I'm recording this mainly because several elements of my awake life have drifted into this. I find that interesting, even if the dream doesn't hold the meaning that I normally hope to find in my dreams:
In my dream, I am in a room in what might be an older college dorm. Things are spartan but durable and neat. I know I have a reason for being there, but that knowledge is not part of the dream. If that makes sense to you...
Either before or after -- or maybe during -- experiencing being in that room, I am also outside standing next to a rather rough playing field, where there's a football game going on. There's no spectator seating and no one is standing on the side of the field other than myself. The play is currently at a considerable distance from where I'm standing. I realize that this would be an excellent opportunity to try out an old camera that I have -- a film camera -- for some action shots of the players. I then realize that I have such a camera plus fresh batteries plus a fresh roll of film in my possession, so I move to retrieve same.
(The reason for my recording is based in this last sentence, because it's actually true in my waking life!)
I think I'm now back inside and unzipping the green canvas carrying case to remove said camera. It's always just a bit of work to pull out the camera -- you have to wiggle it back and forth a bit. I can feel the canvas and the teeth of the zipper. It's very reassuring.
I look at the back of the camera, which reminds me that one of the reasons that digital photography has made such remarkable technical advances is that, once you no longer have to pop open the camera back to change out a roll of film, all that real estate on the camera back becomes available for viewing and control elements.
My brother Warren shows up in the dream and is impressed with the camera. He sees something on the front and says "Wow! It's got png!" or something equivalent. I know it was a so-so camera when it was new, and that it hasn't improved with age. It's not like it's a 30-year-old Hasselblad or anything... I decline to say anything to him about this. He's pleased and so be it. I look at the front of the camera and can't see any designation for the term he used. It's a pretty plain camera!
I experience the feeling of holding the camera and moving the telephoto ring -- listening and feeling the unmistakable feeling and sound of plastic-on-plastic. I immediately recall the joy of doing the same motion with my Canon cameras and L lenses. No plastic here!
I take the lens cap off. It's attached to the camera on a string. Nobody does that any more. I hold the camera up to my face and move the zoom ring and then the focus ring. They both seem to work fine. I put the lens cap back on and it snaps into place.
So, as mentioned above, I find it intriguing and rather fun to have my real life "stuff" showing up in my dream -- with color and tactile sense.
Saturday, December 21, 2019
Thursday, December 12, 2019
Bad Dream 108 -- Morning of 12/11/19
In my dream, I am in a classroom -- sitting in one of those student chairs. There are other people around me, also confined to those chairs. The teacher is talking about something -- I don't think it's anything crucial to the course we're taking.
He moves from the center front of the room to the side, then starts walking slowly down the side aisle. He's still talking, but it still doesn't feel like it's world shaking information.
I find myself standing up and walking to the front of the room. I'm not sure why. Some of the other students are surprised but not concerned. I look at the teacher, and his face tells me that what I'm doing is okay.
I start into my "packaged" description of Foucault's Pendulum. I love to share the story of this wonderful device. So I can tell the story fully and with energy. I guess this must be a lucent dream, because I am following the story carefully as I tell it -- and double-check that I'm telling it correctly.
I wind up the story -- and wake up moments later.
He moves from the center front of the room to the side, then starts walking slowly down the side aisle. He's still talking, but it still doesn't feel like it's world shaking information.
I find myself standing up and walking to the front of the room. I'm not sure why. Some of the other students are surprised but not concerned. I look at the teacher, and his face tells me that what I'm doing is okay.
I start into my "packaged" description of Foucault's Pendulum. I love to share the story of this wonderful device. So I can tell the story fully and with energy. I guess this must be a lucent dream, because I am following the story carefully as I tell it -- and double-check that I'm telling it correctly.
I wind up the story -- and wake up moments later.
Tuesday, December 10, 2019
Bad Dream 107 -- Morning of 12/10/19
In my dream, I am in a hotel room with two other guys. We are there to close a big business deal. I think it has to do with that corner of the intersection of Wilson Point Road and Eastern Avenue. Ages ago, it was a baseball "stadium" for the Martins Aircraft company team and a set of four seldom-used tennis courts . Since the stadium was torn down and the courts removed, to the best of my recall, it has simply stayed as an open field. Grass that was well mown, but otherwise empty. So it represented quite a reasonable investment for commercial development.
We're pretty excited about the deal, and Jack McMichael -- one of the two other people -- seems to be in the lead. The third person is an Unidentifiable.
Jack is disappointed in the room. It's small and it feels as if the three of us are supposed to share it. There's only enough room for a single bed. In particular, there is -- what I think was -- a light switch that should have been a 3-way or other advanced function, but is only an on/off switch and not a very solid one at that.
Jack feels he should apologize to myself and that 3rd person. We kind of feel the same, but we feel bad for Jack as well. Somehow, the idea of changing accommodations is not feasible.
(I have the feeling that I'd stayed at this facility back when I was doing a lot of business travel and got used to the small size etc., but I don't see any reason to mention that to the other guys.)
We find ourselves outdoors in a parking lot. It may be the lot right behind the motel where we're staying, but that's not for certain. It's a bright day and feels like morning. Across the asphalt of the (empty) parking spaces, there is an "elevator," which is certainly disturbing: it is simply a platform with a blank wall at the back and another blank wall on the left side -- but the other two sides are wide open to the world. So there isn't so much of an elevator car as it is simply a platform. There are no guide rails on any of the four sides of this platform. I can't see any mechanism that makes the platform go up and down, but I am sure that it does go up and down.
I understand clearly how dangerous it would be to ride this device. You could easily fall off the two open sides and its possible you could catch a piece of clothing in the gap between the platform and one of the two supporting walls. If you did catch a piece of clothing and couldn't shed it, you would likely be crushed when the platform moved.
Looking closer at the underside of the platform, I see the body of a child -- maybe 8 or 10 years old suspended underneath. Somehow, he seems to have gotten his head/neck caught between the wall and the platform with his body hanging under the platform. The body isn't moving -- and it seems incredibly unlikely that the child is alive at all. He's wearing blue.
Someone approaches the child -- not one of our party of three. The guy is tall and thin. He reaches up and touches the shoe of the child. I initially assume he's doing this to confirm that the child is dead, but he turns around to face everyone else in the parking lot (there may be a dozen or so of us) and shouts "I touched him!" I feel an immediate feeling of disgust. The man showed no sense of the nature of this tragedy -- he simply wanted to show the people in his group how brave he was.
No one in the larger group does or says anything. I can't tell whether it's because they don't care or whether they are as shocked and appalled as I am.
It seems/feels as if no one really knows what to do. The body of the child continues to hang under the elevator -- unmoving. Suspended by his neck.
Since I first saw the child, I've been trying to figure out a way to release and recover the body. It's horrifying to see it just hanging there. I can't imagine, however, how to do that. I "know" that the space between the platform and the back wall is quite small -- and depending on how thick the platform is, either the child's neck or his head has been crushed by the movement of the platform. I feel it's sensible to wait until some first responders with better equipment and/or better ideas show up.
I decide the reasonable/logical thing to do is to call 911. I pat down my pockets to find my phone, but can't locate it. I feel frustrated and annoyed at myself that I can't even do something active/constructive as calling 911.
I decide the only thing I can do would be to write a report -- just in case there was a legal proceeding that occurs after this horrible event.
We're pretty excited about the deal, and Jack McMichael -- one of the two other people -- seems to be in the lead. The third person is an Unidentifiable.
Jack is disappointed in the room. It's small and it feels as if the three of us are supposed to share it. There's only enough room for a single bed. In particular, there is -- what I think was -- a light switch that should have been a 3-way or other advanced function, but is only an on/off switch and not a very solid one at that.
Jack feels he should apologize to myself and that 3rd person. We kind of feel the same, but we feel bad for Jack as well. Somehow, the idea of changing accommodations is not feasible.
(I have the feeling that I'd stayed at this facility back when I was doing a lot of business travel and got used to the small size etc., but I don't see any reason to mention that to the other guys.)
We find ourselves outdoors in a parking lot. It may be the lot right behind the motel where we're staying, but that's not for certain. It's a bright day and feels like morning. Across the asphalt of the (empty) parking spaces, there is an "elevator," which is certainly disturbing: it is simply a platform with a blank wall at the back and another blank wall on the left side -- but the other two sides are wide open to the world. So there isn't so much of an elevator car as it is simply a platform. There are no guide rails on any of the four sides of this platform. I can't see any mechanism that makes the platform go up and down, but I am sure that it does go up and down.
I understand clearly how dangerous it would be to ride this device. You could easily fall off the two open sides and its possible you could catch a piece of clothing in the gap between the platform and one of the two supporting walls. If you did catch a piece of clothing and couldn't shed it, you would likely be crushed when the platform moved.
Looking closer at the underside of the platform, I see the body of a child -- maybe 8 or 10 years old suspended underneath. Somehow, he seems to have gotten his head/neck caught between the wall and the platform with his body hanging under the platform. The body isn't moving -- and it seems incredibly unlikely that the child is alive at all. He's wearing blue.
Someone approaches the child -- not one of our party of three. The guy is tall and thin. He reaches up and touches the shoe of the child. I initially assume he's doing this to confirm that the child is dead, but he turns around to face everyone else in the parking lot (there may be a dozen or so of us) and shouts "I touched him!" I feel an immediate feeling of disgust. The man showed no sense of the nature of this tragedy -- he simply wanted to show the people in his group how brave he was.
No one in the larger group does or says anything. I can't tell whether it's because they don't care or whether they are as shocked and appalled as I am.
It seems/feels as if no one really knows what to do. The body of the child continues to hang under the elevator -- unmoving. Suspended by his neck.
Since I first saw the child, I've been trying to figure out a way to release and recover the body. It's horrifying to see it just hanging there. I can't imagine, however, how to do that. I "know" that the space between the platform and the back wall is quite small -- and depending on how thick the platform is, either the child's neck or his head has been crushed by the movement of the platform. I feel it's sensible to wait until some first responders with better equipment and/or better ideas show up.
I decide the reasonable/logical thing to do is to call 911. I pat down my pockets to find my phone, but can't locate it. I feel frustrated and annoyed at myself that I can't even do something active/constructive as calling 911.
I decide the only thing I can do would be to write a report -- just in case there was a legal proceeding that occurs after this horrible event.
Bad Dream 106 -- Morning of 12/7/19
In my dream, I am walking through a crowded shopping area. It's more congested than a typical mall, but consists of rows of shops left and right. You can't avoid bumping into people, but everyone seems to be getting along with the crowded condition. They seem to be used to it.
I am walking through this area with two friends -- one male and one female. I think we're all in maybe our 40's or so. For some unexplained reason, I'm upset with them. They decide and suggest to get some ice cream. I would really like some ice cream myself, but am being petulant -- like a small child. They get ice cream cones and start walking away. After they've gone some distance (it's not clear whether I walked with them or not) I return to the ice cream stand to order my own cone. As was the case earlier, there are a number of clients looking to get service.
I decide I want to get a cone with Butter Brickle ice cream. The attendant waiting on me looks puzzled and explains that they don't have Butter Brickle. My petulant behavior rises again and I explain to him that of course they do. He points to his board of available flavors, and I can't find Butter Brickle on the list. But I insist that they do have it. (The list is written with chalk on a slate. The writing is not well done so that the selections are not easily discernible.
