Dreams – 9/5

9/5/24: I was homeless AND a student at Iowa State, but ISU wasn’t in Ames, it was in Keokuk. I couldn’t find campus, so I went looking for Chris Libby [who I haven’t seen since 1989] because I knew he was renting the front portion of my grandparents’ front room and that I could get a shower there because my pants/underwear were brown with mud (I hope it was mud).

9/5/23: I’m crouched beside a sandstone building behind guys in cover behind sandbags. It’s in a city that I think is Hue, 1968, but somehow I know this is Saipan, 1944. There is firing coming at us from the jungle just ahead/around the corner. Two of our guys are firing at the unseen enemy. They have rifles. Then the tall white guy who gets called “Sergeant” changes to a short, stocky bazooka-thing and fires it. Someone says “Great shot, Sarge.” The other guy is in WW1-style Marine uniform (with red stripes, etc) and he changes to a BAR, rests it on the sandbags, and puts it on full automatic. He is a black man who is actually a sergeant but he gets called “Colonel.” I’m confused until I see the guy who gets called Sergeant has gold leaves and is a major and turns out to be John Wayne. Photographers surround him and Major Wayne starts striking poses for them.

9/5/22: I was walking on the street when a bird picked me up. It was going to drop me and I couldn’t hold onto the top of the Federal Reserve, so I grabbed on to the bird’s ankle’s as it tried to shake me off. The bird had a gray beak like a toucan’s. The torso was white and the wings were blue–and the bird was shaped/flat like the German eagle or the one on the back of a quarter. The toucan tried to peck at me but its neck was short, so it couldn’t hurt me and eventually it flew low, so I could drop to the ground safely.

9/5/21: I was laying on a floor studying baseball player names written in pencil and cursive. I was with a bunch of MLB GMs–one of which was Phil Cowan. Phil decided to make a trade at the GM meetings. He traded away his first-round pick and in return got four second-round picks and Steve Clevenger. The GMs thought Clevenger was a big deal, but I knew he sucked. Phil told me he intended to draft Dave Kingman with the first of those picks.

9/5/20 #1: My mom moved her bed into a dining room with a dark brown, hardwood floor. My stepfather came in and I told him he’d got his hair cut–it was slicked back and looked like a movie mafia sort of hair cut. He walked out of the room and told me I better get mine cut or else.

9/5/20 #2: My mom, dad, and I were invited to dinner at a fancy mansion. At the door, the butler answered and I noted he was from Texas. As he went to inform the house owner, who was Japanese, my dad yelled at him, “Don’t forget to tell him we sank his battleships.” After dinner, we left in our pickup truck and my mom noticed we were being chased by two women wearing black. The one on the left was pregnant. They were both 28 Days Later type zombies. My mom told my dad and he used a button to lower the back gate, then slammed on the brakes. The women ran into the gate and were sliced in half. “Solved,” he said, then kept on driving.

9/5/20 #3: I was batting in a baseball game and noticed a hill behind the pitcher which was weird. He threw a fast ball that I sliced towards the third base dugout–except it was a big open yard. I started yelling “Get down, get down!” at the ball before the third baseman could catch it. It dropped, then I realized I was standing on my grandparents back porch step in Keokuk, the ball hit in “Aunt Gladys”‘ backyard, and the hill which I’d figured was the CF wall was the hill separating my grandparents’ backyard from the next-door lumber yard.