A NASCAR Dream

I knew that I was attending a NASCAR race, though which wasn’t apparent, as I never saw the track, cars, driver, or race. I was with my wife and hundreds of others. We were cozy in a tunnel, under a blanket or tarp, with rain falling outside the tunnel. My wife and I were cuddling and kissing but she was concerned about my girlfriend’s location. She didn’t like my girlfriend and didn’t want her to find us.

My wife spotted my GF walking our way. Hurriedly she moved away from me and hid, urging me to hide, too, which I did. We decided that we needed to get out of there. We got into our long silver minivan. It featured a luxurious cream-colored interior. My wife and I sat in the back row of the long vehicle, kissing a bit.

She said, “We need to go.”

I answered, “Okay.”

We realized that other cars had pulled in on either side. We wouldn’t open the doors. I said, “That’s okay, I’ll drive from back here.”

Putting the car in gear, I reached over the seats and took the steering wheel and gently accelerated forward. We started moving toward another car. My control wasn’t that good. I went to brake and shouted, “I can’t find the brake. I don’t know where it’s at. I can’t see it and I can’t feel it.”

We somehow stopped. I said, “I need to climb over the seats so I can drive.”

Dream end.

An Odd Dream

I had an odd dream. My wife and I were in our house. It’s not our RL house nor any place where I’ve lived but I know in the dream that it’s mine. For some reason, there’s a small black kitten there. All legs and ears, with a short, pointed tail, he’s an energetic whirlwind, battling everything, prancing and spinning, on the attack, crabbing and racing around. It delighted me. “Look at his energy,” I said. “He’s amazing.”

Friends were moving away. My wife announced, “I want a new house. Come on.” I began protesting about it, asking, right now, looking for reasons why, etc. She was non-communicative. I get in the car with her, still trying to talk with her about it, and she ends up saying that she wants a smaller house, and she wants us to drive around looking for it. I have a small off-white kitten with me. The cat is basically sleeping on me.

We get to place where she wants to stop and look for a home. After parking, we’re walking to the place when she thinks she sees someone she knows. She just wants to say hello, she says, rushing off. I tell her not to be too long because I know how she is. Then I wander into a place.

It’s pretty non-descript. I put the white kitten down. It runs around, playing kitten games. Meanwhile, a young girl comes up and strikes me on the back with a flat metal object. It’s not quite a sword or any weapon I’ve ever seen. A young boy comes up and tries doing the same. The boy then explains that they’re playing a game, it’s part of a bigger game, and they get points by striking people. I take them on, encouraging them to strike more boldly and quickly. After a little of this, I recover the white kitten. The kitten and I lie down under a blanket for a nap.

My wife finally returns, calling for me. I sit up with the kitten. My wife tells me that she ‘still has feelings’ for this other person, someone she’s not seen in decades.

I just explode. “Fine. I’m tired of this,” I say. “Do what you want. I’m gone.”

Dream end.

The Divorce & Money Dream

My wife and I divorced. We then went on a vacation together, where we stayed in a mid-range luxury condo. Her sisters were there, in adjoining places, along with their children. We were all younger than in RL by thirty years or so. My wife – B – and I had dinner and then attended a presentation on the environment and climate change in a huge, packed auditorium lit with golden chandeliers. The speaker was a good-looking man with a gold tan who had bestselling books on the subjects. My wife met him after the presentation. They fell in love and married.

I went back to my condo. My wife came to visit. We could see into her new husband’s place, as it was next door. Large and modern, it featured realms of glass. Golden lights lit it inside. B told me that the home was enormous, taking up two entire floors of the luxury townhomes next door, and that her new husband was dying. He passed the next day, leaving everything to B. She announced that as part of that, she was receiving over $13,000 a month in royalties.

I was happy for her but startled by that amount. We’d been there for almost a week and I needed to leave soon. I didn’t have reservations to fly out but had a day and a half left before I needed to get back so I decided not to make reservations yet. I was very busy at that point. The condo had become a little cluttered with piles of coins. My nieces and nephews began collecting them and taking them to my sisters-in-law and wife, who kneeled on the carpet divided the piles of coins among themselves. This didn’t worry or bother me because I’d discovered large caches of cash which belonged to me. I was happy for them to take the coins, but every time I turned around, I discovered another pile of coins.

Then, oh no, I was late for leaving and I hadn’t made a reservation! I chastised myself, thinking if I had made reservations, I wouldn’t be late because I would have had more structure. I succeed more with structure.

A man came by and informed me that I needed to leave, and that if I didn’t I would be fined. I laughed at the threat and noted that I had cash on hand and my ex was receiving $13,000 a month in royalties. The man left. I told the rest of my party that I needed to leave and would be departing shortly. My ex-wife said something back about the need to take care of her new inheritance. She was to go into her ‘new place’ to inventory its contents. I asked her about the hold up, and she said, “There’s a lot of places,” and held up keys. One key ring with keys were hanging on another key ring of keys. “He has places all over town. And you should see the cars.”

