Bad Dream 156 -- Eagles at the Old Homestead

In my dream, I am standing in the front yard of 1209 Tupelo Place -- the house where I was brought up from the age of five until I left for college.  

Much to my amazement, there is a Bald Eagle in a small tree close to the street.  It's a beautiful bird -- all turned out in its white-and-black best plumage.  He/she is standing next to a pile of leaves in the tree and pulling/resorting the leaves in what seems to be a purposeful series of motions.  Is it working to start a nest?  Is it looking for something inside?  Can't tell.

I start towards the house to tell my folks about the wonderful sight.  On my way, I look slightly off to my left and realize there is a huge nest there, maybe five feet across.  It's not made of sticks, the way you would expect to see on a typical birds nest.  Instead, it seems to be possibly hardened mud or other something like it.  I know, however, that this is an Eagle's nest and probably the nest of the birds I have just seen.  

I'm a little fuzzy on whether or not I actually point these birds and nest things out to my dad.  If I did, he didn't give much of a reaction.  Like he already knew this.

Bad Dream 155 -- In Cuba with Deb

In my dream, Deb and I are visiting Cuba.  We are standing on a wide concrete jetty or pier looking out towards the water.  

There are maybe 50 or 100 people in front of us, standing in our sight line to the water,  Everyone is standing quite still -- and the scene makes us curious.

We worm our way between people until we can see the water clearly -- and understand why everyone is standing so still.  They are in awe of what they see.  The water is a breathtaking crystal blue, just a bit short of iridescence.  A bit brighter than Robin's Egg blue.

People are standing roughly 8 or 10 feet from the water, and there are a couple of uniformed personnel off to the left who, it would seem, are responsible for keeping people away from the edge of the water.  I don't realize that yet and so approach the edge of the jetty/pier to get the closest look I can.  

I realize that the water is not very deep but running extremely fast.  The stream is quite wide -- maybe 75 feet or so.  It's clear to me that, if you should fall into the water, you would be swept away, and that's why the constabulary are there.  Realizing this, I walk back from the edge to the line that everyone else has formed -- at a respectable distance from the water.  

Shortly after I go back in line, a young boy goes forward to the edge of the water.  I'm a bit concerned that he's simply following my example.  The gendarmes don't try to get the boy to get back away from the edge, which surprises and puzzles me.  After, it would seem, satisfying his curiosity about the water, the boy returns safely to the crowd.

The scene changes a bit, and the crowd seems to be dispersing.  I don't know why.  I see a young boy -- quite possibly the one who had approached the water -- standing next to an elderly many who is probably the child's grandfather.  I go over to the boy and explain to him how dangerous it was to stand that close to water moving that rapidly, but he doesn't react to what I'm saying.  And grandfather doesn't react either.  

Maybe I'm lecturing the wrong kid.  Maybe neither one of them speak English.  Maybe they think I should mind my own business.  

The dream leaves me with a vivid image of the rushing, sparkling-blue water.   

Bad Dream 154 -- Window Fans: Where and Why

When we lived at 419 W. Union Street, our hot summer days were made much more bearable by the strategic placement of large window fans.  The brackets for the fans covered the entire window opening so that there was minimal "backflow" around the fan.  It was fun figuring out the best path for the air -- coming in on the ground floor windows, curving around the stairs to go up and being exhausted out the upstairs windows.  Meaning the fan downstairs blew air in and the one upstairs pulled the air out.  Opening and closing rarely used room doors increased the effectiveness of the system.  

In my dream, I am back at 1209 Tupelo Place with my Mom and Dad.  (1209 was also a two-story dwelling, so my fan approach should be equally effective.  In fact, my Dad had place a similar fan in the upstairs window which looked directly down the staircase.  This was probably my inspiration for my setup at 419.)

My dream probably "takes place" in the summer because I'm concerned that 1209 only has a fan upstairs -- and not one on the ground floor to help push the cool morning air in.  

I ask Mom, "Where's the downstairs fan?  What happened to it?" and she tells me, "Oh, we got rid of it.  We didn't need it."  I start to explain the air path we're looking for to her, but she's not interested in hearing about it.  Dad had been hanging around behind Mom, and he senses this is not going well and that he's going to leave.  Which he does.  