I am told that yes, they do have Butter Brickle and will prepare my cone immediately. I feel gratified and justified. My pique has paid off.
I start walking away from the ice cream stand and realize that I don't have an ice cream cone of any variety.
I am walking through this area with two friends -- one male and one female. I think we're all in maybe our 40's or so. For some unexplained reason, I'm upset with them. They decide and suggest to get some ice cream. I would really like some ice cream myself, but am being petulant -- like a small child. They get ice cream cones and start walking away. After they've gone some distance (it's not clear whether I walked with them or not) I return to the ice cream stand to order my own cone. As was the case earlier, there are a number of clients looking to get service.
I decide I want to get a cone with Butter Brickle ice cream. The attendant waiting on me looks puzzled and explains that they don't have Butter Brickle. My petulant behavior rises again and I explain to him that of course they do. He points to his board of available flavors, and I can't find Butter Brickle on the list. But I insist that they do have it. (The list is written with chalk on a slate. The writing is not well done so that the selections are not easily discernible.
I am told that yes, they do have Butter Brickle and will prepare my cone immediately. I feel gratified and justified. My pique has paid off.
I start walking away from the ice cream stand and realize that I don't have an ice cream cone of any variety.
Wednesday, November 27, 2019
Bad Dream 105 -- Morning of 11/18/19
It's been several days since I had this dream -- but just didn't find the time to write it up. "Travis" is a member of the Turks Head Jugglers group and, I think, has aspirations of leading the group if and when I relinquish that role.
In my dream, we (not sure who "we" are...) are just finishing up a presentation on science. (I think we were just audience members, but my notes aren't clear on that subject.)
We have to "check out" from this presentation -- much like one has to do at a hotel. The area we're in is remindful of the ground floor of a large department store, and there are displays of items (for sale?) around us. But they're spaced pretty far apart; so that the atmosphere doesn't resonate well with the idea of it actually being a department store. And it has the feeling of being used only occasionally. There are very few other people in the area, and we're unlikely to interact with any of them.
Travis feels that we need to "clean up" the area before we leave. I'm puzzled by this. I mean, we just came for this presentation and now it's time to leave. You don't clean up a movie theater after the show or the lobby of a hotel, so why should we bother cleaning up here? No answer. But Travis is insistent, and the rest of us know that life will be easier if we just went along with his request/demand.
My part of the clean-up effort is to vacuum the carpet. The vacuum cleaner is rather light and not very efficient. When I started working, it looked to me as if the carpet were a mid-tone gray. But as I go over an area (which takes a number of passes because the vacuum is so ineffective), I see that the color actually comes from a very heavy coating of dust. The actual carpet is a different color, but my notes don't mention what that other color is.
So it takes me considerable effort to clean up a very small area of carpet. And now you have that situation like cleaning a spot off a painted wall and the clean surface makes the rest of the wall look bad. So you may wind up just repainting the entire wall. And I look up from my task and realize that the gray surface extends in all directions as a nice easy coat -- with the exception of the spot that I've just cleaned.
I realize that it would take a very long time to clean the entire carpet of this gray dust -- especially because of the poor performance of the vacuum cleaner. So I begin to question whether I should continue to work or just walk away from the project. After all, I wasn't convinced we should have to do anything after the presentation except leave! But I'm sure I am not going to reapply my efforts at vacuuming this huge expanse of carpet!
A shift of scene brings me into contact with The Manager -- a tall slender man in a very formal-looking suit. (I think they called store employees dressed like this "floorwalkers" back in the day.) He's miffed. Very miffed. And he's miffed at me -- or at least taking it out on me. He's waving his arms wildly -- looking as if he's trying to take off and fly. I don't think it has anything to do with the vacuum or the carpet, but I can't be sure about that. My notes say that The Manager was being very foul-mouthed.
All I know is that the carpet and whatever has The Manager so upset are just Not Our Problem.
In my dream, we (not sure who "we" are...) are just finishing up a presentation on science. (I think we were just audience members, but my notes aren't clear on that subject.)
We have to "check out" from this presentation -- much like one has to do at a hotel. The area we're in is remindful of the ground floor of a large department store, and there are displays of items (for sale?) around us. But they're spaced pretty far apart; so that the atmosphere doesn't resonate well with the idea of it actually being a department store. And it has the feeling of being used only occasionally. There are very few other people in the area, and we're unlikely to interact with any of them.
Travis feels that we need to "clean up" the area before we leave. I'm puzzled by this. I mean, we just came for this presentation and now it's time to leave. You don't clean up a movie theater after the show or the lobby of a hotel, so why should we bother cleaning up here? No answer. But Travis is insistent, and the rest of us know that life will be easier if we just went along with his request/demand.
My part of the clean-up effort is to vacuum the carpet. The vacuum cleaner is rather light and not very efficient. When I started working, it looked to me as if the carpet were a mid-tone gray. But as I go over an area (which takes a number of passes because the vacuum is so ineffective), I see that the color actually comes from a very heavy coating of dust. The actual carpet is a different color, but my notes don't mention what that other color is.
So it takes me considerable effort to clean up a very small area of carpet. And now you have that situation like cleaning a spot off a painted wall and the clean surface makes the rest of the wall look bad. So you may wind up just repainting the entire wall. And I look up from my task and realize that the gray surface extends in all directions as a nice easy coat -- with the exception of the spot that I've just cleaned.
I realize that it would take a very long time to clean the entire carpet of this gray dust -- especially because of the poor performance of the vacuum cleaner. So I begin to question whether I should continue to work or just walk away from the project. After all, I wasn't convinced we should have to do anything after the presentation except leave! But I'm sure I am not going to reapply my efforts at vacuuming this huge expanse of carpet!
A shift of scene brings me into contact with The Manager -- a tall slender man in a very formal-looking suit. (I think they called store employees dressed like this "floorwalkers" back in the day.) He's miffed. Very miffed. And he's miffed at me -- or at least taking it out on me. He's waving his arms wildly -- looking as if he's trying to take off and fly. I don't think it has anything to do with the vacuum or the carpet, but I can't be sure about that. My notes say that The Manager was being very foul-mouthed.
All I know is that the carpet and whatever has The Manager so upset are just Not Our Problem.
Bad Dream 104 -- Morning of 11/22/19
In my dream, I am back at college and headed for a class lecture. As I get to the door to the appropriate room (which is a classroom rather than a lecture hall), I realize that the lecture has already started and I'm late.
I then realize that I don't have a pad of paper on which to take notes -- and I don't have a pen either. As the lecture continues, I look around the room to see if there are writing implements available on a shelf somewhere or if there's a familiar face among the students from whom I might borrow such.
Such things are nowhere in evidence. I realize that I will have to leave the building, purchase pen and paper, and then return to the lecture room. I think I know the stores likely to have such things for sale, but I have to cross some major highways -- much like the traffic circle at the Philadelphia Art Museum -- to get there.
When I get to the first store, I see that pens and paper are sold in different stores. So I would be able to purchase a pen there, but would have to go to a different store to get my paper.
The pen I select has famous quotations inscribed on the barrel. The quotes are thoughtful and erudite. And they are most appropriate for being on a writing instrument. The quotes might, in fact, inspire the user of the pen to think a little harder, probe a little deeper, and so forth. I'm amazed that that the barrel of a ballpoint pen could hold so many quotes. As I rotate the pen, I see more and more quotes and all of them are inspiring.
The "scene" moves to my being in the store where I can purchase paper -- and it is my intent to buy a simple pad of 8-1/2 by 11 lined paper. Much to my dismay, the store doesn't have such things. I settle on getting a pad of smaller-size lined paper. I feel the necessity to get back to the lecture as quickly as possible.
I'm standing in the store with my pad in hand ready to check out. but see that the store manager is having an in-depth discussion with a customer. The discussion is animated but not hostile. It feels as if this discussion has gone on for some time and is likely to continue for some considerable time to come. This being the case, I give serious consideration to simply walking out with the pad of paper without paying for it. I feel justified in doing so.
When I decide I'm comfortable doing this, I start to consider what excuse I should make to the teacher when I get back to the lecture.
I then realize that I don't have a pad of paper on which to take notes -- and I don't have a pen either. As the lecture continues, I look around the room to see if there are writing implements available on a shelf somewhere or if there's a familiar face among the students from whom I might borrow such.
Such things are nowhere in evidence. I realize that I will have to leave the building, purchase pen and paper, and then return to the lecture room. I think I know the stores likely to have such things for sale, but I have to cross some major highways -- much like the traffic circle at the Philadelphia Art Museum -- to get there.
When I get to the first store, I see that pens and paper are sold in different stores. So I would be able to purchase a pen there, but would have to go to a different store to get my paper.
The pen I select has famous quotations inscribed on the barrel. The quotes are thoughtful and erudite. And they are most appropriate for being on a writing instrument. The quotes might, in fact, inspire the user of the pen to think a little harder, probe a little deeper, and so forth. I'm amazed that that the barrel of a ballpoint pen could hold so many quotes. As I rotate the pen, I see more and more quotes and all of them are inspiring.
The "scene" moves to my being in the store where I can purchase paper -- and it is my intent to buy a simple pad of 8-1/2 by 11 lined paper. Much to my dismay, the store doesn't have such things. I settle on getting a pad of smaller-size lined paper. I feel the necessity to get back to the lecture as quickly as possible.
I'm standing in the store with my pad in hand ready to check out. but see that the store manager is having an in-depth discussion with a customer. The discussion is animated but not hostile. It feels as if this discussion has gone on for some time and is likely to continue for some considerable time to come. This being the case, I give serious consideration to simply walking out with the pad of paper without paying for it. I feel justified in doing so.
When I decide I'm comfortable doing this, I start to consider what excuse I should make to the teacher when I get back to the lecture.
Saturday, November 16, 2019
Bad Dream 103 -- Morning of 11/16/19
Just a quick snapshot:
In my dream, I have been changed into a spider.
At first, I panic a bit -- mainly about how to move around and be comfortable being enclosed in such a different body.
But I start getting used to having all those eyes, and find it a Good Thing to be able to see around so much.
In my dream, I have been changed into a spider.
At first, I panic a bit -- mainly about how to move around and be comfortable being enclosed in such a different body.
But I start getting used to having all those eyes, and find it a Good Thing to be able to see around so much.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Bad Dream 102 -- Morning of 11/8/19
I don't expect to derive any wisdom from this dream, but I think it might be important to document it in any case:
In my dream, I am in a nondescript room talking with someone whose face and voice I can't remember. Nor can I remember the topic we were discussing.
What I do remember is that the speaker gave me a (pretty vague, I think) threat that if I did that thing -- or I didn't do that thing -- (it wasn't clear what that thing was), that there would be consequences that I wouldn't like.
As I listened to him talking, I felt something hit the back of my head -- just at the base of the skull. Right at the center line.
Dreams usually include the "hearing sounds through a channel other than your waking-life ears" and "seeing something through a path other than your waking-life eyes." But this whack felt very much like something hit the back of my waking-life head.
My first thought -- in my dream -- was that an associate of the person I was talking with had sneaked up behind me and hit me. If you can imagine a baseball bat made out of a rather firm "foam rubber" material, swung with modest force, then you know what that whack felt like. The hit was not meant to hurt me, but just to get my attention immediately and completely.
