mjh's blog

School Bus (a dream)

I looked out the front door of our house to see a school bus across the street. The bus driver was Gail Joralemon (a friend). A very long leash trailed out the driver’s window to Luke (our new dog), who was trotting around – and under – the bus. I ran down the street, not behind the bus but on a course to intercept it at the stop sign at the corner. I could see Gail in the review mirror the whole time I ran. She turned her head and saw me as she slowed to a stop.

- – - – -

In telling this dream to Merri, I suddenly realized that my house was on the east side of the street in the dream, but the west side in the real world. Mirror dream (in more than one way).

Drive (a dream)

I was riding in the backseat of my Mom’s convertible. Robert Coontz was driving – and fast! Smithka was in the other front seat – or was it Merck? He (whichever) asked me how things are going. I replied, “I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately.” I added, “often transcendental,” wondering if I’d chosen the right word.[*] Robert zipped through generic narrow East Coast streets. I realized he was going the wrong way down a one way street. As the road curved right, Robert yelled, “almost missed it!” and pulled hard left, leaving the road. I thought I was going to die as we crashed through bushes to a stop.

Standing outside the car, I was trying to gather a mess of colorful strings and rags (parachute? hammock?). Michal Patten walked up and said something. I woke up.

[*] Surreal seems more apropos of a dream in which I discuss my dreams – possibly with a dead man.

Now, *That’s* Entertainment (a dream)

I was in a movie theater. Some seats were vacant, but there were people in every row. No one was with me, but a woman sat a couple of seats over, on the aisle, with me against the upholstered wall. The crowd was a little rowdy. Someone in front of me passed back a sandwich wrapped in plain paper. I didn’t take it, so the woman grabbed it, giving me a “are you kidding?” look. The previews started and seemed to go on forever. One preview didn’t seem to be a preview – it seemed like a movie had started, but not the one I expected. Abruptly, the preview/movie stopped, the curtains closed and the lights went up. The hubbub around me didn’t change to indicate any outrage that we hadn’t seen our movie. I decided to leave, gathering up my jacket and camera bag.

On the way out, I stopped at the office, which was large and surrounded by plexiglass. A crude slot was cut into the plastic near one of the half dozen office denizens. I leaned toward the slot and the worker did as well (unconsciously bowing to each other). I said, “I feel sick. Can I get a refund?” (Why not just tell the truth, I wondered.) “Sure,” he said, “it’ll just take some time.” I looked at him and he looked back very meaningfully: “Seriously, it’ll take a while.” He produced a half-sheet form which required the signature of a supervisor. He mentioned an odd amount that was less than I had paid, but better than nothing.

As I waited, I noticed other people standing nearby. I reached into my pocket and pulled out two lens caps, one much smaller than the other. I dropped the smaller lens cap and started looking for it on the floor, which had several lens caps of various sizes. Somebody held up a much-too-large cap and cracked a cryptic joke. Not my lens cap.

A group of athletic men in suits appeared, raving about Windows 7. (I guessed they had just seen the movie I wanted to see.)

I decided to give up on my refund. When I went back to the window slot, there was now an area several feet across between my side of the glass and the office. This area was like a terrarium. A small tree leaned up and over the glass, into the office. Near the edge where the tree hung over the glass, a half dozen or more turtles were climbing the tree, trying to get into the office. A small turtle slipped and fell back into the terrarium.

As I made my way towards the street, I thought Merri might be worried, so I used my cell phone to call her. She was fine. We talked for a moment before I woke up.

Picture This

I was walking in a dreamlike version of our neighborhood. We looked over a low wall into a classic southwestern yard – gravel, brush, weeds – and saw two roadrunners. Then, I noticed two smaller, younger roadrunners, though too big to call chicks. I asked Mer, “Did you see the babies?” I looked again and, now, the two smaller birds were on the back of yet another, medium sized juvenal roadrunner (fifth bird not previously seen). The two smaller birds were stacked 1-2-3 on the back of the third bird (er, fifth bird). All five birds were moving constantly around the yard. As our group moved on down the street, Dr Dave Mehlman, ornithologist, asked me, “Did you get a picture?” From down the block, Mer responded, “I have a camera!” “You have my camera,” I said. She handed it over and I moved quickly back to the roardunner yard. I turned the camera on without first removing the lens cap, which caused the cap to pop off on its own. I looked down at the unnaturally large camera to see a setting I’ve never seen before, like 2 battery terminals lit up. The camera made strange noises and the moment it clicked, I tossed it, sure it was going to blow up in my hands. Instead, the camera bounced slightly as it hit the ground. When I picked the camera up, the arms connecting the absurdly large LCD screen to the camera (on top, instead of at the back) were bent. I straightened the connection out as best I could and returned to the yard.

