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!"
Thursday, May 16, 2019
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.
Tuesday, April 30, 2019
Bad Dream 73 -- Morning of 4/30/19
In my dream, I am in some large, open space which is somehow business oriented. There are people walking around or sitting on nicely done benches. It's a bit reminiscent of the 30th Street Train Station. People are speaking in small groups quietly, so there's a gentle murmur to be heard.
At least some of these people are waiting for results of medical tests or procedures.
In the middle-ish of the room is a stand set-up as a coffee shop. Nice stone walls set up around it. This is a permanent installation. But there are no chairs or tables specifically for the enterprise, so people just walk up, order coffee and/or snacks, pick up their order, and move along elsewhere.
Jean-Marie is there. My notes are that she says "Just let me ___________." And I don't remember what goes in that blank.
She gets the results from a test -- and that leaves her in anguish. I have the feeling that it had something to do with Seth.
At least some of these people are waiting for results of medical tests or procedures.
In the middle-ish of the room is a stand set-up as a coffee shop. Nice stone walls set up around it. This is a permanent installation. But there are no chairs or tables specifically for the enterprise, so people just walk up, order coffee and/or snacks, pick up their order, and move along elsewhere.
Jean-Marie is there. My notes are that she says "Just let me ___________." And I don't remember what goes in that blank.
She gets the results from a test -- and that leaves her in anguish. I have the feeling that it had something to do with Seth.
Monday, April 29, 2019
Bad Dream 72 -- Morning of 4/29/19
In my dream, I am standing on a lawn outside an office building. I think I'm standing there getting ready to hit practice golf balls, but I'm not absolutely sure about this. (I take practice short-flight balls and a small rectangle of "Astroturf" down to the local park now and then to practice a bit.)
As I look "downrange," I see Steve Lozowski getting ready to hit a golf ball in my direction. I stop what I'm doing, just to make sure I'm not in the line of fire. Steve hits the ball and I watch it soar nicely into the sky.
After it finishes arcing up, it begins to fall -- and it appears to stop in mid-air. I know this can only mean that it is falling directly towards me. I step forward a few paces and hear the "thump" of the ball as it lands closely behind me. Whew.
Steve and I move closer together. No apologies about the near miss with his golf ball. He is excited. He tells me that he has proof that "The election is a fraud." I want to chat with him about this, but he seems to know that I want evidence about this -- out of curiosity if nothing else. He says "Come with me."
The scene changes to a vehicle -- I guess a car -- and there are three passengers: Steve, myself, and a third person that I vaguely know in the dream (but don't know in real life). The third person and Steve are well acquainted and both are excited about their finding about the election. (I find it interesting that this third person does very little in the dream but has a real face, unlike the unidentifiables that show up from time to time.) I'm not driving the vehicle, but I don't recall which of the other two people is driving -- but I think it's Steve.
The motion of the vehicle is barely noticeable from inside and I don't recall anything about the scenery outside the vehicle. Then the vehicle comes to a stop and we remain in the vehicle as it descends on an elevator-type device. If I look out the window, I see rock face which appears to be going up as our vehicle descends. It's the evidence I have that we are descending slowly. Somewhere.
The two other passengers seem equally excited about their discovery and the chance to show the evidence to me.
As I look "downrange," I see Steve Lozowski getting ready to hit a golf ball in my direction. I stop what I'm doing, just to make sure I'm not in the line of fire. Steve hits the ball and I watch it soar nicely into the sky.
After it finishes arcing up, it begins to fall -- and it appears to stop in mid-air. I know this can only mean that it is falling directly towards me. I step forward a few paces and hear the "thump" of the ball as it lands closely behind me. Whew.
Steve and I move closer together. No apologies about the near miss with his golf ball. He is excited. He tells me that he has proof that "The election is a fraud." I want to chat with him about this, but he seems to know that I want evidence about this -- out of curiosity if nothing else. He says "Come with me."
The scene changes to a vehicle -- I guess a car -- and there are three passengers: Steve, myself, and a third person that I vaguely know in the dream (but don't know in real life). The third person and Steve are well acquainted and both are excited about their finding about the election. (I find it interesting that this third person does very little in the dream but has a real face, unlike the unidentifiables that show up from time to time.) I'm not driving the vehicle, but I don't recall which of the other two people is driving -- but I think it's Steve.
