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Interesting Dreams (Interesting to me, Anyway)

29 Jul

I vaguely remember dreaming something based on Inez Milholland.

 

I dreamed that I lived with several cats and at least one woman in a house that had a row of glass windows facing an attached garage. The door to the garage was just to the right of those windows. I thought I saw a white and gray cat inside the garage, just in the other side of the windows.

I went into the garage. At first the cat tried to get in, but I didn’t want it to because I figured it should be separate from my cats. I closed myself in the garage.

Either the cat disappeared or I just wasn’t paying attention to it or it transformed into another creature. In any case, the garage was a bit dark, and I saw in a corner what at first I thought was a fluffy creature. I touched it briefly, and it was soft and fluttered as though frightened.

I figured out that it was a bird… next I figured out that it was a falcon. The other woman joined me and said that it was a wounded peregrine falcon. She knew how to take care of wounded birds.

Coronavirus Dream

7 May

I had a coronavirus dream set in Regency England.

A ball was taking place inside an enormous ballroom with an extremely high ceiling and white and gold paneling. Quite a number of people were there but had plenty of space—they were probably the first arrivals. At least 20 people. They wore elegant and very Regency (circa 1814) garb.

A zombie-like man entered the room and said he had coronavirus. Everyone yelled and screamed and ran away, going out of the ballroom.

Bad Roommate Dream

27 Apr

My lower back is a bit achy, which might explain why I dreamed that I was a witch who put a curse on an enemy, giving them an achy back.

I had a dream in which I had two roommates. One of them was this rather conventional blond woman. She and I were in the laundry room, I think, and she owned the house we lived in. She was bustling around and having a monologue…. during which she said, “You’re a lazy roommate, but at least you can afford to pay the rent.” I froze in shock. She kept talking. She also continued bustling about and soon left the room.

At some point, I had processed enough to be walking around the house and grumbling. “If I’m so lazy, how do you explain the fact that I’m writing the first draft of a 90,000-word novel in only one month?! Oh, yeah, that’s really lazy!”

Next I was out and about in an urban area on a gray day. I parked in an alley, I think. I needed time to process, and now I was furious at the judgmental roommate and knew I’d be moving out as soon as possible.

I found myself at what may have been a yoga studio—an event was going to start soon, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t staying for it. I was walking in the opposite direction from everyone else in an alley leading into the yoga studio. Someone skinny paused in walking to do a yoga pose right there on the spot in the middle of the alley. I wondered if I could still do that yoga pose and knew better than to try it in front of others. The accusation of laziness was fresh in my mind.

At some point, I was one of three women who were wandering in an alley kind of lost. I wasn’t sure where my car was and was trying to remember where I parked. I ended up, still in an alley, where there was a concrete-looking building with a lot of clutter, junk, and people standing in line. One of them was a woman I had been walking with in the alley. Even though she was in line and I was in the alley and intended to continue searching for my car, I was still talking with her and vented about my asshole roommate. I may have said something about how I was going to start packing up and searching for an apartment today.

I woke up in a foul mood and remembered an occasion when a bunch of toxic relatives had, as usual, broken into my house and sat around my living room and accused me of being lazy. I was shocked and speechless in reaction. This was a time when I was working a minimum of 40 hours a week at a thankless job… and when I wasn’t at that job, I was writing, sculpting, or meditating. How does that fit the description of “lazy”? I was writing, among other things, a 500-page novel about those same relatives who thought themselves entitled to break into my house and take their personality disorders out on me.

Bereavement Dream

23 Apr

I dreamed it was the anniversary of my dad’s birthday…. but that’s in February.

I was at a bakery, and there was an outgoing and flaming young guy there, and my dad came up in conversation with him. He said he’d make a cupcake for not only me but also my dad. And he said, “Call him.”

By this point in the conversation, he was behind the counter and getting out cupcakes, and I was seated at a round table in the middle of the room—it was the only table, even though there was space for many more tables. The floor was shiny silver concrete. When he said to call my dad—and I was feeling melancholy—I looked at him with confusion. He said it again. I stared at him.

He brought a pink cupcake over, and I suddenly realized what he meant and I got out my smartphone. I said, “I still have his phone number.” Then I burst into tears.

I looked at the phone and said, “There’s a pass code. I don’t remember it.” Apparently I thought there was a passcode for leaving a message on his phone—but that makes sense. It would make sense if his phone had a pass code, but that didn’t occur to me until after I woke.

Well, that was gut-wrenching.

A Bizarre Dream involving Death

17 Apr

I had such a bizarre dream.

I borrowed a large vehicle from a friend—but the vehicle belonged to her bourgeois parents (we were young, in our 20s I think). I was driving after dark and had another friend the passenger seat—a very sickly elderly man.