As I framed a shot of the five roadrunners, they were about to dash around a corner and out of sight. Suddenly, Mer rushed forward with several people. “I brought more people to see,” she said.

At the this point, the roadrunners were gone, replaced by five small mountain lions. One of the three young was aggressively pouncing on the other, smaller cats. I said, “We’ve got to get away. If those lions come over the wall, we’re in trouble.” I was running up some stairs, looking for the best place to hide when I woke up.

Leap of Faith

In the dream, I was a passenger in a vehicle on a narrow mountain road. I don’t know if it was a truck or car. I did not see the driver. The vehicle started to cross a narrow bridge consisting of a thick solid slab of concrete no wider than the vehicle and without any guardrails. I decided to get out and follow the vehicle, which soon was out of sight. I came to the end of the bridge, where there was a gap of several feet before the dirt road continued to wind along a cliff face and disappear. I had a long view out over the mountainous landscape. I wondered how the vehicle had passed this point. I studied the gap and the cliff face and whether I could jump successfully. The alarm clock solved my problem.

Dream Library

In the dream, I stood outside a small brick building, an old library. I was after one specific book. I entered the library and walked to where I expected to find the book, wondering if I would be allowed to check out a reference book. The interior of the library consisted of one small room with only a few low shelves clustered in the middle. There were only a few books and magazines scattered on the largely empty shelves. I decided to ask for help.

I walked over to a group of people, men and women, some seated at desks, some standing around chatting. They ignored me. I tried to make eye contact. Eventually, I said to one, “Can you help me find a book?” “You’ll have to talk to Michele,” she replied, referring to the woman standing next to her. Michele came around from behind a desk and walked with me towards the sparse shelves. “Which book do you want?” “Strunk & White.” She laughed, “We haven’t had that in a hundred years, I bet.” “I know you had it – I used it! Nevermind.,” I said, turning away.

I stood next to a door marked Emergency Only. Next to that door were two other doors. I could not figure out which of these doors was an exit. Although they were obviously doors, I didn’t see handles or hinges. Between the two doors was a square opening. I decided to go that way.

I was descending, but this wasn’t a tunnel or a stairway. Instead, the passage consisted of a series of restaurant booths, each a little lower than the previous. I climbed over the vinyl benches, descending. The last booth was occupied by a young couple. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to dismount here,” I said as I picked my way around them.

Next to the last booth was a serving station. A waitress appeared and said something. “Excuse me?”, I responded. “I said, ‘You look like you’ve put on some weight.’,” she said, smiling. I said to her, “I wish I needed a girlfriend – you’d be good one.” I woke up.

peace,
mjh

PS: Many people doggedly follow Strunk & White. I do not.

http://www.edgewiseblog.com/mjh/category/dreams/

Old Friends (a dream)

In the dream, I was sitting at the end of a long table in a setting like a library, although it may have been a restaurant. I was talking with a man from Indian. One of us spoke of another person we might both know. Another man from India joined us. (Not the person we had just discussed.)

My Droog, John Merck, appeared nearby, letting his presence be known without interrupting the discussion.

I got up from the table to hug John, who was much younger than he is in real life. When we ended our hug, John said, "You’re wearing potato pants!" I didn’t notice anything odd about my pants and John did not explain his remark.

John began to speak in an odd mock-accent he intended to be funny. I couldn’t understand much of what he said, even when he repeated it, but I knew there was a joke in the message as well as the medium. I was irritated.

Another old friend appeared in young form: Charlene came up with a 10 year-old dark-haired boy. I awoke.