The motion of the vehicle is barely noticeable from inside and I don't recall anything about the scenery outside the vehicle. Then the vehicle comes to a stop and we remain in the vehicle as it descends on an elevator-type device. If I look out the window, I see rock face which appears to be going up as our vehicle descends. It's the evidence I have that we are descending slowly. Somewhere.
The two other passengers seem equally excited about their discovery and the chance to show the evidence to me.
Sunday, April 28, 2019
Bad Dream 71 -- Morning of 4/28/19
I missed capturing a extended dream this morning. I think I had it until I rolled over in bed. And poof. Gone.
But after that, I had this "Word Dream":
The Voice of my Dream said something to "My Best Friend." I'm not sure whether it was a voice telling Me that I was his/her/its Best Friend or whether I (that is, the "Now Me") was speaking to someone else. But the words were "If I made a knife, I would make you one too."
There was a response -- once again, not sure which end of the conversation was the Now Me -- expressing a surprise that ordinary people could make a knife. Now, to be clear, we're talking about a folding kind of knife (as in Jackknife or Swiss Army) rather than a single blade like a dagger. As I recall, my brother made several knives of the single-blade variety.
What came to mind after this expression of surprise was the image of a catalog page with a variety of possible blades to be included, such as a large or small blade, scissors, screwdrivers, etc.
There was a little bit attached after the above conversation. Something about someone who looked like he came from India (or somewhere else where a man's complexion looked like that) who would not be allowed to have a knife. Not because it would make him dangerous, just because he was Indian or whatever.
I knew this was wrong and felt bad about it, but knew I couldn't do anything about it.
Analysis
I've carried a pocket knife for years and found it most helpful again and again. Almost always a Victorinox Swiss Army variety. It's often a little bit of reassurance when I ask myself "Have you got your SAK with you?" and respond in the affirmative.
As with a number of inanimate objects in my life, I feel some emotional attachment to my knife, as it is a problem solver when nothing else would do.
I have lost or misplaced my SAK on a number of occasions; and on two or three occasions, I've had to surrender my knife to airport security folks because I forgot to pack it. So I've had numerous individual knives throughout the years.
I get the feeling there may be some wordplay involved here that I haven't yet deciphered...
There could certainly be something Freudian going on here as well...
The only two images I had in the dream were the page with knife optional blades (which might have been a computer display) and an image of a man with dark skin. But not African-American.
But after that, I had this "Word Dream":
The Voice of my Dream said something to "My Best Friend." I'm not sure whether it was a voice telling Me that I was his/her/its Best Friend or whether I (that is, the "Now Me") was speaking to someone else. But the words were "If I made a knife, I would make you one too."
There was a response -- once again, not sure which end of the conversation was the Now Me -- expressing a surprise that ordinary people could make a knife. Now, to be clear, we're talking about a folding kind of knife (as in Jackknife or Swiss Army) rather than a single blade like a dagger. As I recall, my brother made several knives of the single-blade variety.
What came to mind after this expression of surprise was the image of a catalog page with a variety of possible blades to be included, such as a large or small blade, scissors, screwdrivers, etc.
There was a little bit attached after the above conversation. Something about someone who looked like he came from India (or somewhere else where a man's complexion looked like that) who would not be allowed to have a knife. Not because it would make him dangerous, just because he was Indian or whatever.
I knew this was wrong and felt bad about it, but knew I couldn't do anything about it.
Analysis
I've carried a pocket knife for years and found it most helpful again and again. Almost always a Victorinox Swiss Army variety. It's often a little bit of reassurance when I ask myself "Have you got your SAK with you?" and respond in the affirmative.
As with a number of inanimate objects in my life, I feel some emotional attachment to my knife, as it is a problem solver when nothing else would do.
I have lost or misplaced my SAK on a number of occasions; and on two or three occasions, I've had to surrender my knife to airport security folks because I forgot to pack it. So I've had numerous individual knives throughout the years.
I get the feeling there may be some wordplay involved here that I haven't yet deciphered...
There could certainly be something Freudian going on here as well...
The only two images I had in the dream were the page with knife optional blades (which might have been a computer display) and an image of a man with dark skin. But not African-American.
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