While we were driving in traffic after dark, something happened—I think I had to stop abruptly—may have damaged the car—the old man slid to the floor of the front passenger seat and was crumpled and looked kind of like a deflated beach ball. He wore khaki pants and a bright green shirt.

I knew he must be dead. I knew I had to do something. I remembered a plastic bag in the back of the car and figured I would put him in that for now.

Next thing I remember: I had the same vehicle at an auto shop. It was parked and waiting, and I was out of the car when a couple of young female friends got in and sat—in the front seat.

The “driver” chatted with me cheerfully (I was standing next to the driver’s side door). Next to her, our friend was young, probably teen, and petite and blond. I wondered that she wasn’t aware of the corpse at her feet—at least, I was pretty sure he was still there.

I may have spoken to someone who worked on the car. I felt vaguely aware that my friend’s parents would be furious about their car.

Next the car was full of friends of mine, at least five, including 2 Indian women trying to make room in the back seat, even though there were all these plastic bags on the floor of at least the right side of the back seat. With that car door open, I opened a couple bags and discovered that I had sparkly Indian fabric, probably enough to make a couple saris.

Meanwhile, I was aware that somehow the corpse was behind that back seat, in a third section of the car—a second back seat. This brought some confusion in my mind, because I remembered him dying in the front passenger seat and I tried to think through how he could have moved.

 

Not sure if this was the same dream, but I was at a big craft store—a shop like Michael’s or Hobby Lobby (even though I’ve avoided the latter since finding out that the CEO is a homophobic fundamentalist Xian). Anyway, we were chatting in an aisle where I noticed rolled up remnants that included sparkly Indian fabric.

I briefly spotted something yellow and gold that looked beautiful, so I rummaged through and instead of finding what I thought I’d seen, I pulled out a remnant for a less pretty piece of sparkly yellow and gold Indian fabric. In any case, I was thinking about doll clothing while looking through those remnants.

On a lower shelf, I spotted something that seemed to match some of the fabric… and turned out to be bits of Asian newspaper wrapped around and separating little red plates that looked Chinese somehow (probably the color) and each featured an image of a cat.

During all this, I was chatting with Shelly, and at the end of the dream I was telling her that I should have dropped out of Portland Metro Veggies years before I did–like a month after my dad died.

And I woke up—groggy but imagining that I was adding that PMV was wonderful back in the early days, when James was very active as an organizer, and it sucked after that asshole Mathew took over.

 

I dreamed that I was staying at a hotel or someplace and had my own room but was with about four friends… though one of the people was a young woman we didn’t trust and didn’t know so well. I’m not sure why we didn’t trust her—maybe she was out prisoner, or maybe she had a personality disorder.

At some point, I was alone in my hotel room—a comfortable room. The bed was messy and I just woke from a nap.

It was raining steadily and somewhat loudly, and I was tempted to open a window and drifted toward a window at the far end of the room… but I figured the rain would get inside.

On a small table centered against that far wall, I had a little paper bag containing some leftovers from a run someone did out there in the world, one of the friends I was with. I looked inside and was happy to notice a couple of beverages in the bottom, one containing caffeine (it looked like the last kind of bottle Bhakta Chai came in before it disappeared). I looked forward to drinking that immediately. But there were a few other little things, like packets of condiments and a couple of individually wrapped forks (it looked suspiciously like this came from a fast food joint).

Edgy Dream

16 Apr

I kept having dreams reminiscent of Steven Universe.

 

Later I dreamed I was attending some sort of convention in what looked like it could be a mansion or house. There was a somewhat large, square room—maybe a half-timbered look—with a bunch of doors. Around the edges of the room were booths with vendors selling art, I think mostly Steampunk style. But while I was wandering around this room and feeling socially awkward, most people went through a door, talking and laughing and knowing what they were doing and where they were going.

I didn’t know where they were going… or I figured they were going on a lunch break, nearly everyone at the same time. I wasn’t invited and didn’t know anyone.

I resumed shopping, even though only one or two little booths (one folding table each). I hovered over a booth that didn’t have much, maybe some small, handmade books. I felt like someone at another booth was watching me suspiciously and assumed I was a thief and was going to steal something from that booth. I moved on to another.

I ended up with someone’s catalog, folded back to a particular page. I was trying to be cheerful and enthusiastic but instead felt judged, rejected, and out of place. While walking slowly around the room with this catalog, I realized it must look like I was stealing the catalog. I felt nervous.

Dreams about Houses and Stairs

13 Apr

I had two dreams in which I had trouble climbing up staircases.