While I have "seen" and "heard" so much through my dreams, I believe this is the first time that I've ever "felt" something. And, in this case, something that caused me to wake up immediately -- and remember pretty clearly what that impact felt like.
But I've got nothing else to report about the dream...
In my dream, I am in a nondescript room talking with someone whose face and voice I can't remember. Nor can I remember the topic we were discussing.
What I do remember is that the speaker gave me a (pretty vague, I think) threat that if I did that thing -- or I didn't do that thing -- (it wasn't clear what that thing was), that there would be consequences that I wouldn't like.
As I listened to him talking, I felt something hit the back of my head -- just at the base of the skull. Right at the center line.
Dreams usually include the "hearing sounds through a channel other than your waking-life ears" and "seeing something through a path other than your waking-life eyes." But this whack felt very much like something hit the back of my waking-life head.
My first thought -- in my dream -- was that an associate of the person I was talking with had sneaked up behind me and hit me. If you can imagine a baseball bat made out of a rather firm "foam rubber" material, swung with modest force, then you know what that whack felt like. The hit was not meant to hurt me, but just to get my attention immediately and completely.
While I have "seen" and "heard" so much through my dreams, I believe this is the first time that I've ever "felt" something. And, in this case, something that caused me to wake up immediately -- and remember pretty clearly what that impact felt like.
But I've got nothing else to report about the dream...
Monday, November 4, 2019
Bad Dream 101 -- Morning of 10/12/19
This dream had three distinct phases and, at the end of the third phase it woke me up from the nightmarish aspects of it:
In the first phase, I am looking over a smallish grassy plot and see a “Fairy Ring” – a circle of mushrooms roughly two feet in diameter. The stems of the mushrooms are tall, but the mushrooms are “past their prime” and bending over, roughly half-way up the stem and the mushroom heads are wilting.
I call to Deb to come and see this – not so much because the mushrooms are wilting but because the circle is so perfect and so well-defined by the population of mushrooms that make up the circle.
This event is followed by another one, quite similar. Again, I call out to Deb to come and see the Fairy Ring and once again, it’s just about perfect and all the mushrooms are wilting.
I don’t believe that Deb shows up at either calling.
In the second phase of the dream, I am in a facility housing youngsters and, perhaps grown-ups as well. The deal here is that the residents in the facility can’t get out. They don’t seem to be mistreated in any way – “well cared-for” is the phrase that comes to mind – but once you walk into the place (it seems as if) you can never walk out again.
I am standing in front of a door that leads into the facility, and there is a black pushbutton on the wall next to the door. I have the feeling that I might be able to go into the facility and leave, but I might be trapped in the facility with all the other folks. I’m not sure whether I push the button or not, but I do enter the facility.
I am now standing next to a group of young adolescents who are “residents” of the facility. They are waiting for something – it’s quite possible it’s getting close to mealtime. One of the youngsters with unruly black hair is telling the others in a soft voice about his plan to do something. It might be to get himself out of the facility – I’m not sure about this.
The third phase of the dream finds me in the same facility (I think) but the people here are older – roughly my age. I think all of them – certainly some of them – are wearing pajamas and/or bathrobes. I’m in a Social Room with all of them. I’m not part of this group – and I may have been sent here to
investigate a phenomenon: men in this group have been murdering their wives without knowing why or even that they did it. They would have no recollection of the event.
I am circulating with these people a bit when I suddenly see one of the men (wearing pajamas) dragging something around a corner and possibly out of the room. The “something” is large and looks heavy. I understand that what he’s dragging is the corpse of his wife.
I confront him about this activity, and he looks surprised and bewildered. He clearly doesn’t “connect” himself with the disposal effort of his wife’s earthly remains.
I wake up.
In the first phase, I am looking over a smallish grassy plot and see a “Fairy Ring” – a circle of mushrooms roughly two feet in diameter. The stems of the mushrooms are tall, but the mushrooms are “past their prime” and bending over, roughly half-way up the stem and the mushroom heads are wilting.
I call to Deb to come and see this – not so much because the mushrooms are wilting but because the circle is so perfect and so well-defined by the population of mushrooms that make up the circle.
This event is followed by another one, quite similar. Again, I call out to Deb to come and see the Fairy Ring and once again, it’s just about perfect and all the mushrooms are wilting.
I don’t believe that Deb shows up at either calling.
In the second phase of the dream, I am in a facility housing youngsters and, perhaps grown-ups as well. The deal here is that the residents in the facility can’t get out. They don’t seem to be mistreated in any way – “well cared-for” is the phrase that comes to mind – but once you walk into the place (it seems as if) you can never walk out again.
I am standing in front of a door that leads into the facility, and there is a black pushbutton on the wall next to the door. I have the feeling that I might be able to go into the facility and leave, but I might be trapped in the facility with all the other folks. I’m not sure whether I push the button or not, but I do enter the facility.
I am now standing next to a group of young adolescents who are “residents” of the facility. They are waiting for something – it’s quite possible it’s getting close to mealtime. One of the youngsters with unruly black hair is telling the others in a soft voice about his plan to do something. It might be to get himself out of the facility – I’m not sure about this.
The third phase of the dream finds me in the same facility (I think) but the people here are older – roughly my age. I think all of them – certainly some of them – are wearing pajamas and/or bathrobes. I’m in a Social Room with all of them. I’m not part of this group – and I may have been sent here to
investigate a phenomenon: men in this group have been murdering their wives without knowing why or even that they did it. They would have no recollection of the event.
I am circulating with these people a bit when I suddenly see one of the men (wearing pajamas) dragging something around a corner and possibly out of the room. The “something” is large and looks heavy. I understand that what he’s dragging is the corpse of his wife.
I confront him about this activity, and he looks surprised and bewildered. He clearly doesn’t “connect” himself with the disposal effort of his wife’s earthly remains.
I wake up.
Bad Dream 100 -- Morning of 10/5/19
In my dream, I am in a large room with a great many other people in it.
They’re all grown-ups. And we’re all here for some kind of presentation or meeting of some kind. I wasn’t “informed” as to what the subject at hand was…
Everyone is friendly, and there is a goodly amount of chit-chat going on and the presentation should start sometime soon. It occurs to me that most everyone – or everyone – is wearing either a sweatshirt or (possibly/occasionally) a T-shirt. And there is always a name on the shirt. The only one I can recall is a shirt labeled “OHIO,” but I think there’s a considerable variety in what word is there – but they’re all either names of places or (possibly) the name of a school.
There is a large bee – a bumblebee sort of critter – flying around the room. It flies from the left side of the room, then over to the right side. If it lands at all, it’s only momentarily and then it takes off again. It flies very quickly – almost as if it’s angry. I wouldn’t want it to land on me or crash into me.
I marvel that an animal that small can have so much energy.
It would seem that the meeting/performance/presentation isn’t getting underway until the bee issue is resolved. Nothing is being said to that effect, it’s just a feeling that I have. That if someone could stop the incessant flying back and forth, someone else would announce: “Well, now we can get started!” Just a feeling on my part.
The bee occasionally lands (momentarily) fairly close to me, and on one occasion, I almost have the opportunity to trap it under a juice glass. (And from there, slide a piece of paper underneath and thereby be able to escort the bee outside – which is what I’m sure it would like to have happen. But I’m not quick enough and in any case, the glass had been used for some beverage that left a heavy residue on the inside. So if I had captured the bee, it might have gotten clogged up with the residue. Not a good thing.
I understand I have the capacity and requisite equipment to kill the bee. And no one else, it seems, is equipped to do that.
I’m torn between these two options: allow the bee to continue buzzing about and preventing the session from getting underway OR to swat the critter (with considerable regret) and assist in getting the program going.
They’re all grown-ups. And we’re all here for some kind of presentation or meeting of some kind. I wasn’t “informed” as to what the subject at hand was…
Everyone is friendly, and there is a goodly amount of chit-chat going on and the presentation should start sometime soon. It occurs to me that most everyone – or everyone – is wearing either a sweatshirt or (possibly/occasionally) a T-shirt. And there is always a name on the shirt. The only one I can recall is a shirt labeled “OHIO,” but I think there’s a considerable variety in what word is there – but they’re all either names of places or (possibly) the name of a school.
There is a large bee – a bumblebee sort of critter – flying around the room. It flies from the left side of the room, then over to the right side. If it lands at all, it’s only momentarily and then it takes off again. It flies very quickly – almost as if it’s angry. I wouldn’t want it to land on me or crash into me.
I marvel that an animal that small can have so much energy.
It would seem that the meeting/performance/presentation isn’t getting underway until the bee issue is resolved. Nothing is being said to that effect, it’s just a feeling that I have. That if someone could stop the incessant flying back and forth, someone else would announce: “Well, now we can get started!” Just a feeling on my part.
The bee occasionally lands (momentarily) fairly close to me, and on one occasion, I almost have the opportunity to trap it under a juice glass. (And from there, slide a piece of paper underneath and thereby be able to escort the bee outside – which is what I’m sure it would like to have happen. But I’m not quick enough and in any case, the glass had been used for some beverage that left a heavy residue on the inside. So if I had captured the bee, it might have gotten clogged up with the residue. Not a good thing.
I understand I have the capacity and requisite equipment to kill the bee. And no one else, it seems, is equipped to do that.
I’m torn between these two options: allow the bee to continue buzzing about and preventing the session from getting underway OR to swat the critter (with considerable regret) and assist in getting the program going.
Friday, October 25, 2019
Bad Dream 99 -- Morning of 10/25/19
I know that Jeremy Taylor says that there is no such thing as a "Bad Dream" or a "Nightmare," but what I experienced early this morning comes darn close. The "feeling" of the dream was reminiscent of a horror/sci-fi movie:
In my dream, I am standing outside a ranch-style house -- on a small porch -- looking into the woods, which are straight ahead of me, a hundred yards or so away.
I see something out there. It's in the air, but hard to judge how big it is and how far away. It's an oblong rectangle, maybe 4 or 5 times wider than it is tall. (I will sketch up something of what it looks like in Power Point and, if possible, move it to this write-up. If not, I will place a copy of the image in the 3-ring binder next to this write-up.) It is essentially black, but has three white rings inside it. They are arranged horizontally equally spaced across the rectangle. The middle one is just a bit lower than the other two. Maybe 1/4 of the diameter of the circles. Maybe a bit less.
Although there are woods straight ahead, this object can be seen "in front" of the woods or "simply through" the woods, as if the trees are transparent in front of the object. In other words, I can't tell whether the object is in front of the woods (i.e., closer to the house) or behind the woods or somewhere inside the woods. All I can tell is that I can clearly see the object.
I know the object is not a natural phenomenon, like a sunrise or sunset, but other than that, I haven't a clue as to what it is.
The scene shifts. It is now nighttime the air is pleasant and just a little bit cool -- a lovely time (usually) to be outside. I am on that same small porch, but there are other people around me. It is at least one family group -- maybe more -- but there are grown-up mommies and daddies and kids as well. I can't tell how many people there are. I am somewhat acquainted with these people, but not intimate, long-term friends. I would be able to call some of them by name, but not all.
All of us are on the porch looking towards the woods. The object is still there, but "feels" as if it's moving. Closer to the house and maybe losing a bit of altitude -- as if were floating and now maybe it's landing. I feel concerned about this, but not necessarily frightened yet. But fear is not far away.