Struggle (a dream)

In the dream, I heard a woman describe a nearby body of water as too polluted to swim in. At that moment, I found myself standing on a rectangular concrete block a bit more than two square feet. This block was barely covered by water, although, somehow, my feet (socks, no shoes) were not wet. I was standing in the aforementioned polluted body of water, which appeared to be a reservoir. The block was part of a wall or walkway that formed a semicircle curving off to a point to my right about a quarter mile away. I realized I had to walk along the top of this wall to that distant point without falling into the polluted water. I walked, mostly confidently, nervous a few times.

Suddenly, there was an upheaval like a wave and the wall/walkway surged to the right. "It moves?!," I cried out loud with some exasperation. Somehow, I did not spill from my footing even as the wall swept to the right, toward the edge of the reservoir. This edge had a chain link fence atop another wall. I considered that I might be better off crawling along that wall, clinging to the fence, than taking my chances with the movements of the wave-wall.

The wall I was standing on began to move back, as if with a retreating wave and I decided to jump to the fence-wall. I fell into the water but scrambled out. I realized I might be worse off, because this wall had a very narrow ledge I had to stand on while clinging to the fence, but I had no other choice at this point.

I slid along the ledge, clinging to the fence. In places, the wall had pillars I had to squirm around.

In a few places, spiders had nests. These spiders were large, dull-black, and squarish, like badly drawn black widow spiders. I had to watch my movements even more closely as I maneuvered around the spiders.

Eventually, I arrived at a wall that was 90 degrees to the fence. I worked my way around the wall and the last spider. Around one corner I encountered three other people, stuck in similar circumstances. The farthest of the three could not go on, frozen with despair or fear. How was I going to get around this new roadblock?

I took the hand of the person closest to me and leaned away from the wall, my feet still on the narrow ledge. Like a pendulum, I swung out and around the other people and came back to the wall beyond the immobile one. This so delighted them all that hope was restored and I woke up.

Ich Traumte

The dream had been going on for a while before I became aware of it. In the dream, a group of us were preparing to depart a foreign city. I was gathering my belongings, which seemed to be scattered around several cluttered rooms. Two women I didn’t recognize asked if I had and extra ball cap. I said not to worry, I had five but wasn’t sure where they were at the moment. Suddenly, I realized my group had already left for the airport. I worked my way through the labyrinthine halls of the hotel and out onto an unfamiliar, foreign street. All the while, I was thinking how I was going to have to find my own way to the airport and possibly change my flight info and that these were tasks Merri is much better at. Optimistically, I considered one person might move faster than a group, which surely had allowed more than enough time to get to the airport.

Traffic seemed to stop at an intersection. A man was in the equivalent of a wheelchair combined with a motorcycle. He veered abruptly across the intersection at 90 degrees, though this surprised no one but me. Traffic stopped and started in incomprehensible ways, following signals lost to me. I realized I didn’t have any clues as to which direction to move in. Where was north? Which direction did I want? I overheard someone say, “‘kuchen,’ that sounds interesting.” I was in a German-speaking city. I walked in an arbitrary direction. The streets got narrower and more Old Worldly. I was descending a narrow, steep flight of steps — nearly a ladder — surrounded by people. The guy in front of me stopped at the bottom of the stairs and said, “I understand you’re trying to get to the airport.” Now, with a group of American students (how did I know?), I said, “I know how to ask, ‘Wo findet man den Bahnhof?’ but I don’t know how to say ‘airport.’ (In the dream, I congratulated myself silently on that construction. Bahnhof is train station. My waking mind recalls ‘Flughof’ as airport. I spent a lot of time in German train stations. I was never in a German airport.) Turning to a woman, I added jokingly, “It’s not aeropuerto.” She considered that for a moment before agreeing. I awoke to a thunderclap as the dog appeared beside my bed.

peace,
mjh

Revenge or Justice?