I get pedantic on Mom explaining in excruciating detail how the air comes in here and goes out there and that the warmest air drifts up the stairs to be replaced by cooler air from outside on the ground floor windows yadda yadda.  She's listening politely, but I know she's firm in her opinion that the downstairs fan is unnecessary.  

 

Bad Dream 153 -- Tennis not Tennis

I actually had a dream after this one early this morning,  I made notes on this one, but not the next one.  And I think the next one "erased" part of this one in my memory.  Oh well...

In my dream, I am on a tennis court working to recover my stroke.  (In my waking life, I had actually done this twice against the practice board on Crossland's only tennis court.  It was an abysmal flop.)  In my dream I'm "actually" batting the ball back and forth across a net with someone else.  He reminds me of Mike Friedman from L&N/MAX Controls days.  Except this guy has actually good control over the ball and can place it where he wants it to go.  

I continue to flail away in my dream, much as I did on the Crosslands court.  I think my partner/opponent is doing what he can to support my re-learning effort.  But as it turns out, he's been toying with me -- hitting the ball in places that make my learning effort all the harder.  He's quite pleased with the result, but I'm furious.  As you might guess, that doesn't bother him.  

Something happens at this point in the dream, and I can't recall what it is.  I think I'm still angry at being "played" by this guy, but I find myself sitting in the passenger seat of an Austin Healy Mark 1 Sprite.  Red.  Pretty much the same car that my older brother Richard owned.  We're driving somewhere -- not sure where -- and I'm not at all sure who the driver is.  It may or may not be Richard.  

I think we have a meeting in the parking lot, to which the driver may or may not be invited.  There is an issue of a ticket -- similar to the old-fashioned ticket used at movie theaters and carnivals.  (My notes show the word "tickets" followed by a question mark.)  I don't recall what the ticket was all about, but it seemed to involve me and the person/people I was there to meet with.  I do have a vivid mental image of the ticket being torn. I don't know by whom.

Sorry that I don't have more details here.  As with so many of my dreams here at Crosslands, this one was chock-full of details...

Bad Dream 152 -- Out to Kill Me?

In my dream (as in many of my recent dreams), there is a lot more than what I can remember and write down.  But..

In my dream, I am standing in a large open building (abandoned warehouse?) with a few other people.  The person talking is a man, middle-aged, with white hair.  He's somewhere between "stocky" and fat.  He's wearing a suit that badly needs pressing.  

He's trying to talk some other guy into accompanying him to a place he knows.  He describes several very attractive features of the place and tells this other guy he's sure to enjoy the visit.  This third person seems totally taken with the idea of a visit -- just the two of them -- but I suspect that the heavy-set guy is planning to murder this third person.  I don't know exactly why in the dream, but I am sure that the death of the third person will be advantageous to the heavy set person.  

The scene changes, and now it's just the heavy-set fellow and me in the room.  Now he's trying to talk me into going somewhere with him.  It's a different place than the one he was describing to the third person.  I'm fully aware that this guy means me harm.  

Somehow, I manage to slip out a back door, having convinced the heavy-set fellow that I was going out the front door, but would be right back.  It's dark outside and there's a plowed field there that extends maybe several hundred yards farther out back.  I dig into the plowed soil and come up with a broken ice scraper.  It isn't much of a weapon, but it's all I have.  I start moving quickly across the plowed field.  There is maybe 10 or 20 rows of corn on the far side of the field and, I think, a house.  

I break into a run, but it's difficult on the freshly plowed earth.  I think I hear and/or see the heavy set guy finally emerge from the building, having discovered my ruse.  I think I should be in better shape than he is, but if he has a gun, that may not make a difference.  

Now I'm sure that he's out of the building and can see me running away.  

Bad Dream 151 -- Car Trip Interlude

 (This is a report of the remnants of this morning's dream -- 12/24/21.  It was considerably more complex than this.  It had quite a story line going, but this is all I can recall.)

In my dream, I am in the middle of a trip somewhere.  I am with folks I know, but am not closely attached.  We've just kind of agreed to take this trip together.

There are multiple cars involved in this trip -- and it's never clear in the dream as to where we're headed.  But we seem to know where our destination is, even if it's never clearly stated or understood in the dream.   