I then sense that there are bipedal beings moving ever-so-slowly towards the house from the woods. They are associated with this object. Maybe the object was a ship which has now landed and these beings have disembarked. Because it's dark, I can't make out exactly what they look like. All I see are dim gray outlines. As they walk slowly towards the house they shift slightly side to side. They look dumpy -- their "heads" sloping slightly outward to sloped shoulders and their sides slightly bulging to the outside. If a haystack decided to become bipedal and roughly human in shape, it might look like this. I sense maybe a half dozen of them, but understand that there may be more of them behind these. Maybe a lot more of them. As they shift side to side, moving slowly forward, I think they shift side to side in unison. My feeling is that whatever/whoever they are, standing as bipedal beings may not be their actual/usual form, but rather a form they've adopted because they're now walking across Planet Earth. If they were elsewhere, they would adopt a different form.
Okay, now I'm really worried. I have the strong sense that they are moving towards our house. (There are no other structures anywhere near us.) There is no way to know whether they wish us well and simply want to interact or whether they wish to eat us. The image of the floor of our house scattered with our bones flashes across my dream vision.
I tell the people around me that we need to move back into the house. I'm not sure how much of what I see of these beings is being seen by the rest of the people in our group. I get the feeling that at least several of the people wish to remain outside and see what these creatures look like and what they want. I think this is a terrible idea.
I call out more firmly: "We need to move back into the house NOW!" And some people start to move, but not quickly. I'm getting frightened, but I don't think many if any of the people around me share my concern.
The house has a number of floor-to-ceiling windows facing the woods, so that if these creatures wish to enter the house, it should be fairly simple for them simply to break the glass. I know there is a door on the opposite side of the house, but I feel that fleeing the house by that exit would only forestall the inevitable -- whatever the inevitable is.
The creatures keep moving slowly swaying a bit side-to-side walking towards our house. There are, in fact, more of them behind the few that I initially saw.
I wake up.
In my dream, I am standing outside a ranch-style house -- on a small porch -- looking into the woods, which are straight ahead of me, a hundred yards or so away.
I see something out there. It's in the air, but hard to judge how big it is and how far away. It's an oblong rectangle, maybe 4 or 5 times wider than it is tall. (I will sketch up something of what it looks like in Power Point and, if possible, move it to this write-up. If not, I will place a copy of the image in the 3-ring binder next to this write-up.) It is essentially black, but has three white rings inside it. They are arranged horizontally equally spaced across the rectangle. The middle one is just a bit lower than the other two. Maybe 1/4 of the diameter of the circles. Maybe a bit less.
Although there are woods straight ahead, this object can be seen "in front" of the woods or "simply through" the woods, as if the trees are transparent in front of the object. In other words, I can't tell whether the object is in front of the woods (i.e., closer to the house) or behind the woods or somewhere inside the woods. All I can tell is that I can clearly see the object.
I know the object is not a natural phenomenon, like a sunrise or sunset, but other than that, I haven't a clue as to what it is.
The scene shifts. It is now nighttime the air is pleasant and just a little bit cool -- a lovely time (usually) to be outside. I am on that same small porch, but there are other people around me. It is at least one family group -- maybe more -- but there are grown-up mommies and daddies and kids as well. I can't tell how many people there are. I am somewhat acquainted with these people, but not intimate, long-term friends. I would be able to call some of them by name, but not all.
All of us are on the porch looking towards the woods. The object is still there, but "feels" as if it's moving. Closer to the house and maybe losing a bit of altitude -- as if were floating and now maybe it's landing. I feel concerned about this, but not necessarily frightened yet. But fear is not far away.
I then sense that there are bipedal beings moving ever-so-slowly towards the house from the woods. They are associated with this object. Maybe the object was a ship which has now landed and these beings have disembarked. Because it's dark, I can't make out exactly what they look like. All I see are dim gray outlines. As they walk slowly towards the house they shift slightly side to side. They look dumpy -- their "heads" sloping slightly outward to sloped shoulders and their sides slightly bulging to the outside. If a haystack decided to become bipedal and roughly human in shape, it might look like this. I sense maybe a half dozen of them, but understand that there may be more of them behind these. Maybe a lot more of them. As they shift side to side, moving slowly forward, I think they shift side to side in unison. My feeling is that whatever/whoever they are, standing as bipedal beings may not be their actual/usual form, but rather a form they've adopted because they're now walking across Planet Earth. If they were elsewhere, they would adopt a different form.
Okay, now I'm really worried. I have the strong sense that they are moving towards our house. (There are no other structures anywhere near us.) There is no way to know whether they wish us well and simply want to interact or whether they wish to eat us. The image of the floor of our house scattered with our bones flashes across my dream vision.
I tell the people around me that we need to move back into the house. I'm not sure how much of what I see of these beings is being seen by the rest of the people in our group. I get the feeling that at least several of the people wish to remain outside and see what these creatures look like and what they want. I think this is a terrible idea.
I call out more firmly: "We need to move back into the house NOW!" And some people start to move, but not quickly. I'm getting frightened, but I don't think many if any of the people around me share my concern.
The house has a number of floor-to-ceiling windows facing the woods, so that if these creatures wish to enter the house, it should be fairly simple for them simply to break the glass. I know there is a door on the opposite side of the house, but I feel that fleeing the house by that exit would only forestall the inevitable -- whatever the inevitable is.
The creatures keep moving slowly swaying a bit side-to-side walking towards our house. There are, in fact, more of them behind the few that I initially saw.
I wake up.
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
Bad Dream 98 -- Morning of 9/3/19
This dream actually occurred a bit before Dream 97.
I am doing some drawing on a computer screen. I am creating a picture of an outdoor setting: a wooded scene seen from above at an angle.
I have just drawn in a rock bluff on the screen, with a hint of the drop-off to the valley below. Then the computer takes over and completes the scene beautifully. The rest of the bluff, the trees beyond it some other hills in the background. A mountain in the distance with a snow-covered peak. The sky.
I'm amazed at how lovely the scene is. It's the same sort of thing I would have drawn in, but much more beautiful.
I am doing some drawing on a computer screen. I am creating a picture of an outdoor setting: a wooded scene seen from above at an angle.
I have just drawn in a rock bluff on the screen, with a hint of the drop-off to the valley below. Then the computer takes over and completes the scene beautifully. The rest of the bluff, the trees beyond it some other hills in the background. A mountain in the distance with a snow-covered peak. The sky.
I'm amazed at how lovely the scene is. It's the same sort of thing I would have drawn in, but much more beautiful.
Bad Dream 97 -- Morning of 9/3/19
Earlier parts of this dream -- but dimly remembered now -- were rather lavish. What follows is all that I can recall with any clarity:
In my dream, I am talking with a woman -- I think we're somewhere outdoors. There may be one or two Unidentifiables nearby paying attention to this conversation. We're all standing up.
I have taken a test of some kind (academic or medical, I'm not sure) and the result was okay. The woman seems to have done something to me or given me some medication or something like that. It may have had something to do with an electric shock. She gave me the "something" in order that I might do better on the test. But now, she's starting to think that whatever it was she did might actually have decreased my performance. I would have scored better if I didn't take the "whatever." I get the feeling she feels guilty about possibly doing me some harm, although I continue to be unconcerned about the results of the test.
In my dream, I am talking with a woman -- I think we're somewhere outdoors. There may be one or two Unidentifiables nearby paying attention to this conversation. We're all standing up.
I have taken a test of some kind (academic or medical, I'm not sure) and the result was okay. The woman seems to have done something to me or given me some medication or something like that. It may have had something to do with an electric shock. She gave me the "something" in order that I might do better on the test. But now, she's starting to think that whatever it was she did might actually have decreased my performance. I would have scored better if I didn't take the "whatever." I get the feeling she feels guilty about possibly doing me some harm, although I continue to be unconcerned about the results of the test.
Saturday, August 31, 2019
Bad Dream 96 -- Morning of 8/31/19
Just the "tail end" of a much more involved dream:
In my dream, I am standing near the short strip of stores on Wilson Point -- the area where I grew up. The stores change fairly regularly nowadays -- I think struggling to stay in business. But back then, the stores were fixtures for the neighborhood that simply didn't change. I am there back then.
I am standing near the barber shop, but it's not clear whether I'm inside or outside. There is some "discussion" about what the large shop window out front should look like. There seem to be several layouts available: one large pane of glass for the entire window or one or more choices of multiple panes. (The term "discussion" here does not imply that there are other "people" in the dream. I feel there may be people nearby, but they don't really enter into the essence of the dream. It's more me thinking about which layout would be best.)
That's about all I recall...
In my dream, I am standing near the short strip of stores on Wilson Point -- the area where I grew up. The stores change fairly regularly nowadays -- I think struggling to stay in business. But back then, the stores were fixtures for the neighborhood that simply didn't change. I am there back then.
I am standing near the barber shop, but it's not clear whether I'm inside or outside. There is some "discussion" about what the large shop window out front should look like. There seem to be several layouts available: one large pane of glass for the entire window or one or more choices of multiple panes. (The term "discussion" here does not imply that there are other "people" in the dream. I feel there may be people nearby, but they don't really enter into the essence of the dream. It's more me thinking about which layout would be best.)
That's about all I recall...
Tuesday, August 27, 2019
Bad Dream 95 -- Morning of 8/25/19
In my dream, I am on Marsh Creek Lake in an aluminum canoe. One of the classic Grumman boats. My canoe and I are on "the far side" of the lake -- the one directly across from where we normally put in. Maybe 40 yards from the shore of that far side.
I notice that Andrew McIntyre is bobbing along in the water not far from the canoe. I also notice that the water is rather turgid, as if something has kicked up a lot of mud. It's impossible to see anything below the surface of the water.
I notice as well that Brian Fahey is standing on the shore of the side where we normally put in our various boats. He seems to be looking in our direction, but isn't waving his arms or anything...
It makes sense in the dream to start moving back to the "here's where we put in" side. I think so and Andrew seems to think so as well.
There is a painter (a length of rope attached to the bow of a boat) tied to the aft end of the canoe. A pretty heavy piece of rope that floats on the surface of the water. Andrew swims to the aft end of the canoe, ignoring the painter, and wants to push the boat back to the other side -- which as the writer notes is maybe a quarter mile. That's a lot of water across which to push a heavy canoe with a passenger in it.
I show him without saying anything that paddling the canoe is a much easier way to move the boat. I think I'm disinclined to try to get Andrew into the boat, as the activity might easily capsize the canoe. If you know exactly how to do it, it's fairly safe, but I don't know if Andrew knows the procedure. And Andrew doesn't seem to express any interest in getting in either.
I'm making pretty good time across the water -- and it's possible that Andrew is now holding onto the painter rather than trying to swim across or push the canoe. And then I realize that I've lost the paddle overboard. (I don't remember dropping it; and I think it's important that I don't remember dropping it). I look back and see it floating on the water maybe 30 feet or so behind us. I find that I can place both hands in the water -- one hand/arm on each side of the canoe -- and hand paddle back to pick up the wooden one, which I start doing.
I wake up.
I notice that Andrew McIntyre is bobbing along in the water not far from the canoe. I also notice that the water is rather turgid, as if something has kicked up a lot of mud. It's impossible to see anything below the surface of the water.
