Bad Dream 125 -- Morning of 6/15/20

Another dream that showed up relatively late.  Rather than 2:00 or thereabouts, this showed up around 4:40 or 5:00 this morning.  I was so delighted with the dream that I posted the following on Facebook:

Some of you already know that I've been studying Dream Analysis for the last several years. I'm now keeping a Dream Diary with over 120 entries and counting.

I'd like to share a dream I had this morning -- not because it is loaded with Important Content (some of them are!), but because it's lighthearted and pleasant:
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In my dream, I am standing near a tall tree. I have a fairly large white metal sign with writing on it that I wish to hang from the tree so that others can read the writing. (The words on the sign are multi-colored, but the dream does not include information about what the writing says. Dreams are like that.)

I see a pair of branches overhead -- almost parallel to the ground -- that are a good height from which to hang the sign. And the sign has holes at all four corners so that it can be properly tied up and suspended between the two branches. Unfortunately, the branches are just a little bit too far apart for proper alignment of the sign.

So I convince an octopus to climb up into the tree, grab the upper branch with two tentacles and the lower branch with another pair of tentacles. And pull them together a bit so that I can tie up the sign. The octopus doesn't require much convincing and seems genuinely pleased to help.

The octopus performs his/her task beautifully and it becomes an easy job for me to secure all four corners of the sign in place. End of dream.
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Now you see, this is why I place so much confidence in Dream Analysis as being a pathway for my Unconscious Self to communicate with the rest of me. I consider myself to be a reasonably clever person, but there's no way the Conscious Me would ever come up with such a delightful, inventive story. And this is something I feel about most of the dreams that I've been documenting: I'm just not that clever, that inventive.

BTW, if you'd like to discuss Dream Analysis in any context, please let me know. Dreams are often best handled by small groups of interested people.

Bad Dream 124 -- Morning of 6/14/20

It should be noted that this dream showed up after I had been awake for a while and gone back to sleep -- I think twice.  I spent much mental "time and energy" this morning worrying about the future.  Will our country manage to hold itself together in the face of all these challenges showing up at once?  It feels like this anxiety was an important part of the dream, but I don't know how.  Just yet...  Also, I didn't write up the dream until late Sunday afternoon and early evening.

In my dream, I am standing in an old, large garage.  It feels just too large to be a single person's -- or family's -- garage but the stuff that's in it feels like personal property. Much of the detail of what's in the garage remain just a sideline to the "gist" of the dream, but I seem to recall some gardening equipment, a gas can or two -- that sort of stuff -- placed around the walls of the garage.  All of it casually placed and somewhat dusty/grimy/dirty.  

In retrospect, I find it a bit odd that I didn't have a car or even a thought about a car.  Great big garage.  No vehicle to put in it. 

But I do remember a motorcycle.  A black Honda twin from the 1960's.  In the dream, I recall thinking it was a 305cc engine -- and looking closely to confirm that.  Yes it is.  I feel somewhat smug for knowing that.  

But I know it isn't my bike and I am getting tired of it taking up room in the garage.  And the fuel tank is dusty, so it hadn't been used in quite some time.  So I lift the side kickstand and wheel it out to the street curb.  I think the owner will get a bit shirty about this, but I think he has it coming to him.  

(I don't remember the order of the next two phases of the dream.  They may have happened in the reverse order of my writeup.)  

I am back inside the garage.  I notice a door on the side of the garage.  The wall is made of brick, and the door is nicely made -- if a bit tired -- with a rounded top.  Then I notice that the brick pattern around the door indicates pretty clearly that this wasn't the original door.  The original door was much wider and taller, and the space between that original brick door frame and the newer round-top door is filled in with a well-done pattern of bricks.  I wonder what that original door was meant to be used for.  It's much too large for people but too small for a vehicle entryway.  The "new" door is properly sized for people, but maybe two feet above the floor.

The owner of the Honda shows up but is not surprised to see his machine at the curb rather than inside the garage.  He's a short round nebbishy looking fellow.  His concern, which he voices loudly is "Where's my helmet?"  I look down at my feet and see a bright red half helmet.  Stupid looking, but befitting the bike and its owner.  I tell him "It's in here, sitting right next to your helmet."  The owner grumbles something and starts walking in.  

(My notes from this morning next say "I want crying uncontrollably."  I think my dream self is doing just that.  Crying uncontrollably.  And feeling that if he/I keep at it, the crying will drain off the anxiety that I'm feeling.)

