurry. I wanted to help this guy because he’d come to me, and I didn’t want to disappoint him, even if I did wonder, was it worth it? Why was he stealing batteries? How much did batteries cost?

Then, though, I gave up. Instead, I found myself in the kitchen. Most of the others were already gone. Dishes with half-eaten food on them were on the stainless steel sink counter. Another co-worker (also from my last assignment) said, “We need to clean this up.” So, we did. The last thing I remember was scrapping a half-eaten piece of pie from the plate into the trash and then turning to wash it in the sink as the water ran.

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The Adulting Dream

I felt like the sole adult in this dream, hence the title. I seemed to be visiting Mom’s home, at least, at first. It’s not like any house that she lived in. She was there, however, along with sisters, wife, and many others.

The first act found me looking around Mom’s home with dismay. She always kept a clean and organized house; this place, although big, didn’t fit that description. As others were talking, I stared at something in an upper corner of the room. It appeared to be a giant cobweb. I called that to Mom’s attention. When she went to clean it, she discovered that it was an old Halloween decoration that she’d put up. She thought it so pretty, she left it up there.

The family, including me, dispersed to do other things. I remained dissatisfied about the state of the house, and walked around looking for impressions to vet my conclusion. It seemed like people weren’t paying attention to it. Crossing into the dining room, I discovered the floor was soaking wet. So was the furniture. In fact, water was splashing on the floor through the open window. I gathered that the sprinkler had been turned out with a window left open, and that the sprinkler had been left running.

I fetched Mom to show her what was going on, telling her to walk into the room so that she could see for herself. When she exclaimed about the floor being wet, I showed her the open window and the sprinkler. Then I told her that this was what I meant by people not paying attention to details, not thinking.

That ended act one. The next act began in the same location, but with new features, people, and furniture. Young adults were being prepped for a test. I had an impression that I was a visiting uncle. I barely knew these four young people. They were experiencing trouble with some of the test prep. Every once in a while, though, they’d break out singing the Queen song, “Somebody to Love”. They did a good job of it, too. But singing that song was disrupting their test prep.

Moving in, I stopped the singing and reminded everyone that they were preparing for a test. Then I pulled out one of the books and put it on a table. The table was one of many, a square made for one person. But the four nieces and nephews pulled up chairs and sat around this one table as I explained what the problem was about and how to solve it. They picked it up quickly and then began studying in earnest. I made the suggestion that since the test was open book, they have the book opened to that particular page, ready. That thought that was a great idea.

I then backed away and observed to one of their parents, “They do know that they need to be at separate desks, don’t they, and have separate books?” After he confirmed that was true, I suggested that they go ahead and set up like that. They did that. I walked to the door to leave. As I did, one nephew began singing “Somebody to Love” again. As the others took up the song, I interrupted and reminded them that they needed to get ready for the test. Then I left.

Outside the place, I passed a small, pale yellow school. About a dozen teenage girls were in front of it, complaining that they were bored and had nothing to do. They seemed about the ages of my nieces and nephews, back getting ready for the test. These two groups should come together, I thought. They’d be good for one another.

I returned to the test area, intent on telling them that. As I came in, one nephew began singing, “Somebody to Love”.

Dream end.

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Three Mini-Dreams

The dreams had variety tonight. The essence of each:

  1. In a paddleboat on smooth water, circling a larger boat.
  2. Turned on by a gorgeous young naked woman.
  3. Tracking and registering the results of clinical vaccine trials.

The paddleboat one was shortest. It was also funny to me; I’d dreamed the other night that I was battling muddy water, a not-infrequent dream experience for me, but didn’t have any sort of water conveyance. Alone, I was in one of those little boats that you propel by cycling, as if you’re on a bicycle. Instead of turning wheels on ground, paddles through water move you on. It’s white and blue, in such good shape that it could be new. The water surface is a gorgeous dark indigo glass on a blue-blessed day. Sunshine and silence abound. A green tree line provides a distant horizon.