I notice as well that Brian Fahey is standing on the shore of the side where we normally put in our various boats. He seems to be looking in our direction, but isn't waving his arms or anything...
It makes sense in the dream to start moving back to the "here's where we put in" side. I think so and Andrew seems to think so as well.
There is a painter (a length of rope attached to the bow of a boat) tied to the aft end of the canoe. A pretty heavy piece of rope that floats on the surface of the water. Andrew swims to the aft end of the canoe, ignoring the painter, and wants to push the boat back to the other side -- which as the writer notes is maybe a quarter mile. That's a lot of water across which to push a heavy canoe with a passenger in it.
I show him without saying anything that paddling the canoe is a much easier way to move the boat. I think I'm disinclined to try to get Andrew into the boat, as the activity might easily capsize the canoe. If you know exactly how to do it, it's fairly safe, but I don't know if Andrew knows the procedure. And Andrew doesn't seem to express any interest in getting in either.
I'm making pretty good time across the water -- and it's possible that Andrew is now holding onto the painter rather than trying to swim across or push the canoe. And then I realize that I've lost the paddle overboard. (I don't remember dropping it; and I think it's important that I don't remember dropping it). I look back and see it floating on the water maybe 30 feet or so behind us. I find that I can place both hands in the water -- one hand/arm on each side of the canoe -- and hand paddle back to pick up the wooden one, which I start doing.
I wake up.
Saturday, August 10, 2019
Bad Dream 94 -- Morning of 8/10/19
A completely audio dream. (I'm guessing that "dream" is the proper term.) And this certainly qualifies as a "lucid" dream as well.
I am lying in bed half-asleep in the early morning when I hear a voice from (what seems like) downstairs. It must be fairly loud because, as usual, I'm wearing ear plugs.
It's a woman's voice and it could easily be my Mother's when she was much younger and stronger. The voice is quite firm, but not angry or excited or anything like that. It's just declarative firm. If this moment was drawn up as in a cartoon, the words would be boldface.
I can almost make out the words. She seems to say/declare a sentence or two then pause -- as if she wants to allow the listener to absorb the message of what she's just said. Then she proceeds to say another sentence or two and pause yet again.
Occasionally, I can make out a word or two, but never enough to discover what topic or topics she's talking about.
I get the feeling she's not necessarily talking directly to me or to anyone in particular, but I feel she knows I can hear her. It's possible she's standing at the bottom of the staircase just to make sure she's heard.
I understand the risk of taking out my ear plugs: while it may allow me to hear her words clearly and get an understanding of what she's trying to say, it might also be the case that the voice will stop if and when I remove the earplugs.
I take out the ear plugs and try even harder to understand the words. But the words have stopped.
I am lying in bed half-asleep in the early morning when I hear a voice from (what seems like) downstairs. It must be fairly loud because, as usual, I'm wearing ear plugs.
It's a woman's voice and it could easily be my Mother's when she was much younger and stronger. The voice is quite firm, but not angry or excited or anything like that. It's just declarative firm. If this moment was drawn up as in a cartoon, the words would be boldface.
I can almost make out the words. She seems to say/declare a sentence or two then pause -- as if she wants to allow the listener to absorb the message of what she's just said. Then she proceeds to say another sentence or two and pause yet again.
Occasionally, I can make out a word or two, but never enough to discover what topic or topics she's talking about.
I get the feeling she's not necessarily talking directly to me or to anyone in particular, but I feel she knows I can hear her. It's possible she's standing at the bottom of the staircase just to make sure she's heard.
I understand the risk of taking out my ear plugs: while it may allow me to hear her words clearly and get an understanding of what she's trying to say, it might also be the case that the voice will stop if and when I remove the earplugs.
I take out the ear plugs and try even harder to understand the words. But the words have stopped.
Sunday, August 4, 2019
Bad Dream 93 -- Morning of 8/3/19
In my dream, I am helping someone prepare for some kind of martial arts contest. This is not physical help, more keeping the details of the event straight and making sure my guy is in the right place at the right time with the right credentials, etc.
There is a woman who is assisting me with this. Doing secretarial type stuff. I'm thinking it might be Deb.
She and I are "excited" about the upcoming competition. Maybe "energized" is a better word. We know that what we're doing is absolutely necessary to have the event come off successfully. And we have a certain (but not monetary) "investment" in our combatant and want him to do well.
In preparation for the event, we are setting up tables (the folding kind) and chairs (ditto) rather than clearing the area for physical combat. This feels strange to me and I wonder if we're doing the right thing. But the set-up is taking place in an orderly fashion and the other people doing the work are treating the set-up as routine.
As we approach the time when the competition/combat is supposed to take place and the set-up is almost done, our guy says he's not going through with it. He knows the opponent and knows he's unlikely to beat him. There's an undercurrent here that he also doesn't want to get hurt. The winner in events like this may come off without a scratch, but the loser is typically beaten physically rather convincingly. That is, after all, why he lost.
I can understand his reluctance to compete. It's very sensible given his analysis, and what little I know about the other guy suggests that my guy is absolutely correct.
I'm disappointed as are the other members of the set-up team, but I also have a feeling of relief: I really wasn't interested in seeing our guy get pummeled. I am a bit annoyed that he didn't come to this conclusion earlier -- before we did all the paperwork and other arrangements -- but I certainly can't fault or blame him for reaching and expressing this conclusion.
There is a woman who is assisting me with this. Doing secretarial type stuff. I'm thinking it might be Deb.
She and I are "excited" about the upcoming competition. Maybe "energized" is a better word. We know that what we're doing is absolutely necessary to have the event come off successfully. And we have a certain (but not monetary) "investment" in our combatant and want him to do well.
In preparation for the event, we are setting up tables (the folding kind) and chairs (ditto) rather than clearing the area for physical combat. This feels strange to me and I wonder if we're doing the right thing. But the set-up is taking place in an orderly fashion and the other people doing the work are treating the set-up as routine.
As we approach the time when the competition/combat is supposed to take place and the set-up is almost done, our guy says he's not going through with it. He knows the opponent and knows he's unlikely to beat him. There's an undercurrent here that he also doesn't want to get hurt. The winner in events like this may come off without a scratch, but the loser is typically beaten physically rather convincingly. That is, after all, why he lost.
I can understand his reluctance to compete. It's very sensible given his analysis, and what little I know about the other guy suggests that my guy is absolutely correct.
I'm disappointed as are the other members of the set-up team, but I also have a feeling of relief: I really wasn't interested in seeing our guy get pummeled. I am a bit annoyed that he didn't come to this conclusion earlier -- before we did all the paperwork and other arrangements -- but I certainly can't fault or blame him for reaching and expressing this conclusion.
Bad Dream 92 -- Morning of 8/2/91
In my dream, I have just finished up some activity. It may have been being in the audience of a theatrical or musical performance or visiting a museum or a sporting event or...
In any case, I am outside the building where I've been and walking a bit. I didn't drive a car to this event and am concerned that I might have to walk home -- which feels like it would be several miles. Visually, I am reminded of West Chester Pike in towards Upper Darby as I look at and/or think about the road I would walk along. It feels as if it's rather late in the day. There's still lots of sunlight, but that might disappear if I have to walk all the way home.
Ahead of me, I see what looks like a open-air bus stop, which feels promising. Maybe I can get a ride back to my house, or at least a lot closer. As I approach the canopy that comprises the bus stop, I see a bus pull up to it and stop. This feels very promising! The bus is rather newish in appearance and quite clean. I get aboard the bus without asking any questions and don't need to pay a fee: it's pointed in the right direction, do why bother asking questions? There are a few people already on the bus. I don't recognize anyone.
The bus starts up and begins to move, and something tells me that I may have made a mistake in getting on. There's a similarity between all the other people on the bus, even though some are male and others female, some are considerably younger than others. I can't identify why they "feel" similar. It's not threatening or reassuring.
I'm not sure whether I ask someone about "Where are we headed?" or I just figure it out, but I now understand that the bus is part of the transportation system for the local college. And there's a hint from somewhere that the bus is part of the football program at the school. And I think about Penn State's huge campus, even though I've never spent any time at State College.
People on the bus are looking at me now -- not angry or curious, just looking. They seem to understand that I really shouldn't be on the bus. It doesn't bother them that I am, it's just they know I am not going to the college.
I'm okay staying on the bus, because it is taking me in the right direction and I "know" I can get off when I need to. And the bus is a whole lot faster towards getting home than hoofing it the entire distance.
In any case, I am outside the building where I've been and walking a bit. I didn't drive a car to this event and am concerned that I might have to walk home -- which feels like it would be several miles. Visually, I am reminded of West Chester Pike in towards Upper Darby as I look at and/or think about the road I would walk along. It feels as if it's rather late in the day. There's still lots of sunlight, but that might disappear if I have to walk all the way home.
Ahead of me, I see what looks like a open-air bus stop, which feels promising. Maybe I can get a ride back to my house, or at least a lot closer. As I approach the canopy that comprises the bus stop, I see a bus pull up to it and stop. This feels very promising! The bus is rather newish in appearance and quite clean. I get aboard the bus without asking any questions and don't need to pay a fee: it's pointed in the right direction, do why bother asking questions? There are a few people already on the bus. I don't recognize anyone.
The bus starts up and begins to move, and something tells me that I may have made a mistake in getting on. There's a similarity between all the other people on the bus, even though some are male and others female, some are considerably younger than others. I can't identify why they "feel" similar. It's not threatening or reassuring.
I'm not sure whether I ask someone about "Where are we headed?" or I just figure it out, but I now understand that the bus is part of the transportation system for the local college. And there's a hint from somewhere that the bus is part of the football program at the school. And I think about Penn State's huge campus, even though I've never spent any time at State College.
People on the bus are looking at me now -- not angry or curious, just looking. They seem to understand that I really shouldn't be on the bus. It doesn't bother them that I am, it's just they know I am not going to the college.
I'm okay staying on the bus, because it is taking me in the right direction and I "know" I can get off when I need to. And the bus is a whole lot faster towards getting home than hoofing it the entire distance.
Monday, July 29, 2019
Just a note so that I don't lose this experience.
Evening of Friday 7/26/19. Deb is away at Yearly Meeting. Has been since Wednesday and won't be home until Sunday.
I haven't a clue as to why this happened at all or why it happened then -- but it may have something to do with Deb's absence.
As I'm finishing up dinner (I think), it suddenly occurs to me that I miss my Mother. Not just that I recognize the fact that she's dead. She's gone. She's not coming back...
But that I'll never hear her voice again. I'll never have another chance to tell her some stupid joke that she thinks is a riot. I'll never have another chance to reminisce about when we were young. When all of us were young. Never have another dish of her famous spaghetti sauce (you can skip the noodles, just pour this over a piece of toast or something...) Never have another chance to hear her interact with Dad -- to pronounce his one-syllable name as a four-syllable word: "Deee-aaaaa-nnnn-eeee!" always with a note of exasperation.
Never.
And it hurt.
I haven't a clue as to why this happened at all or why it happened then -- but it may have something to do with Deb's absence.
As I'm finishing up dinner (I think), it suddenly occurs to me that I miss my Mother. Not just that I recognize the fact that she's dead. She's gone. She's not coming back...
