Dreams – 6/4

6/4/25: I was in an apartment in a small bedroom. When I turned around, I couldn’t get to myself because a futon mattress blocked my path. I moved it away then saw Brian Olsen in the door (college friend/grad school roommate). He was throwing stuff into the room like he was part of a bucket-brigade. He said “I’m your new roommate. I don’t fuck around moving in.” Then I was gone–not sure where, but I was drinking a Slushie.

6/4/24: I walked into an empty house that my mind said was my grandparents’ on West Hayes (but it wasn’t). I sat down on a couch facing the front door and upstairs when I heard noise upstairs and someone yell ‘BANZAI!’ I ran for the garage so I wouldn’t be seen–door was under the stairs. I ran around the car out there (only space for the one car) and waited and said to myself “Just like Guadalcanal” but nothing happened. I went back in the house and no one was there for real, so I sat on the couch.

6/4/23: I was in a classroom for some sort of meeting talking about students need it easier on them. I was speaking with a skinny woman with white hair [likely due to watching a Picard, Season 3 episode before bed]. We walked into her office which smelled like an old library and I saw stacks of books–including the math (!) book I was using to teach history. I complained about students thinking a short paper was took much work to include in a college class and she agreed. She said if they’d paid attention, they could write a 5-page paper the night before. I agreed and realized she was using the exact words I’d used at some point previously.

6/4/22 #1: I was driving my Challenger in a confined space with only an alleyway available to leave. No matter what I did, I would overcorrect with the wheel, brake, or gas and I’d miss hitting walls or other cars by millimeters. Then the car lurched forward without me touching anything and wrecked. The hood was split down the middle, the headlight wiring was hanging below the front bumper, and the passenger door was crushed in. I started crying, wishing it was a dream.

6/4/22 #2: I was walking with friends from the Middle East to a Boston Red Sox game. We stopped underneath the Bettendorf I-74 bridge for lunch and I realized the bridge had expanded because there were at least 20 support arches that I could see. I thought about changing clothes and suddenly I was in my house which was a one-room place with lots of windows. It was cold because there was no heat to the building and only my sleeping bag was warm. I wanted to change into warm clothes but I was worried people would stare at me–because the house was in the middle of a roundabout. I climbed into the sleeping bag because I knew I would warm up but also because the pillow would stay cool.

6/4/21 #1: I’m a Shaolin monk but in Greece. I’m assigned to a reclusive cabin where there’s already another monk with a goatee who looks like one of my teachers from junior high. He gives me this big tour of the one-room cabin. We go outside and sit on the porch swing and he explains we have to be on the lookout for grizzlies. At that point, one appears and we go inside the cabin for safety. The grizzly comes to the door. It turns out the door also has a small thin flap that has to close–kinda like it is double doors. Then we put a bent bar through a latch to keep the bear out. Now that it can’t come in, the bear sits on the swing and starts crying.

6/4/21 #2: I’m in a house doubling as a saloon–it’s like an Old West version of my mom’s basement. There’s a gang coming that doesn’t like my friends. Everyone shows they are unarmed and then everyone starts walking all around the house. I go sit outside and watch as everyone starts to pick up guns from hiding spots and I wonder if I’m safe just sitting outside. Julie comes out and apologizes because she didn’t know there were peas growing on the marijuana she served for dinner ‘on Thursday last week’ and the peas probably explain the behavior of everyone. She goes back into the kitchen with a spatula and mixing bowl and her forearms are like Popeye’s. I realize that the porch I’m on is like the steps outside the auxiliary entrance where I went to school and there’s someone else sitting there–looks like Paul Ferguson but isn’t…has a stalk of wheat hanging from his mouth and a straw hat–and he says “Out here avoiding that brouhaha, too, I reckon.”