Paddling along without issue, I knew in the dream where I was going although on awakening, I don’t have any idea what the mission was. In the dream, I came alongside a structure. It’d arrive out of nowhere. I started paddling along the structure. White and red, it could have been a large, sprawling boat. Down by the water line, its structure offered a zigzagging series of platforms. As I took them in, I grasped that I needed to dock at one of them. Then I could just climb to where I wanted.

The young woman dream aroused me. First, I walked into a room where I found a young woman changing clothes. A big room, it was essentially empty and bland. Young, dusky, and voluptuous, the young woman’s thick hair hung straight down her back. She was totally naked. I was chagrinned to have come in on her. She was matter-of-fact. My wife was present and seemed indifferent to my arrival.

Later, my wife and I are in bed in our jammies. I’m spooning her. We say at the same time, “You’re so warm.” Feeling my erection pressing against her, she asked with an amused look over her shoulder, “Really?” Laughing, I answer, “Really.”

I’m then in bed with a friend, again in jammies. I’m spooning him. We both say, “You’re so warm,” and then laugh.

I once again walk into the room where the young woman has become naked while changing clothes. She’s alone. I smile at her and act flustered. She calls me on walking in on her, accusing me of being transparent and deliberate. I feebly try denying it, but can’t pull that off.

The final dream finds me in a secure building at the day’s end. It’s a cluttered and dark place. Secure filing cabinets with dials to open them are all over. Like others there, I’m getting ready to eave for the day when some shipments come in.

Two are for us. They’re vials. One set of vials have been used in clinical trials while the other are unused. Everything are numbered by lots. Both need to be signed into logs, which involves re-opening the safes. A woman, my boss, and I volunteer to do it. After the others leave, I tell her that I can do it all. Hesitating, she asks, “Are you sure?” “Yes,” I answer, so she leaves.

The vials are red, with a sharp needle attached to an end. As I handle the returned products, I accidently scratch my finger with one. Or did I? Even as I’m worrying, I’m not sure it happened. I’m also concerned about which set of vials it is. At first, I think that it was the used vials, which increases my anxiety. Then I investigate and conclude, no, that were the unused vials. Then, checking numbers again, I decide that it was the used ones, and then decide, no, they were the unused ones. I’m not sure at all but, again, there’s no real sign that I actually did anything to myself.

While I’m worrying and fretting, I’ve been working, opening the safes, making the entries in the logs, and securing the vials. But then, weirdly, I don’t know how to document that I opened the safes. I think I know what I’m supposed to do but can’t find the forms. I’m rifling through files, trying to find them. A friendly co-worker comes back in. I tell him that I can’t find the right forms. He starts searching; he can’t find them, either. As he’s looking, I’m babbling on about how I used to know this, and then recall more details. The co-worker has become irritated because he was just being friendly. Now he’s involved in a problem. Then I remember, oh, we’ve been looking inside the files when they’re attached to the outside of the safes, of course. Of course! How can you annotate what time you’ve closed the safe when the safe is already closed? How can it be verified as closed and locked if it’s not on the outside.

Others have returned to work and are asking what we’re doing. I shrug them off. By now, the co-worker is angry and embarrassed because he was looking inside. It makes him look like he doesn’t know what he was doing.

Dreams end.

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The Cannon Dream

A labyrinth of dreams finally culminated in the cannon segment. In it, after all the travails of the night’s previous dreams, I learned that they were looking for volunteers. These people would be shot out of a cannon and land in water somewhere halfway around the world. They couldn’t say where people would land.

The idea excited me. “Me! Me! Me!” I volunteered immediately. My wife and mother worried about where I would land, and how safe it was. I naively replied, “Well, they wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t safe.”

Which satisfied everyone. My wife was like, “Well, if that’s what you want to do.” Mom said (in that certain way that some mothers do), “Oh, you’ve already been chosen,” and dismissed it.

So it came to pass that without fanfare, I was fired from a cannon. I mean, there wasn’t any preparation, no drama, I was just literally fired from a cannon and then shooting through the sky.