But that I'll never hear her voice again. I'll never have another chance to tell her some stupid joke that she thinks is a riot. I'll never have another chance to reminisce about when we were young. When all of us were young. Never have another dish of her famous spaghetti sauce (you can skip the noodles, just pour this over a piece of toast or something...) Never have another chance to hear her interact with Dad -- to pronounce his one-syllable name as a four-syllable word: "Deee-aaaaa-nnnn-eeee!" always with a note of exasperation.
Never.
And it hurt.
Bad Dream 91 -- Morning of 7/29/19
In my dream, I am staying in a hotel/motel room. I think I have not been there long, because I'm still making discoveries as I walk about the room. One wall is completely (or almost) glass windows -- floor to ceiling. I'm on the ground floor and these windows are looking out at a street scene with considerable foot traffic as well as vehicular traffic.
The window coverings are very light and frilly curtain material that comes nowhere close to covering the windows. So that, even as I can look out at the people on the street, they can look in at me. Out of curiosity as much as anything else, I tug at one of the curtains and confirm that it barely moves and does nothing to provide privacy.
My major concern is that I can't undress to change clothes or get ready for bed. Safety is also a concern but I think not as much.
I see that there are pull shades available on some, maybe most, maybe all the windows and I pull one of them down to confirm they work. I don't know whether pulling all the existing shades would allow me to change clothes safely, but decide not to pursue the issue and let the shade roll back up. (This bit may be out of place chronologically with the rest of the dream...)
I go to the door to make sure it's closed and discover that the handle/latch mechanism doesn't work, so that, not only can you not lock the door, you can't even make sure the door is closed. I then notice that one of those small slide locks -- a small brass rod that slips into an small brass arch on the frame of the door. I move the rod to the "Locked" position to make sure that the door won't simply drift open -- or someone pushes on the door and it opens. But I know that anyone leaning heavily against the door would dislodge the slide lock completely.
Two workmen "appear" in the next image of the room. I think they're there to fix the door handle/latch mechanism, but they don't seem to be in any hurry to do that. I explain the situation to them and they seem a bit concerned but not surprised.
I turn to the rest of the room and discover that there are 7 TV sets -- all of them "on" -- piled up near one corner of the room. Placed pretty much with their backs against the wall. All of them are the old-style "picture tube" variety rather than modern flat screens and they're all showing black & white images. Some are considerably larger than others. There's very little sound coming from any of them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the story being told on one of the sets. It's video of an old football game. In the middle of the action, one of the players hands or tosses the ball to the coach (Vince Lombardi?) who throws a pretty good spiral back onto the field where it's caught by one of his players for a complete pass -- and the play is judged to be legal. The announcer is excited: this seems to be the first time in football history anyone has done this -- and it turn out to be legal.
Somewhere around here in the dream, I see an altercation on the street -- I think between two women -- and it looks like it's getting pretty serious. I understand that if gun play starts, that I would be in jeopardy, given the large glass windows and the possibility of a stray bullet... I'm concerned, but don't know what to do about it. Other people out there get involved, separate the two women, and things quiet down.
I also have a note here about "traffic accident," but I don't remember anything about that.
I understand that I'm out-of-town and I think this is a working trip. I think I flew out to get here, but with all the confusion going on, I'm considering driving back home when the job is done. There are pluses and minuses on each side of this decision to fly or drive. I don't recall what they were.
One of the workers -- who still are not doing anything about the door, but seem to be sitting and relaxing (but not watching TV) -- is eating something off a plate. Something with tomato sauce and melted cheese
Somewhere late in the going, Deb shows up and begins to straighten things up. I don't know if the workmen are still there, but I think they are.
The window coverings are very light and frilly curtain material that comes nowhere close to covering the windows. So that, even as I can look out at the people on the street, they can look in at me. Out of curiosity as much as anything else, I tug at one of the curtains and confirm that it barely moves and does nothing to provide privacy.
My major concern is that I can't undress to change clothes or get ready for bed. Safety is also a concern but I think not as much.
I see that there are pull shades available on some, maybe most, maybe all the windows and I pull one of them down to confirm they work. I don't know whether pulling all the existing shades would allow me to change clothes safely, but decide not to pursue the issue and let the shade roll back up. (This bit may be out of place chronologically with the rest of the dream...)
I go to the door to make sure it's closed and discover that the handle/latch mechanism doesn't work, so that, not only can you not lock the door, you can't even make sure the door is closed. I then notice that one of those small slide locks -- a small brass rod that slips into an small brass arch on the frame of the door. I move the rod to the "Locked" position to make sure that the door won't simply drift open -- or someone pushes on the door and it opens. But I know that anyone leaning heavily against the door would dislodge the slide lock completely.
Two workmen "appear" in the next image of the room. I think they're there to fix the door handle/latch mechanism, but they don't seem to be in any hurry to do that. I explain the situation to them and they seem a bit concerned but not surprised.
I turn to the rest of the room and discover that there are 7 TV sets -- all of them "on" -- piled up near one corner of the room. Placed pretty much with their backs against the wall. All of them are the old-style "picture tube" variety rather than modern flat screens and they're all showing black & white images. Some are considerably larger than others. There's very little sound coming from any of them.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the story being told on one of the sets. It's video of an old football game. In the middle of the action, one of the players hands or tosses the ball to the coach (Vince Lombardi?) who throws a pretty good spiral back onto the field where it's caught by one of his players for a complete pass -- and the play is judged to be legal. The announcer is excited: this seems to be the first time in football history anyone has done this -- and it turn out to be legal.
Somewhere around here in the dream, I see an altercation on the street -- I think between two women -- and it looks like it's getting pretty serious. I understand that if gun play starts, that I would be in jeopardy, given the large glass windows and the possibility of a stray bullet... I'm concerned, but don't know what to do about it. Other people out there get involved, separate the two women, and things quiet down.
I also have a note here about "traffic accident," but I don't remember anything about that.
I understand that I'm out-of-town and I think this is a working trip. I think I flew out to get here, but with all the confusion going on, I'm considering driving back home when the job is done. There are pluses and minuses on each side of this decision to fly or drive. I don't recall what they were.
One of the workers -- who still are not doing anything about the door, but seem to be sitting and relaxing (but not watching TV) -- is eating something off a plate. Something with tomato sauce and melted cheese
Somewhere late in the going, Deb shows up and begins to straighten things up. I don't know if the workmen are still there, but I think they are.
Tuesday, July 9, 2019
Bad Dream 90 -- Another scrap date unknown
Following on to Bad Dream 89, I've just discovered another note I wrote to myself after waking up from a dream:
"Major repair bill for the car Signing a problem"
I do recall fuzzy bits, like the dream did not specify what it was that needed repair (suspension? engine? body damage?). And I also recall the frustration I felt in trying to write my name (?) on a form for this work. The paper was large and folded and floppy. The ink line from the pen was far too broad. I couldn't find a solid, flat surface to write on. And when I actually put pen to paper, I wrote down the wrong thing and started hoping that I could get a fresh document to work with -- but didn't expect to get one...
Monday, July 8, 2019
Bad Dream 89 -- Morning of 7/8/19
Actually more of a report on how things are going:
I'm having difficulties "trapping" my dreams for the last several weeks. I think I'm waking up with just too much else on my mind. I'm behind on a whole raft of things that are important to me:
-- the Meeting's Porch Project
-- getting forms filled out for our application to Crosslands
-- my weight
-- selling off a couple of boats
-- and so forth.
I occasionally wake up in mid-night and make a note or two -- which is usually enough to trigger the rest of the dream back to mind. But the notes simply have nothing to attach to. Here are some examples of those notes:
-- "No he's a Cop"
-- Cleaning lady "I have the feeling that's not good for you"
-- Pixie eats wine corks
I would love love love to reattach them to what I dreamed, but alas...
I'm having difficulties "trapping" my dreams for the last several weeks. I think I'm waking up with just too much else on my mind. I'm behind on a whole raft of things that are important to me:
-- the Meeting's Porch Project
-- getting forms filled out for our application to Crosslands
-- my weight
-- selling off a couple of boats
-- and so forth.
I occasionally wake up in mid-night and make a note or two -- which is usually enough to trigger the rest of the dream back to mind. But the notes simply have nothing to attach to. Here are some examples of those notes:
-- "No he's a Cop"
-- Cleaning lady "I have the feeling that's not good for you"
-- Pixie eats wine corks
I would love love love to reattach them to what I dreamed, but alas...
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Bad Dream 88 -- Morning of 6/23/19
In my dream, I am talking with Kira (spelling?), the marvelous young lady who seems to be a Child of the World -- travelling to all sorts of wonderful places and posting on FB occasionally. Always smiling.
She was part of our juggling group for some time, then drifted off. When I see her on the street, she always lights up and gives me a big hug.
In the dream, I'm giving advice as to which of two boats would be best to take on a voyage out on big water. Although in the dream, there's only one boat in evidence. It's a "cabin cruiser" hull that's stripped pretty much down to the hull itself. On the bottom of the boat is a sail, crumpled up.
I tell her that the advantage of sailing is that it's so quiet -- as opposed to the snarl of a gasoline engine. But the hull shape of this boat would work terribly for sailing. And I don't know where the other boat is, so I can't make any comparison.
She was part of our juggling group for some time, then drifted off. When I see her on the street, she always lights up and gives me a big hug.
In the dream, I'm giving advice as to which of two boats would be best to take on a voyage out on big water. Although in the dream, there's only one boat in evidence. It's a "cabin cruiser" hull that's stripped pretty much down to the hull itself. On the bottom of the boat is a sail, crumpled up.
I tell her that the advantage of sailing is that it's so quiet -- as opposed to the snarl of a gasoline engine. But the hull shape of this boat would work terribly for sailing. And I don't know where the other boat is, so I can't make any comparison.
Bad Dream 87 -- Morning of 6/23/19
In my dream, I am sitting on the side of a small hill that is grass covered. Three people are behind me and "creeping up" to me. Two of them are Travis and Frank, and I don't recognize the third. They think I'm doing something dreadfully wrong and they plan to accost me because of that.
The scene shifts slightly and I am in single hand-to-hand combat with one of the three. Not sure which one. I get the best of him -- he's down on the ground looking up -- and he desists from further action like this.
There's some blurry stuff in the dream and then I find myself in a large room with a number of people and someone is calling out something about Social Security numbers.
Analysis
This has to do with the juggling club, obviously but also correctly. I'm pulling back from the group and may, sometime in the future, resign from it completely. (Hey, I'm 72 years old!)
Two of the most active people in the club are Frank and Travis. And it would be logical for one of them to take over as the primary contact person between the club and the School. And with that responsibility comes a considerable level of control. I would be delighted to find the right person to take this over -- somewhere down the road...
I'm concerned that Travis doesn't have the right attitude for this. The right attitude is Gratitude. I'm concerned that Travis' current attitude is Entitlement.
Frank would do a marvelous job, but it would be a challenge for him physically and perhaps mentally.
Since I'm so bound up in the School and Meeting, there's no real chance for an insurrection, and so I can easily defuse any efforts in that direction.
The scene shifts slightly and I am in single hand-to-hand combat with one of the three. Not sure which one. I get the best of him -- he's down on the ground looking up -- and he desists from further action like this.
There's some blurry stuff in the dream and then I find myself in a large room with a number of people and someone is calling out something about Social Security numbers.