Dream end

The Secret Magazines Dream

I was in my mid-forties. My wife and I had decided to clean out and organize a home office space. It seemed to be a semi-detached garage. The cinder-brick walls were pale yellow, a broken concrete and dirt floor was underfoot, and there were several large windows.

We’d lived in this place for a while, but several new people had moved in, and we were becoming acquainted with other neighbors. The office had a very large bathroom, also painted yellow, with a single naked bulb hanging down in the middle. I was in there with six neighbors, all men, with the door shut, discussing people we knew in common. One very tall man — I came up to his chest — said, “Hey, do you know Hylton?” I gleefully replied, “I know Hylton, really tall guy, right?”

I asked everyone if they would leave the bathroom, questioning why we were all in there. After that, I returned to the office. The office had a pale-yellow desk and matching file cabinets and printer stand. They could have been painted from the same can of paint as the walls. I began emptying all the drawers. I was hurrying because I’d hidden Playboy Magazines from my wife in some of the drawers. I didn’t want her to find them. After emptying the drawers, I frantically raced around, trying to find a new place to hide them. What to do! What to do! I could hear her talking in the other room.

She came in. I shoved the magazines into a box and shoved it under the desk. She said, “Oh, you’ve already emptied all the drawers. Good. Let’s go through everything and decide what to keep and throw away.”

I said, “I already did that. We just need to put things away. I can do that by myself. You can go do other things.”

But she disagreed, insistently she was staying there.

A man arrived in the garage next to the office. White, in his mid-forties, he had curly coal-black hair with a matching thick beard and was wearing a blue ball cap and matching overalls. I know this because I could see him over like a sort of divider. I asked, “Who are you?”

My wife said, “This is so and so. I hired him to help us clean and organize.”

I replied, “I have this handled. We don’t need any help.”

But she ignored me, going into the garage area with the man to talk about what he could do to help.

Okay, she was out the room. I resumed my attempt to hide my magazines. There were only four, so I thought it shouldn’t be hard. Then I thought, I haven’t looked at these in years, why do I want to keep them? I also questioned, why should I have to hide them from her? But I knew the reason was that she hated Playboy because of how it sexualized and objectified women.

I quit trying to hide them. My wife entered, saw the magazines, and threw a fit. I told her I was throwing them away, but she ranted about me having them and hiding them. Shrugging that off, I went outside to check on the cats. I had two young ones and wanted to ensure they were okay. I heard a dog barking. Looking over a hedge down into the neighbor’s yard, I saw a large German Shepherd running around. Well, I needed to keep the cats in, then!

I decided to cross the street to get my mail. The street was just a narrow dirt lane but my mailbox was on the other side. A middle-aged white woman was coming down the street on a blue bicycle. I waited for her to go by, but she just drew up and stopped right before reaching me. I was incredulous; she was blocking traffic, but seemed totally indifferent. After a moment, she shifted her bike to go to the mailboxes, the same ones where I was going. A large gray truck was waiting for her to go by, and several other people were waiting, too. But she just did what she wanted, oblivious to what was going on around her. Indignant, I crossed the street to the mailbox. As I reached the other side, she pedaled away.

Dream end.

The Help Dream

Sunshine streamed in through large windows. I was younger and installing something involving wires in my home’s living room when I asked my wife for help. I needed to go back into a small space and I wanted her to hand the wires through to me. She asked me if I could do it by myself. I countered, I could, but she was there, and that made it easier.

She said, “How would you do it if I wasn’t here?”

I replied, “I have a ball of twine. I’d tie the wires’ ends to the string, and then tape it so it wouldn’t pull loose, and then just pull it through.”

Turning away, she answered, “Then why don’t you do that? Just do it yourself.”

A Train Dream

Yeah, I know what train dreams supposedly signify in some circles. This is different. Also, this isn’t about the rock group called Train.

I was high on a hillside. Turning, I looked left over my shoulder and down into a green valley. As I further turned and looked, I saw a city in the green valley. Blmues and silver dominated the city. While I watched, moving closer, I understood that they were trains. What I had first thought of as a network of roads were trains. Trains were going in every direction, at different levels in a beautifully synchronized dance. Most trains were short, with a stubby engine and then two or three long cars, but some trains were ten to twelve cars in length. None seemed like a super train.

For a period, I just watched the trains, getting a feel for their travel, seeing how none touched the ground, that there were no tracks, that areas were set up where the trains stopped, how they didn’t have wheels.

Then, I was down close to the trains, moving toward my train. I knew that no one owned any land. We all lived in trains and stayed on the move. Some trains were full of extended families. You bought an engine and car and added on as the family grew, even incorporating businesses into your train.