The next part of my dream involves my Mother.  It's very unusual for my dreams to include her, but it's good in this case to be close to her.  (There's something in my notes about " something something, but the flows are not the same.  This could be water or energy, but it's important to know that there are two separate systems of the flow.  There's also something about Eddystone, which refers to a power plant where I taught several courses ever so long ago.)

I see that my Mother is seated and has her hand wafting slowly over a used  electronic panel.  It looks very much like the horizontal mother board of an old-fashioned TV set.  I'm concerned because I recall that there are big whacking capacitors on some of these modules, and that touching one of them if it's charged could release a considerable amount of electrical power.  I don't want my Mother to get hurt.

I wake up -- more because this is my third wake up of the morning rather than that my dream is complete.  

Bad Dream 123 -- Morning of 6/4/20

(I didn't get around to writing up this dream until about 30 hours after it took place.  So some of the details are a bit fuzzy and possibly inaccurate...)

In my dream, I am taking an exam.  It's a math exam -- and back at college, I struggled with math considerably -- taught by a woman teacher.  (I had a woman teacher -- PhD in math -- and did particularly miserable in her classes.)  But the teacher is not in evidence for the exam.  

Knowing that I'm up against a serious challenge in the exam, I get to the classroom early to  get situated and properly prepared.  There are two other people in the classroom when I arrive: Ricky Coburn and an unidentifiable.  (Ricky lived quite close to me and we did, in fact, share some classes back in High School.  We didn't get along at all, but I don't think there was any antagonism there.  Just different circles of people.  But I did beat Ricky in our elementary school's spelling bee.  He and I were the last two contestants and he blew a word that I knew how to spell.  I think he left the stage in tears.  I felt sorry for him -- watching him go offstage -- and wished that maybe the end result had gone the other way.  Ricky had an older brother -- Rusty -- and he was the same age as my older brother -- Richard -- and I think there was some serious animosity there, but I never knew why...)  

As suggested, I was expecting an exam with some very difficult questions and exercises on it -- and the two other people in the room seem to be working quite hard.  And now the room has a number of other students in it -- all of whom seem to be working hard.  When I look at my test paper, however, the questions look to be rather easy.  I wonder if something is going on that I should feel so  comfortable while everyone else seems to be struggling.  Do I not have the same test paper as everyone else?  

As I settle in to working on the test, there is some chatter starting up between various members of the class.  I don't think they're talking about the test -- giving each other answers or suggestions about how to approach any particular question -- they're just chatting.  

The chatter gets a bit louder, and I find I can't concentrate with all this talking going on.  (I think) I call out and ask for some quiet -- this is, after all, a test we're taking.  There is some agreement with my concern and the chatter decreases.

But one guy, a heavy set fellow, who starts loudly complaining that there's been too much noise.  That he can't concentrate on the test and it wasn't fair and on and on.  He doesn't seem to recognize that, at this point, almost all the noise in the room is his own talking, and he is now interfering with everyone's taking the test.  

I'm pretty fed up with how this is going -- especially since I feel my chances of doing okay on the test were improving until all this noise -- and I yell at this one guy talking and tell him, "Shut Up!!"  He looks surprised and offended.  I start getting concerned because he looks like he could be dangerous -- and certainly that he may continue talking, but start complaining about me calling him out.  And all of this interferes with all of us working on the exam!  

Bad Dream 122 -- Morning of 5/31

(It should be noted that I had this dream on a Sunday morning.  The next day, a small group of us from Meeting are to visit John Rudibaugh's house to see work performed by one of the two contractors left in the running for work on the Meetinghouse.)

In my dream, I am scheduled to play golf with John Rudibaugh at his club.  When I get to the club, I find I need to park my car on the grass on the wrong side of the road at a spot a considerable distance from the clubhouse.  It's not that the normal parking lot is crammed with cars, it's just that their parking lot is pretty small.  I find all of this a bit puzzling.  I don't mind the walk, but I would have thought that John's club would be a great deal more "pinkies up" than this.  

The scene changes to being out on the course.  It's my turn to hit, and I'm only a couple of feet away from the hole and just off the putting surface.  There's a rather gaping hole in the turf between my ball and the "safe" putting surface.  The ground is depressed, hardened clay, marked by holes, and there's a large rock directly in my "line of fire."  