In one, I was at a university and came to this one staircase in the “Tibetan wing” of a vast building that was all white inside. I figured this staircase would lead to the same floor as my dorm room (to wherever I wished to go). But I kept going and going—it was odd, with two burgundy steps followed by several feet of white flooring—so a landing every two steps—and when I was really high up and had been climbing for some time, I felt dizzy and precarious and anxious. There was no bannister or handrail, I finally realized, and I saw I was almost at a floor that had classrooms with glass walls. I doubted it would lead to the comfort of my dorm room, after all. I considered heading back down but didn’t wish to go down those stairs. I think I was about to sit down on a step when I woke up.

 

(I’m sure I had that dream because last night I was reading an ebook about improving self-esteem and I know I need to seriously work in that and become my own best friend. I think that if I have good, healthy self-esteem, I won’t care about the opinions of toxic assholes and therefore won’t be so devastated by them. Also, it will be easier to brush it off and know for certain that the sick and twisted version of me they invented is bullshit.)

 

I had a dream in which I had a large and quirky house and had gotten some renovations done recently. There was a section on the left side of the house (left if you’re in the front yard and facing the front). Until recently, there’d been a little side room in which I had to take a metal flight of stairs for a few steps, not more than 6 steps, before walking some distance and getting to another staircase. Early in the dream, I was taking that staircase and found it annoying.)

Well, thanks to the renovation, I now had a long and high-ceilinged and white-walled room, like a wide corridor, that led to a plain white staircase.

At the end of the dream, I was showing the room to a male contractor and talking about these changes with some pride.

Bad Dreams

12 Apr

I dreamed that I went into the restroom at I think a rest stop, and there were three women in their 60s in there chatting and putting on makeup at this row of little booths.

One of them insisted that I should put on makeup–I think she was making fun of me for not being into such things and for being “square.” Hmmm, how Asshole Audrey of her. And I think they were laughing at me.

Weirdly, instead of just ignoring them and leaving, or rolling my eyes at them and leaving–as I would have in real life–I wanted to prove them wrong about me. As if it mattered what they thought of me! So weird.

I went up to one of the little… cubbies… and put powder on the left side of my face–the side they couldn’t see–and at this point they were ignoring me. There were little brown plastic cups into which makeup brushes were sticking up, and I grabbed one and dipped it into powder. I didn’t know how to put that crap on and was alarmed at the results of the makeup—it was a mess of powder on my face. I hastily started smearing it around and even though I figured you’re not supposed to use your hands, there was so much of it that I ended up using my hands to spread it out all over my face. I was uncomfortable with the entire process, embarrassed, and aware that this wasn’t me.

 

I vaguely recall a dream that combined the Doctor Who novel I’m reading with the coronavirus pandemic. Ace was trapped in a strange place and aware of the need for social distancing.

An Unpleasant Dream

11 Apr

I woke up from an unpleasant dream at about 4 am.

In the dream—I don’t think it started out badly—I was one of a small number of people (friends, I think) who went over to stay at an old house. I mainly remember the image of the front: nighttime, very dark, 19th century house in which the top level was only half as big as the ground level (like Elizabeth Cady Stanton’s house in Seneca Falls), and there were very few lights in and around the house.

One of the characters in the house was at least based on the adult Ace (from a Doctor Who novel I’m reading).

At the very end of the dream, there were two men talking and at least one of them made a sexist generalization about women–and then I woke up.

I thought a trespasser was in the room, standing at the foot of the bed—I heard a noise—

and I froze, panicking. I lay still for quite some time… until I finally was sure that at least two cats were awake and making what little noise I heard.

Quite a Dream….

10 Apr

I dreamed that I was one of three jailers locked in a white cell with a prisoner. We jailers were all female, and the prisoner was a sneering, taunting asshole of a white male (slender, short-haired, blond, ordinary looking, in his thirties or forties) who I’m sure represented patriarchy.

I was determined to kill him. He seemed to think this was hilarious and that I was too incompetent to do it. I don’t remember if he said taunting things, but he kept grinning and laughing at me, thus fueling my rage against him. The other two women mostly kept their distance and weren’t committed to killing him like I was.

At least toward the end, the three of us each held an oversized basketball. We were holding them in front of us, ready to attack the asshole with them. I bounced mine against him and noticed that it was somewhat deflated and, disappointed, said as much. He seemed to think that more reason to gloat, so I charged at him, hitting him with the ball. At first the other two kept their distance but I yelled something at them, something about not betraying me, and they half-heartedly joined me.

Eventually, I was sitting on top of him while he lay on the floor–still grinning and gloating–and I put a white plastic bag over his head and suffocated him, pressing the ball on his face while simultaneously squeezing the plastic bag around his neck.

He suffocated to death–and the dream ended.

So… basically, I had a dream in which a white male character represented patriarchy, and I killed patriarchy.