Then, dream shift, my wife and I exited our train. It was day, a little cloudy. We were on muddy lowlands by a beach. The tide was out. We planned to go tide pooling. But large black rocks stole my attention. Going up a hill, I discovered it the rock was a statue. More dotted the land. Ah, we’re on Easter Island, I understood.

I hurried back down the hill to tell my wife. She was milling along the beach. Other trains and people had arrived. I recognized my wife’s brother-in-law and snuck up on him, surprising him. We were up on a slight elevation, looking down, where his wife and son were. His son’s wife wasn’t there, but my late mother-in-law was. All of them were not far away from their train, a small, beige engine with a single, short beige car. I said to him, “Oh, you brought all of them with you.”

He didn’t reply, and then I was down by my wife and my train. The train was a pretty chrome blue, very new and sleek. I walked along it, smiling and looking around as I thought, “This is going to take me a long way.”

Then I stopped and faced the choppy waters of a dark blue sea.

Dream end.

Three Dream Vignettes

I experienced three highly detailed, vivid dreams last night, all in a row, flowing from one to the other. First up.

I’m in a car driving in a city in the late afternoon to early evening. I’ve come up to a large and busy intersection. The light is red. I have friends in other cars. We’re all going somewhere. My wife is with me in the car.

I think the light is green and go forward. In a flash, like it’s a film being shown, I see cutaways to friends in other cars saying, “Why is Michael going? The light is red. He shouldn’t be going.” They blow their horns.

I’m driving through the intersection. My wife shouts, “What are you doing? The light is red.”

I’m looking up through the windshield. The light is red, but I thought it was a green light. I’m certain that I saw one.

The traffic turning left against us is light. The drivers of those cars are aware that I’m not doing something right. They give me space and distance. No one is hurt except me and my pride. What is wrong with me?

I pull over to the curb. I’m alone in the car. I’m trying to understand why I thought there was a green light. I look up in time to see a young driver execute in the other direction. He’s driving a mid-sixties Pontiac GTO. Classic muscle car. It’s in impressive condition, with a well-maintained, shiny body. As I watch, this young white guy, maybe seventeen years old, does a U turn and hits the side of my car.

I can’t believe this. He’s pulled over. I get out of my car and look at the damage. My car is silver. The damage is light, toward the rear quarter panel. I approach him, and tell him, “You know the drill. License, registration, insurance.” He’s crying because he just got his license. He knows he’ll face trouble. I feel sympathy for him.

My wife comes up. I ask for the camera. She starts making demands about how this will be handled, wanting me to make promises. We get into an argument. She won’t give me the camera. Irritated, I find my computer to take pictures. I know I can, but, the computer is missing its two AA batteries needed for the camera aspect. But, I have batteries in another part of the computer, use those and take the photos needed.

Number two.

I’m talking to a friend and mentioned something about the Chevy El Camino. I ask him if he knows what they are and how they look. He’s not familiar with it, so I tell him I’ll draw a picture of one. For whatever reason, I’m referring to the fourth-generation design from the early to mid 1970s. I’m explaining the design details as I draw it, talking about the front grill, and how it went from a single headlight to a double-stacked headlight on either side. I realize that I’m drawing on top of another drawing someone has done. I’m astonished. How did I not see that?

I don’t want to draw on another’s drawing. It’s a landscape, sort of a primitive style executed in charcoal. I admire it, erase my drawing, and find another piece of paper. I think it’s blank but as I begin drawing again, I see that there is a drawing on it.

I’m amazed. Why can’t I see those drawings before I begin drawing?

Number three.

We’ve arrived at a huge factory. Besides the factory, it has a large administrative/office section. I’m with a party of friends, all male. I think there are twenty of us. None of them are people known from RL but I know all of them in the dream.

A young brunette woman with a ponytail is showing us around the building. When we walk into one part, we men all start laughing. A tall space, it’s divided into sections and cubicles and is stacked from floor to ceiling with mechanical equipment and electronic gear. I exclaim, “This is exactly the kind of place that I used to work in.” The other men are saying the same thing. We’re all laughing and agreeing, it’s just like where we used to work. We just walk around, talking about the environment. I follow the path, remembering where my cubicle would have been located. In RL, I never worked in a place like this, but in the dream, I turn a corner, and there is my old workstation. Pointing it out to the rest, I laugh. When they see my station, they go off and start finding their own old workstations. How is this possible, we wonder, because we all worked in different places?

The Talking Cat Dream

It is mostly such a mundane dream. My wife and I are outside our home. We’re youngish, roaming about in our middle years. This is not the house we live in, nor a place we’ve ever lived in, but easily recognized as a standard, pleasant American middle class dream place, part of a planned development, a few stories tall, with a yard and neighbors in like houses. Not quite homes cut from the same design, but homogenized with individual flares and nuances. Our home is stucco and off-white.