Analysis
This has to do with the juggling club, obviously but also correctly. I'm pulling back from the group and may, sometime in the future, resign from it completely. (Hey, I'm 72 years old!)
Two of the most active people in the club are Frank and Travis. And it would be logical for one of them to take over as the primary contact person between the club and the School. And with that responsibility comes a considerable level of control. I would be delighted to find the right person to take this over -- somewhere down the road...
I'm concerned that Travis doesn't have the right attitude for this. The right attitude is Gratitude. I'm concerned that Travis' current attitude is Entitlement.
Frank would do a marvelous job, but it would be a challenge for him physically and perhaps mentally.
Since I'm so bound up in the School and Meeting, there's no real chance for an insurrection, and so I can easily defuse any efforts in that direction.
Sunday, June 16, 2019
Bad Dream 86 -- Morning of 6/16/19
In my dream, I'm riding on a train. For what it's worth, the car I'm in is considerably wider than normal trains. There may, in fact, be two aisles. The car is maybe 15 to 20 percent occupied, and everyone (or almost everyone) is sitting by themselves.
Everyone looks bored and/or tired. (In the real world, most of all of them would be looking at their phones, but phones are not part of this dream.)
I find myself tempted to take some photographs -- but am reluctant to do so. Understandably, folks would take umbrage at being photographed without permission and quite frankly, there's nothing really interesting or even unusual about a train car sprinkled with folks who are bored and/or tired.
But somehow, I find myself standing up with camera in hand and aiming it at folks. And everyone is coming alive and smiling and getting involved. Some are standing as well, some are talking to folks who are nearby, some are walking around just stretching and smiling.
And I know that the only reason that these nice things are happening is that I started taking pictures.
Everyone looks bored and/or tired. (In the real world, most of all of them would be looking at their phones, but phones are not part of this dream.)
I find myself tempted to take some photographs -- but am reluctant to do so. Understandably, folks would take umbrage at being photographed without permission and quite frankly, there's nothing really interesting or even unusual about a train car sprinkled with folks who are bored and/or tired.
But somehow, I find myself standing up with camera in hand and aiming it at folks. And everyone is coming alive and smiling and getting involved. Some are standing as well, some are talking to folks who are nearby, some are walking around just stretching and smiling.
And I know that the only reason that these nice things are happening is that I started taking pictures.
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Bad Dream 85 -- Morning of 6/8/19
This is more of a report on reporting on a dream than actually reporting on a dream:
I remember having a dream full of detail and probably quite meaningful. I awoke shortly after the dream ended and picked up pen and paper to make notes about the dream. So that I would have a "hook" to recall more of the dream when I was fully awake and moving about. Did this without turning on the lights, which is a recommended procedure.
I made one note. It said: "No, he's a spy"
But I can't recall any context whatsoever.
Lesson: it might be a better idea to be a little more explicit -- even at the possibility of losing an hour or two's sleep. Maybe.
Bad Dream 84 -- Morning of 6/10/19
In my dream, I am looking at the fingers of my left hand. I have a skin issue that looks something like a blister that has broken open.
I decide to pull off the loose skin because I recall hearing that bacteria can grow in the space between the loose skin (which is essentially dead) and the live skin underneath. I've done this before in "real life," and typically the skin parts at the place where the dead outer part joins the healthy live part.
To my great distress, the skin just keeps pulling back and back. It felt and looked like pulling the plastic covering off of a recent purchase. A covering that may include the entire object you've purchased.
So the skin underneath what I've pulled back looks perfectly healthy, but I don't know where it will end: if I continue this pulling process, will it uncover the entire finger? the entire hand? the rest of my body?
I wake up.
I decide to pull off the loose skin because I recall hearing that bacteria can grow in the space between the loose skin (which is essentially dead) and the live skin underneath. I've done this before in "real life," and typically the skin parts at the place where the dead outer part joins the healthy live part.
To my great distress, the skin just keeps pulling back and back. It felt and looked like pulling the plastic covering off of a recent purchase. A covering that may include the entire object you've purchased.
So the skin underneath what I've pulled back looks perfectly healthy, but I don't know where it will end: if I continue this pulling process, will it uncover the entire finger? the entire hand? the rest of my body?
I wake up.
Sunday, June 2, 2019
Bad Dream 83 -- Morning of 3/2/19
In my dream, I have driven in my car to our local Agway to pick up some grass seed and straw. I know that our yard has brown patches and I'm looking to make them green and healthy again.
I have several passengers in my car: I think one of them is an unidentifiable, but two others are women who are members of my School of the Spirit class. Melissa (if that's her name -- the lady whose daughter now owns a Gritty shirt) and Elizabeth. The other Elizabeth.
I walk into the Agway, perfectly confident that they have exactly the grass seed that I need. But when I look around in the store, I can't find anything of the sort. No grass seed at all.
There's some confusion in the dream at this point such that birdseed gets into the act. I have a clear recollection of looking down into a bag (I guess) of white millet mixed with other seed. Nice, but not at all what I need.
So I ask one of the sales folks, "Where's the grass seed?" -- expecting to find several varieties for shade, sun, etc. And the clerk informs me that they're all out of grass seed. I am incredulous. Normally the store has good stockpiles of just about everything. But the clerk escorts me to the shelves that normally hold grass seed. And the shelves are completely empty.
I don't even bother asking about straw. It would be of no use without the grass seed.
I have a clear recollection (again...) of looking into my car and seeing the faces of Melissa and Elizabeth. They're smiling and seem to be happy to be in my car and driving around West Chester. This happens somewhere in the middle of the dream.
I have several passengers in my car: I think one of them is an unidentifiable, but two others are women who are members of my School of the Spirit class. Melissa (if that's her name -- the lady whose daughter now owns a Gritty shirt) and Elizabeth. The other Elizabeth.
I walk into the Agway, perfectly confident that they have exactly the grass seed that I need. But when I look around in the store, I can't find anything of the sort. No grass seed at all.
There's some confusion in the dream at this point such that birdseed gets into the act. I have a clear recollection of looking down into a bag (I guess) of white millet mixed with other seed. Nice, but not at all what I need.
So I ask one of the sales folks, "Where's the grass seed?" -- expecting to find several varieties for shade, sun, etc. And the clerk informs me that they're all out of grass seed. I am incredulous. Normally the store has good stockpiles of just about everything. But the clerk escorts me to the shelves that normally hold grass seed. And the shelves are completely empty.
I don't even bother asking about straw. It would be of no use without the grass seed.
I have a clear recollection (again...) of looking into my car and seeing the faces of Melissa and Elizabeth. They're smiling and seem to be happy to be in my car and driving around West Chester. This happens somewhere in the middle of the dream.
Monday, May 27, 2019
Bad Dream 82 -- Morning of 5/26/19
In my dream, I am "campaigning" quite hard to win the affection of a woman. I have a cadre of support people in this campaign. They're all rooting for me to be successful.
The woman is reminiscent of several I have known through the years and have been infatuated (or in love, if you prefer) with. The two principal names are Mary Maguire and Allison Prettyman. I've certainly had a crush on a number of other female persons, but these are more prominent in my mind...
I am in the proximity of this lady, who has her own retinue. She is located on higher ground than me and my people -- and they are residing in tents. The image that comes to mind about our physical locality is the wall around the old courthouse on the Market Street side -- but maybe five feet tall or a little less. I see her wearing a diaphanous garment that might be a robe, as it seems to flow open as she walks. You can see what is possibly a brassiere or swimsuit top or similar garment -- also white -- underneath the robe.
And everyone in the dream -- my people, her people, everyone -- knows how ardent I am about wooing her.
There's something in the dream about my playing a musical instrument, which is either a piano or a violin. Don't recall. But playing the instrument was part of my campaign plan.
I leave my "real" self in the dream for a few moments and am present ("fly on the wall" sort of thing...) in her tent, talking to her advisers. I don't think they're in favor of or opposed to my plea -- they just want to know what to do.
Her words to the retinue about me are -- I was going to say "harsh," but I think the right word is "blunt." She never wants to see me again. Not a hard feeling, necessarily, she just has nothing to say to me and there's nothing she wants to hear from me.
So she's firm on this subject -- and I know her well enough to know that pretty much settles the thought of winning her. But even so, I'm not going to give up. It's painful to be in this position, but I don't see any way out.
Ref: the words to the song "Greensleeves"
Analysis
I find myself in need of intimacy. I think Deb is terrific and I feel fortunate to be married to her. But so much of the time, I feel as if we are the best of friends. Which is good. But not enough.
We went to a marriage counselor several years ago, and I thought we were treading the ground we needed to -- to enhance our marriage in a way I wanted and needed. But so much of the burden of what needed to change lay with Deb. It's not surprising that I felt this way, but the therapist seemed to think the same by the questions she was asking. And I'm not surprised that all that talk and potential openings went nowhere. That I might be asking Deb to be something/someone she isn't. No Good Guys. No Bad Guys.
The woman in the diaphanous gown. The fabric is practically see-through. You can see the real her underneath her clothes. She speaks honestly and directly.
The woman is reminiscent of several I have known through the years and have been infatuated (or in love, if you prefer) with. The two principal names are Mary Maguire and Allison Prettyman. I've certainly had a crush on a number of other female persons, but these are more prominent in my mind...
I am in the proximity of this lady, who has her own retinue. She is located on higher ground than me and my people -- and they are residing in tents. The image that comes to mind about our physical locality is the wall around the old courthouse on the Market Street side -- but maybe five feet tall or a little less. I see her wearing a diaphanous garment that might be a robe, as it seems to flow open as she walks. You can see what is possibly a brassiere or swimsuit top or similar garment -- also white -- underneath the robe.
And everyone in the dream -- my people, her people, everyone -- knows how ardent I am about wooing her.
There's something in the dream about my playing a musical instrument, which is either a piano or a violin. Don't recall. But playing the instrument was part of my campaign plan.
I leave my "real" self in the dream for a few moments and am present ("fly on the wall" sort of thing...) in her tent, talking to her advisers. I don't think they're in favor of or opposed to my plea -- they just want to know what to do.
Her words to the retinue about me are -- I was going to say "harsh," but I think the right word is "blunt." She never wants to see me again. Not a hard feeling, necessarily, she just has nothing to say to me and there's nothing she wants to hear from me.
So she's firm on this subject -- and I know her well enough to know that pretty much settles the thought of winning her. But even so, I'm not going to give up. It's painful to be in this position, but I don't see any way out.
Ref: the words to the song "Greensleeves"
Analysis
I find myself in need of intimacy. I think Deb is terrific and I feel fortunate to be married to her. But so much of the time, I feel as if we are the best of friends. Which is good. But not enough.
We went to a marriage counselor several years ago, and I thought we were treading the ground we needed to -- to enhance our marriage in a way I wanted and needed. But so much of the burden of what needed to change lay with Deb. It's not surprising that I felt this way, but the therapist seemed to think the same by the questions she was asking. And I'm not surprised that all that talk and potential openings went nowhere. That I might be asking Deb to be something/someone she isn't. No Good Guys. No Bad Guys.
The woman in the diaphanous gown. The fabric is practically see-through. You can see the real her underneath her clothes. She speaks honestly and directly.