I can see my ball easily enough, but I can't see the hole.  Someone (possibly John) pulls back some grass and shows me a brown/purplish cover on top of what I imagine is the hole.  I'm not at all clear how I'm supposed to hit my ball so that it falls into this covered hole, but at the moment, that's a secondary issue.  The primary issue is that I need to loft the ball enough to carry it over this gaping hole -- which is maybe 18 to 24 inches across -- and then have the ball stop close to the hole.  Lots of backspin needed to get this done. 

By this time, the ball is no longer beside this gaping hole, it's in it.  And not too far from the large rock. So the shot will require even more loft and spin.  I place the face of my wedge close to the ball and start to figure out how I need to hit the ball to accomplish this really tricky shot.  As the clubface touches the hardened clay, the clay collapses, causing my ball to roll away a bit and then fall down into one of the several deep holes.  It rolls out of sight.  Clearly, there's no way in the world I can find the ball much less hit it with a golf club.

I reach into my pocket to retrieve another golf ball and discover that neither of the two remaining balls I have is playable.  One is round, but less than half the size of a regulation golf ball.  The other is roughly the right size but seriously oblong.  

I know that I brought a bunch of golf balls with me, but the rest of them are all back in my car.  I apologize to John and whomever else is nearby and go running back to my car.  

I am now returning to the golf course, and am surprised that the course seems to be closed.  No one is out there playing golf.  I walk into the clubhouse and over to the dining room area.  There are tables, but most of them are unoccupied.  But there's a crowd back by what looks like a lunch counter: all the front stools are occupied and there are many folks (all men) fanned out behind them.  At the center of all this activity is John Rudibaugh.  Food is being brought out from the kitchen and dispensed to several folks.  

I know it would be a mistake to try to get John's attention.  He seems to be enjoying being the center of attention, and I would be an unwelcome distraction.  And I can't think of any reason why I should bother trying to get his attention.  

I wake up.  

Bad Dream 121 -- Morning of 5/16/20

In my dream, I am driving my car down a 4-lane busy highway that has been pretty much fully developed.  It's one strip mall after another.  

I am looking for a particular shop or office or other facility, which should be on the right side of the road.  I've visited this place on previous occasions, but have difficulty recognizing it quickly enough as I drive that I don't pass it by.  So I'm paying attention to my driving as I look off to the right as the strip malls go by.  There are a few "waypoints" that I recognize, assuring me that I'm going in the right direction on the right road.

As I approach the top of a rise in the road, I see a large sign -- basically yellow -- that I recall having seen on previous trips to this facility.  So I set myself up for turning off the road sometime soon.  I realize too late that I should have turned off at the collection of stores and offices where the yellow sign was.  I realize this because the road in front of me has changed drastically.  It's now a large expanse of carefully kept grass -- possibly a golf course.   

The scene changes again as I realize I need to find a restroom sometime soon -- and this is more important than getting to the facility I was trying to get to.  I find myself in what may be a large old house that's fairly bare of furniture, etc. and I'm walking into the bathroom.  I am then walking out of a bathroom and towards a door that I know will lead me outside.  There's a woman sitting on a high stool near the door, and she clearly hopes/expects me to pay a fee.  I decide not to pay her.  She smiles at me as I walk past and out the door.  

I am now outside and looking at a gravel-paved parking lot.  It's nearly empty.  I am now inside my car and need to park it somewhere in this large nearly empty parking lot.  I consider one space but think it's too close to a large piece of machinery which might be farm equipment or something used for road repair.  

I finally decide on a place to park my car, but I'm not sure it won't be damaged if someone gets too close to it.  But it's safe enough...

I am now out of my car and am engaged in some light conversation with two boys, roughly 12 and 14 years old.  There is a granite mile marker shaped as an obelisk roughly 4 or 5 feet tall that, for reasons unknown, needs to be moved.  The two boys are bragging that they are related to can lift and carry this large heavy stone all by himself.  I find that I can do the same thing, although the dirt that clung to the bottom of the stone is getting my clothes and my shoes dirty. 

Bad Dream 120 -- Morning of 5/6/20

In my dream, I am standing rather high above a river valley -- looking pretty much straight upriver or downriver.  Can't tell which.  It's a beautiful scene with the wide river nestled between to gentle grassy slopes with an occasional stand of trees.  There may have been a few houses, but not many.

Into this lovely image, I see a large passenger airplane flying breathtakingly low.  It's maybe a quarter mile away in front of me.  Its path is directly over the water and following the path of the river as well.  It's maybe 5 or 10 feet above the water as it flies.  I can't hear any sound from the plane, so I imagine that the engines are off and the plane is simply flying "deadstick."