As I say, we were outside, in sunny weather, in the backyard. Our cats walk about, being cats. One began scratching his claws on a headboard. “No,” I chase him away, telling my wife, “Don’t let him scratch this.” I set about repairing it. Adding a strip of wire grid that will keep murder mittens from scarring the wood. I pursue this past time for a period. It’s more tedious than I expected.

Railroad tracks are laid not far from our backyard. I’m up in the house, on the second floor, looking down when a train comes by. It’s an old-fashioned steam locomotive. I can see into the neighbor’s backyard on the right. They have a little train, about knee high, just an engine and coal car, that goes out and greets the train when it passes. I see this several times in the dream and conclude that the neighbors have a motion sensor along the rails. Or maybe they’re just sitting inside, waiting for a train. I never see them, though I know the man is bald, in his late fifties/early sixties, white and wears glasses and flannel shirts.

I’m back in the backyard, working in the bed headboard. It’s an old piece but mass produced, one we purchased from J.C. Penney when we were young, with decoupage flowers.

The cat, a ginger, starts talking to me. His enunciation isn’t very good but it’s clear enough that I know that he’s talking about birds. I snort this away, amused. Cats and birds are like sun and sky. The cat insists, “You have to see these birds, Michael.”

I follow the cat just to appease him. We go down a sloping meadow to a small cottage surrounded by glossy dark green bushes. “There they are,” the cat tells me.

I hear the birds before I see them and know that they’re parrots. Five of them, green, red, blue, and yellow prominent among them, flock toward us, chatting at us while coming up to see what and who we are. I worry about the cat and birds fighting and hurting one another, so I’m wary and cautious. But the birds interest me. I tell the cat that they’re parrots. He’s intrigued. I tell the birds that the animal with me is a cat and that he and I live up the hill from them.

I then see a snake. Don’t know what kind it is. It moves fast and is gone. I worry again: will it bite or harm me, the cat, the birds? I tell the cat, “There’s a snake here, watch it.” He’s immediately interested in trying to find it.

I retreat back up to my house with him, away from the colorful, noisy parrots. Back in my yard, I tell my wife, “There are parrots down there. Come down and see them.”

That’s where it ends.

A Commnication Dream

I was traveling alone. Between flights, I was staying at a hotel. The hotel was pleasant, and I was in a mini suite. It was a smooth trip. I had everything I needed and all was working. My fight was at 6:35 AM. I thought that was perfect; I always prefer traveling early. I made my plans, working backward, getting there ninety minutes before the flight, traveling to the airport, checking out of the hotel. Meanwhile, I passed time by having dinner, surfing the net, having a drink, and socializing with strangers. All smooth, under control, relaxed. I decide to dress, check out, and head for the airport. But before I do, I’ll check emails. I found that my wife had sent me messages but that I’d missed them. She wants me to call.

I check out and call her on the way to the airport. The connection is horrible. She’s angy and upset. It sounds like she’s telling me someone died. I set my phone down. It gets misplaced but two woman come up with it as I’m searching for it. The phone has a code on it in red numbers: 752. I somehow understand that this a code to lock the phone because a problem has been detected. I’m exasperated because I don’t think the phone has a problem, and I need to use it now. But using it requires me to call corporate to get it unlocked. I’m confused about where to call because I don’t work. Is it IBM, ISS, Network ICE, Tyco, some other corporation who employed me?

Somehow, though, using my computer, I manage to get the help needed to unlock the phone. It’s still plenty of time before my flight. I call my wife; she tells me my brother-in-law died. Who? Which? Give me details. Instead, she chastises me because I’d not called her in several days. I realize that she’s right, that I hadn’t called or emailed her in almost seven days.

The dream ends.

Two Directions Dream

The dream upset me. First was one with the usual military overtones. Superintendent of a command post, fixing it up, blah, blah, blah. I experience so many dreams of that ilk.

It segued into a road trip dream. I was in one car, a red convertible, top up, with a friend. It was a shiny, impressive car. My wife was with a female friend and a coupe in another car. The friend and I in the red car were talking about where we were going, when we were getting there, when we should leave. We agreed, we were prepared to leave; let’s go.

The other car had been parked beside us. I got out to go speak with them and discovered them gone.

Shock surprise went through me. I returned to the car. “They left,” I told my friend.

“They left?” He was as incredulous as me. “Where’d they go?”

“I don’t know.”

I called my wife. After she said, “Hello,” I asked, “Where are you guys? Where’d you go?”

She laughed. “We went to go have a party.”

“A party?” I swallowed the phrase with amazement. “We’re due to leave. We’re supposed to on the road now, starting our journey. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you say something first?”

That’s where the dream ended.

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