We're stopped at a waypoint somewhere, where we can spend some time.  I think we've been on the road for a considerable time and need a respite.  And the cars may need gas and or other servicing.  It's not clear how long that respite will be -- hours or days.  

Some people in our group are traveling together in the same vehicle, but I think I'm all by myself in a rather ratty old car.  There's rust and dents and maybe the doors don't close easily, but it runs well.  

At one point -- seemingly an interlude -- I'm driving my car with several other people aboard.  I think we're in a sizeable parking garage.  I'm a bit peeved at the folks in my car -- maybe they're making fun of the age and condition of the vehicle.  I decide to show off a bit by running the car directly at the wall at a corner of the garage, then putting the car in a 4-wheel drift to turn it in the proper direction for the turn.  It's a turn to the right.  As we approach the wall, sliding, I start to question whether I had properly gauged the speed and direction of the drifting car, so that we may make a large splat on the wall ahead.  The others in my car freak out somewhat, as do I. But we make the turn with a few inches to spare.  They seem impressed, but I recognize that it was simply a matter of having bad tires to make the car start sliding sideways.  

At another point in my dream -- not sure whether this was before or after the above story -- some woman is chastising me for somehow dismantling or disabling one of the seats in my car.  She explains to me why this is a problem for her.  (I forget the details...)  But after she leaves, I go to the area of the car she feels I've sabotaged and simply reconnect a couple of straps so that the seat is once again fully functional.  And I'm peeved that she took the occasion to make such a big fuss about this.  All she had to do was ask and I would have explained and reconnected the straps while she was still there.  

I decide to unpack some of my belongings from the car and move them to the room -- or at least the area in the building where we've stopped -- assigned to me.  I begin to realize that I've taken much too much stuff for this trip, but am now kind of stuck: I either continue to travel with all this stuff or abandon it here.  The only piece of stuff I recall is a boom box much like the one we now have in our "shed" at 140 Crosslands Drive.  

I've unloaded a number of things into this area -- asking myself "Why in the world did I decide to bring this particular thing on a trip like this?"  And after moving maybe 8 or 10 things from my car to my assigned area, I'm told that it's time to pack up and get back under way (or is it "weigh"?).  There seems to be some urgency to be ready to go ASAP, and most everyone -- who have much less stuff than I do -- can respond quickly.  But once again, I'm faced with the dilemma: Do I continue re-packing and possibly get disconnected from the "caravan" or do I abandon my stuff here and now so that I can stay up with the group? 

Bad Dream 150 -- Self Portrait

In my dream, I am looking at a painting that I made of myself.  It shows me from several inches below my shoulders to well over my head.  Personally, I think it's a very good likeness.

I have decided that, while the painting certainly looks like me -- in a very positive way -- that it would benefit if I "cropped" it.  That is, cut down the extraneous parts at the top and (possibly) bottom of the image.  (Interestingly, side-top-side looks okay and might have benefitted if I had painted a bit more on the sides.)  I think it's the case that, if I crop too much, I won't be able to restore the part(s) I removed.  

Since I can't decide how much needs to be cropped, so I ask the opinion of folks standing nearby.  I know most if not all of them, and trust their judgment on what would look best.  Much to my surprise and disappointment, no one wants to suggest anything.  And I don't hear any enthusiasm from anyone about the quality of the likeness.

Some of them point out that there's a lot of blue sky above my head in the painting -- probably too much -- and this could/should be reduced.  Cut off.  But no one is ready to say "So, cut it down to right here" and point to a specific spot on the image.  

 At least one friend looks at the painting and tells me that it doesn't look like me at all.  When I ask him "Why not?" and "What would you suggest I change?" he simply waves his hands at the painting and mutters something incoherently.  Then turns and walks away.

So I'm left in this quandry: I like the image very much, but know that something in the painting should be changed to make it even better.  And that the basic image of me is a good one and reflects well on me -- even if the folks around me don't agree.  So do I change/crop the image and possibly get it wrong and spoil the validity of the image that I see or do I look for someone who would be willing to make a firm suggestion that I could either accept and implement OR simply thank that person and continue looking for someone else?