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
Bad Dream 81 Morning of 5/9/19 (out of sequence)
In my dream I am standing on or near a paved path or small road. I am looking down at the pavement and notice a small plant growing between a couple of the paving elements. It's maybe 4 inches tall and stringy.
I kneel down and pluck the plant cleanly out of the ground -- effectively thereby killing it. After all, it's just a weed. As I'm finishing pulling it out of the ground, I am surprised to see how deeply the roots had grown. I feel sorry for having done this.
Analysis
This was early in Residency 4 -- and it feels as if it applies to my spiritual journey and how it relates to the School of the Spirit:
I am not keeping up with the reading assignments. Not anywhere near. And as a result, I think that the discussions and presentations don't mean as much as they should to me. Instead, I'm just barreling along on my "normal" life journey. And if I continue to do that, I will be
Monday, May 20, 2019
Bad Dream 80 -- Morning of 5/20/19
My dream takes the form of a documentary:
In it, I witness the establishment of a factory on an otherwise pretty vacant piece of land. There is a voice over explaining what is happening.
As the factory is finished and begins production (I have no idea what the "product" is...), workers find it convenient to build houses near the factory. The number of structures grows, as not only are more houses built, but shops are built and open to service the factory workers living close to the plant.
The voice over makes it clear that this process will continue until an entire fully functional town is built. The voice has an edge of pride in it: "Isn't this wonderful progress?"
I am left feeling ambivalent. Yes, it's good that people can live close to where they work and that there is sufficient capital to make everyone comfortable. But is this really progress on a grander scale or simply an interruption of the Natural Way of Things by humans who don't really belong there?
In it, I witness the establishment of a factory on an otherwise pretty vacant piece of land. There is a voice over explaining what is happening.
As the factory is finished and begins production (I have no idea what the "product" is...), workers find it convenient to build houses near the factory. The number of structures grows, as not only are more houses built, but shops are built and open to service the factory workers living close to the plant.
The voice over makes it clear that this process will continue until an entire fully functional town is built. The voice has an edge of pride in it: "Isn't this wonderful progress?"
I am left feeling ambivalent. Yes, it's good that people can live close to where they work and that there is sufficient capital to make everyone comfortable. But is this really progress on a grander scale or simply an interruption of the Natural Way of Things by humans who don't really belong there?
Bad Dream 78 -- Morning of 5/20/19
In my dream, I am at some kind of summer camp. I'm guessing I'm in my late teens or early 20's since that's the age of the other "campers," but I'm not sure of that. We are in one of the camp buildings -- one that has the kitchen facilities in it.
Some kind of Camp Councilor (whom I never see, but we all hear his voice) is announcing that I am going to prepare an egg dish for breakfast. The announcement is something like, "And so, the person delegated to cook the eggs this morning is... Randy Lyons!" And everyone cheers -- somewhat derisively, but completely in good humor. As if the chances of Randy being successful in this endeavor are slim.
I am now standing in front of a bowl with eggs that have been cracked open and poured into the bowl. I see the egg yolks surrounded by the egg whites. I take a fork and begin to stir the contents of the bowl and watch the egg yolks break and blend with the whites.
I am now at the stove -- one of those big black stoves -- with a large, rectangular pan in front of me. I watch as the stirred up eggs are gently slid into the pan and the contents are gently stirred. I don't see my hands doing this; it's as if a third person is magically doing this.
Much to my surprise, the egg concoction turns out to be quite edible and my fellow campers cheer the success. Conversation is lively and pleasant.
But nobody thanks me.
Some kind of Camp Councilor (whom I never see, but we all hear his voice) is announcing that I am going to prepare an egg dish for breakfast. The announcement is something like, "And so, the person delegated to cook the eggs this morning is... Randy Lyons!" And everyone cheers -- somewhat derisively, but completely in good humor. As if the chances of Randy being successful in this endeavor are slim.
I am now standing in front of a bowl with eggs that have been cracked open and poured into the bowl. I see the egg yolks surrounded by the egg whites. I take a fork and begin to stir the contents of the bowl and watch the egg yolks break and blend with the whites.
I am now at the stove -- one of those big black stoves -- with a large, rectangular pan in front of me. I watch as the stirred up eggs are gently slid into the pan and the contents are gently stirred. I don't see my hands doing this; it's as if a third person is magically doing this.
Much to my surprise, the egg concoction turns out to be quite edible and my fellow campers cheer the success. Conversation is lively and pleasant.
But nobody thanks me.
Bad Dream 79 -- Morning of 5/20/19
In my dream, I am in some kind of academic setting -- and looking rather desperately for two books. I know I've had them and I've looked most everywhere I can to find them, but...
In my search, I go to my car and find that someone -- quite possibly me -- has placed a plastic garbage bag over the length of the car seat. (I think it's the front seat and, unlike modern cars, the seat is sofa style rather than individual driver-and-passenger seats.) It's not clear to me whether the plastic is to protect the seat from spillage or other intrusion or whether the seat fabric is torn and the seat is to protect the damage from getting worse.
I don't find the book and start to return to what I guess is the school building. I am now faced with the dilemma of either getting lunch or continuing to look for the books. The books are vitally important, but I'm getting hungry
Analysis
I feel that the dream represents my quandry about trying to keep up with the reading for the Spiritual Nurturer program or go about my daily activities. In which I'm falling farther and farther behind.
I can't seem to find the time to do both, and the situation continues to deteriorate.
Rats.
In my search, I go to my car and find that someone -- quite possibly me -- has placed a plastic garbage bag over the length of the car seat. (I think it's the front seat and, unlike modern cars, the seat is sofa style rather than individual driver-and-passenger seats.) It's not clear to me whether the plastic is to protect the seat from spillage or other intrusion or whether the seat fabric is torn and the seat is to protect the damage from getting worse.
I don't find the book and start to return to what I guess is the school building. I am now faced with the dilemma of either getting lunch or continuing to look for the books. The books are vitally important, but I'm getting hungry
Analysis
I feel that the dream represents my quandry about trying to keep up with the reading for the Spiritual Nurturer program or go about my daily activities. In which I'm falling farther and farther behind.
I can't seem to find the time to do both, and the situation continues to deteriorate.
Rats.
Thursday, May 16, 2019
Bad Dream 77 -- Morning of 5/16/19
In my dream, I am at the shore of the ocean or a large lake. I am helping to retrieve the body of a young woman who -- I guess -- had drowned. She is wearing a bathing suit. I'm the person who is actually carrying her body up onto dry land.
As I lay her down on the sand, gently and carefully, her hands begin to move. Someone shouts, "She's alive!"
As I lay her down on the sand, gently and carefully, her hands begin to move. Someone shouts, "She's alive!"
Bad Dream 76 -- Morning of 5/16/19
In my dream, I am involved with a group something like The School of the Spirit. Some of the other students and I are chatting with one of the teachers about an upcoming assignment.
The assignment involves responding/reacting to a series of "things." I don't remember what those things are, except that they are written documents.
The teacher recommends that we start with number ___ (don't recall) "because it's less closed(?) than the other six. (Although the number given may have been seven.)
Not much to go on...
The assignment involves responding/reacting to a series of "things." I don't remember what those things are, except that they are written documents.
The teacher recommends that we start with number ___ (don't recall) "because it's less closed(?) than the other six. (Although the number given may have been seven.)
Not much to go on...
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
Bad Dream 75 -- Morning of 5/13/19
Just a short section of a much larger dream, but it's shown up several times:
I am looking at a "blackboard" (you know, the metal ones that are actually green) and there is considerable writing on it. Words.
Between two sets of words -- separated horizontally -- there is a streak of red. It might be paint or something like paint. The streak/stripe runs vertically and is roughly 10 or 12 inches long. The ends are not as fully covered as the middle, as if a paintbrush started up there, but didn't fully cover the blackboard surface; then made firm contact with the board; then lifted up leaving a diminishing trail of paint looking just like the top of the stripe.
I have some kind of internal response to seeing the stripe. Satisfaction? Comfort? Just being okay with the stripe?
I am looking at a "blackboard" (you know, the metal ones that are actually green) and there is considerable writing on it. Words.
Between two sets of words -- separated horizontally -- there is a streak of red. It might be paint or something like paint. The streak/stripe runs vertically and is roughly 10 or 12 inches long. The ends are not as fully covered as the middle, as if a paintbrush started up there, but didn't fully cover the blackboard surface; then made firm contact with the board; then lifted up leaving a diminishing trail of paint looking just like the top of the stripe.
I have some kind of internal response to seeing the stripe. Satisfaction? Comfort? Just being okay with the stripe?
Sunday, May 12, 2019
Bad Dream 74 -- Morning of 5/12/19
(This dream took place the first night of Residency 4 of my School of the Spirit experience.)
In my dream, I am standing on a paved surface. It is a road/sidewalk/pathway from somewhere to somewhere else. The paving is divided into fairly large rectangles -- and may be concrete or stone. The blocks are evenly laid and a light gray and/or tan.
I notice that there is a small plant growing in the division between two of the blocks. It is quite thin and maybe 3 or 4 inches tall. It has a leaf or maybe two, but they are also quite small and fragile looking.
I reach down and pull the plant out from between the blocks. I consider this -- as I do this -- to be an act of simply tidying up. We can't allow a plant to grow in the middle of the road/sidewalk/pathway now, can we?
I pull the plant completely free of the ground and am surprised to see how deep the root(s) have grown. Then it makes sense to me that a plant must firmly anchor itself into the ground and also establish an adequate pathway for the moisture and nourishment of the soil to enter the plant's "body."
I am quickly regretful for not giving this action on my part some thought before I pulled the plant out of the ground. And am torn intellectually and otherwise: on one hand, the plant posed a threat to the integrity of the road/sidewalk/pathway if it were allowed to keep growing. On the other hand, it seems by the evidence that the plant was going to be robust and grow into who-knows-what.
I realize that it would be impossible to re-plant the seedling in the space where I pulled it out of. And it seemed to me to be unlikely that the plant would continue growing if I took the time and trouble to re-plant it somewhere else.
In my dream, I am standing on a paved surface. It is a road/sidewalk/pathway from somewhere to somewhere else. The paving is divided into fairly large rectangles -- and may be concrete or stone. The blocks are evenly laid and a light gray and/or tan.
I notice that there is a small plant growing in the division between two of the blocks. It is quite thin and maybe 3 or 4 inches tall. It has a leaf or maybe two, but they are also quite small and fragile looking.
I reach down and pull the plant out from between the blocks. I consider this -- as I do this -- to be an act of simply tidying up. We can't allow a plant to grow in the middle of the road/sidewalk/pathway now, can we?
I pull the plant completely free of the ground and am surprised to see how deep the root(s) have grown. Then it makes sense to me that a plant must firmly anchor itself into the ground and also establish an adequate pathway for the moisture and nourishment of the soil to enter the plant's "body."
I am quickly regretful for not giving this action on my part some thought before I pulled the plant out of the ground. And am torn intellectually and otherwise: on one hand, the plant posed a threat to the integrity of the road/sidewalk/pathway if it were allowed to keep growing. On the other hand, it seems by the evidence that the plant was going to be robust and grow into who-knows-what.
I realize that it would be impossible to re-plant the seedling in the space where I pulled it out of. And it seemed to me to be unlikely that the plant would continue growing if I took the time and trouble to re-plant it somewhere else.
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