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.
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