As I watch in both admiration and trepidation, the plane gently drops a little lower until it skims the surface of the water.  I can tell exactly where the plane has touched down, then rises off the surface again by the wake it leaves on the surface of the water. 

It touches down a second time -- much like the first -- and then a third time, where it stays on the surface of the water.  It occurs to me that the pilot has done these "touchdowns" in an effort to lose speed, so that it will come to rest at the slowest possible velocity.  

The pilot is wonderfully successful: not only has the plane avoided capsizing or pitchpoling into the water, but it has skidded to a stop up against one of the banks of the river.  Everyone on board should be perfectly safe.  

Change of scene: I am now standing in a crowd of people who are either passengers just off the plane or passers-by that want to know what's going on or who knows what all else.  There's mild chatter among all these people as they mill around.  No one seems to know what's happening or what to do next.  I simply want to know what happened to cause the plane to make this forced landing and congratulate the captain if I can, but at this point, rumors and made-up stories are likely to abound.  So getting valid information seems unlikely.

I then realize that I'm on the opposite side of the river from where I started. And there are no apparent bridges that will allow me to get back to where I belong.  And swimming across the river is not an option.

I find myself inside a small concrete structure without windows or doors.  A structure that seems to be at the edge of the crowd.  Openings for both windows and doors, but they are wide open to the air.  There are a few people milling around nearby, but nothing like the crowd outside.  

On the concrete floor, there is a channel cut into the floor.  There is water running quietly through the channel.  I know this is river water I'm looking at -- flowing with the current of the entire river.  I realize that if I can get to the other side of this channel, I can easily return to where I belong, but the channel is something like 2 feet across, and if I misstep, I could be swept away.  As I ponder what to do, a man standing nearby approaches the channel and easily steps to the other side.  Easy peasy.  

So I step across the channel.  More easy peasy.  

I wake up.  

Bad Dream 119 -- Morning of 5/2/20

To understand this dream, it's probably important to know two things:

 -- I stopped doing any repair work on my car many years ago.  I just wasn't very good at it -- and the newer the car, the more it needs to be done at a competent garage.

 -- The camera that shows up in the dream is my most recent one: a Canon EOS 5D Mk IV.  People shoot magazine covers and award-winning photos with this camera.  It's a much better camera than I am a photographer.  

Having said that:

In my dream, I am working to repair my car.  I am on the grass-covered ground and working in driver's side front wheel well.  There is a rusty nut holding a rusty bolt into place, and that assembly needs to be taken apart.  I have the appropriate socket on a ratchet wrench, but just enough clearance to get a couple of clicks with the handle before I need to reposition it.  I'm surprised that the nut is coming loose so easily -- I thought I would have to soak the two pieces with a lubricant and let them sit for an hour, so I'm pleased.  I continue moving the ratchet handle back and forth and watching the nut move towards coming off.  

But then, something changes and the nut no longer moves towards coming off the bolt.  And as I turn it more with the wrench, it seems to be counterproductive.  I start trying to figure out what's going on.  

(Major shift in dream images.)

I turn around and sit up on the ground still trying to figure out what the problem with the bolt and nut might be.  I see a pair of young men somewhere in their late teens walking past my work area.  They look at me with a bit of amusement in their faces.  One of them picks up a piece of paper -- clearly litter -- off the ground and looks to do something worthwhile like put it in a trash can when he finds one.  

The guys are walking between me and a table which I have used to hold stuff while working in this area (probably my back yard, but this isn't perfectly clear).  I look over at the table top and realize to my great distress that my camera isn't on the table any more. I chastise myself for leaving the camera unattended.  It's something I simply don't do.  

I don't recall anybody else passing by while I was working, but it might be the case that someone did, helped himself/herself to my camera and continued walking away.  But since I'd probably never have a chance to retrieve it if that's what happened, I confront the two fellows in front of me.  

At first they both absolutely deny having taken my camera.  But I do something (look angry? make a threat?  I don't recall...) which causes them to change their story.  Yes, they did take the camera and they promise to bring it back that evening.

So I'm in a quandary.  I'm upset because I've lost my camera, but I'm hopeful that the two young men in front of me are serious that I will get it back later that day.  But if I do get it back, what will folks have done with it during the day?  Will it even work when I see it again? In fact, will I ever see it (or these two young men) ever again?

I wake up.