A man is walking through his elegant backyard, which has layers of shrubs and huge stone blocks. He has just finished some chores and is on a paved path. As he nears the end of the path, there is a drop-off. He over-cautiously leans out barely over the edge to see a monorail track. I feel the same dread I would if I were leaning out over an unknown height. I wonder if a train will flash by. He turns back towards the house and his wife, who is in the kitchen. The man casually glances in the direction of the track and sees a large man with long hair under his hat and draping his heavy coat — we don’t see that man’s face. A few steps later, the first man glances again and the other man has moved just as many steps closer. I think, “these are great camera movements.” The subtly sinister music plays on. The man walks around his Jaguar towards the basement door. A different man appears at the door. The first man rushes into the basement and pulls the two sides of the French doors together with all his strength, trying to latch it. Through the gap in the door, we see the other man moving a knife to pry the latch, his angry eyes above the knife. He yanks open the doors as the first man walks backwards through the gloomy room. The angry man closes in on the first man, talking about revenge. The police burst into the room and the lights brighten. The angry man say, “this man drove into my friends and me and left us to die!” Now, we can see the blood, even a bone sticking out of the angry man’s leg.

I think, “the wife can say she never heard the car start.” The dog shakes his head, my furry alarm clock. mjh

The Lanoliers

A group of men and women is gathered in and around the open bed of a truck. They are not military but of that type. I think of them as “adventurers.” A woman comforts someone hunched over in the truck. Someone approaches with an armful of weapons. These appear to be short swords of an Asian style. The hilts and scabbards are glossy black enamel with hints of embossing or inlay. I think they might be slippery in a bloody battle and wonder if that is the reason for the slight twist in each handle. One of the men takes a sword and unsheathes it to reveal two parallel blades a couple of inches apart. Others are of a similar style until he unsheathes the last one. This one has one blade like all the others but the left blade ends in a gathering of spikes, like the stainless-steel offspring of a pangolin and a porcupine. “What the hell is the point of that?,” he wonders aloud. Another man jumps from the truck and brandishes the weapon, saying, “I’ll tell you the point. When you see a big, hairy arm swinging that at your head, your first thought is to run like hell.”

I awake thinking the words, “The Lanoliers.” I don’t know if that is the name of the weapons, their wielders or this group of adventurers. The collective unconscious of the Web answers with this:

“Members of the Lanoliers must undergo training in both army and naval tactics and given with the [ Kingdom of Ewecadmia's] recent emergence from isolation, they will be trained in air force specialties….

“Lanolier members who have taken extra classes in Kingdom and World protocol and etiquette, and volunteer may become part of the Royal Rams, that is the King’s Royal Guard. The Rams are responsible for patrolling the grounds of the Royal castle and escorting members of the Royal Family when traveling at home or abroad.” — http://courtbard.tripod.com/id46.html

I have no recollection of ever encountering this info before. However, the longer I think about this, I start to ‘recall’ (imagine?) I’ve read a poem by Robert Burns called The Lanoliers. I wonder if they use short swords. mjh

PS: I have a recollection of “pangolin” in the context of dinosaurs. I see something rather turtle-like with a spiked tail ala stegosaurus. Here, the Web lets me down (or sets me straight, perhaps) by only showing modern pangolins (pangolina?). Two words (pangolin and lanolier) come out of my head, one with rich context and one with none (except for the dream). One verified, one not.

over my head

I was crawling around in some bright space that prevented me from standing up. A radio was playing a motivational speaker who had been breathlessly talking about facing our fears. Someone mentioned the short lives of moths and I thought “we don’t know the fate of every moth — there must be some that live longer than others and they would pass that longevity on to their descendants.” I crawled forward and found myself stuck like in a rose bush. I crawled backwards and tore myself free from this minor trap. Now I realized that I was in an area deep with dried leaves almost over my head. “Well,” I thought, “at least I came prepared,” thinking of my long sleeves and pants. As I struggled, the leaves around me settled and in front of me the upper part of a reclining body was revealed: it was the skull and upper torso of a mummified or dessicated person only shiny brown like leather or jerky. I knew I was in trouble and woke up. mjh

This morning’s dreams

We’re standing in a line to get on a bus. When Merri speaks, I know she is

speaking about Britany Spears; she says, “I wonder where Miss Bitch goes for the week and a half.” Continue reading Dreams mjh

Previously on Dreams

My older dream journal is here: http://mjhinton.com/dreams/