From my POV, all sensations were absent. My eyes were closed. I thought, gee, I should be looking around because this is a unique event, but I didn’t. There wasn’t any wind, no sensation of movement at all. Then, I wondered if I should get ready to land. Should I point my feet before entering the water? If it’s deep water, will I go to the bottom and then need to spring back up?

I landed with a mild splash. The water wasn’t deep and was very warm and comfortable. Opening my eyes, I saw the water was a light aquarmarine. I wondered where I’d landed.

Others were there. The water was crowded. I marveled that I hadn’t landed on someone else. Most were naked young women swimming. Treading water, I reached up for support and discovered that it was the headboard for my bed.

I laughed. “Look, it’s my headboard. What are they chances?”

A naked woman nearby mocked me. “Yeah, what are the chances?”

“Seriously,” I said, but she swam off. I kept talking, though. “I’ve had this bed for fifteen years. What are the chances that I’d been shot halfway around the world and land in water and have my headboard right there?”

Nobody paid attention. They apparently weren’t impressed with any of it. That didn’t change anything; I’d enjoyed myself.

That dream segment ended. I eagerly carried on to the next.

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The Trump Dream Segment

In the middle of my dreams was a segment featuring Donald J. Trump.

We were evacuating somewhere. The reasons for that were unclear. It was a watery place, more like a large lake or ocean than river or flood.

I was somehow involved with organizing it because, it’s my dream, right? We’re following OPLAN 1067. I don’t know if such an operations plan exists, but that’s the dream’s claim. For that, we need aircraft.

They’re being acquired. This is like the planning phase of the evacuation.

Donald J. shows up. We all get respectful, waiting to let him speak. He says, “You know what your problem is. You got too many planes.”

We’re all puzzling this out. We’re following the OPLAN. OPLANs follow painstaking processes and are based on past learning experiences. The OPLAN dictates how many planes we should have.

Although I’m not the head honcho, I’m about to point this out to Trump when the head honcho does. “We’re following OPLAN 1067. It calls for us to have sixty-seven aircraft.”

Trump then replies, “What’s an OPLAN?”

That leaves us all gaping and speechless. I answer, “OPLAN is an acronym for operational plan, a formal plan to address a problem or situation.”

Getting testy, Trump replies, “I know what an OPLAN is.” Then he turns to leave and says again, “You have too many planes.”

Then he’s gone.

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The Energy Dream

Antsy and restless, my wife and I awaited an event. 

We were seated in chairs outdoors, on a corner, by a dark sea. She was across from me. A sharp, blustery wind and leaden sky frequently pierced by sunshine highlighted a roiling, uneven intensity.

The mood I felt permeated a growing crowd. Roving gangs and knots of teenagers prowled, seeking outlets and distractions. I frequently looked to the horizon, waiting for the change that we feared and expected. A young woman who I vaguely knew came and sat on my lap. First she tried cajoling me into buying her a car. My wife, opposite, made snarky comments about the girl to friends. The girl annoyed me. She then tried seducing me, pushing my annoyance to the point that I removed her, and got up to walk.

The girl followed me, making comments. I decided it would be important for us to have water for what was to come and went to find some. My search brought me to a welcome center. Made mostly of clean bright white plastic, a lone, awkward appearing manned the place.

He spoke to me but I mostly ignored him. Multiple water dispensers existed but there weren’t any containers. I found a tin thing which I repurposed, then filled it. I tasted the water; it was fine. Looking at it, I discovered fine black sediment suspended in it. Pouring that water out, I cleaned the vessel, refilled it, and hurried back to the corner.

The event seemed to be beginning. We all gathered, standing to watch the ocean. A tall dark storm lit by silvery white backlight sprawled across the horizon. As a general said, “Here it comes. It’s bigger than expected,” a stern wind struck.

Although the wind rocked me back, his comments soothed me. I was happy that it was finally beginning. The general said, “It’s going to take longer to come because it’s bigger than expected.”

I was nodding because I was okay with that. Now that it was beginning, everyone relaxed and watched. Drinking crystal clear water from my tin, I waited.

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