dreams Archives - Page 2 of 2 - Ramblin' with Roger

Family health report, March 2017

Oh, my spouse made orange JELL-O with chunks of pineapple!

Anyone get the license plate of the truck than ran me over? Not literally, but…

Let’s back up.

Friday, March 10 – The Daughter was having some muscle pain, and I stayed with her, figuring she was dehydrated or something. But then she developed a fever, and felt lousy, as we tended to her with cold compresses and OTC medicine.

Saturday, March 11 – She seems better. Her fever is gone. She was helping the cleaning for my annual hearts party, which was a lovely event. But beware the two of diamonds! I theorized that she willed herself to be well, because she knew it was important to me.

Sunday, March 12- She’s feeling worse again, and her fever returned. The Wife stayed home with her, while I went to church.

Monday, March 13 – the Wife took the Daughter to the MD, who diagnosed her with strep throat AND either a cold or the flu.

Tuesday, March 14- you may have read how the snow forecast was overblown in the big cities such as Philadelphia and NYC. Well, it wasn’t overblown in much of upstate NY. My hometown of Binghamton got over 30 inches, about 3/4 of a meter, and Albany got a total of 20.5 inches, over half a meter. It was the first time in 36 years, I’m told, that the state closed down, allowing “non-essential” personnel to stay home without having to use a vacation day.

I shoveled the first six inches, no problem. But attacking the next nine was much harder than it should have been. It WAS windy and a near blizzard, but still, I should have been able to handle it. I was grateful for The Wife’s assistance to finish the job. I went to bed early, around 8:30 p.m.

Wednesday, March 15 – I was going to drag myself to work, which, in retrospect, would have been a mistake. But since the Daughter was still recovering, I tended to her. By the afternoon, though, I asked The Wife to take me to the urgent care place. After about three hours there, which included various tests and a chest x-ray, it was determined that I had BOTH pneumonia AND influenza, despite having gotten a flu shot back in November. My wife decided to sleep in the spare room, which I thought was wise.

Thursday, March 16 – Did not sleep well. I was so congested I thought I was suffocating. My attention for anything – the computer, TV – is about 15 minutes. I can’t read a book or anything that requires focus. Oh, my spouse made orange JELL-O with chunks of pineapple! You’d be amazed how for that 10 minutes, how almost happy I was. Being sick will do that.

Friday, March 17 – Tried to write a blog post, but I kept writing the wrong word – “committed” when I mean “commented,”, e.g. I DO know the difference MOST of the time. And it’s exhausting to sit up. We have seven movies (DVDs) we got in anticipation of the snowstorm, but can’t focus enough to watch any of them, but for one we all saw back on Tuesday.

Saturday, March 18 – Lots of strange dreams about aliens, Burger King, the Berman family (my great-aunt Charlotte’s people). The one thing I remember in a dream was that the dreams you have do represent a memory of your life, but it may be an event that has not yet taken place. I think the dreams are a direct result of being dehydrated, probably from some medicine finally kicking in.

This feels like drunk blogging. I’ve started about six posts this week, and, including this one, the number completed so far: one.

Tuesday, I see my primary care physician. Until then, I’m not operating any heavy machinery.

Dream: can’t get there from here

About five minutes later, I realize we forgot the tickets, so we attempt to go back. But we can’t.

One of the things I’ve noticed about the dreams I remember recently is that I wake up in the middle of the night, go back to sleep, and a short time later, wake up again. I would have sworn I hadn’t slept at all, except that the dreams are so vivid.

This one from several weeks ago, I didn’t write down until three weeks later, and I still remember:

I am walking, with my daughter, from a house on a hill down to performance down into town. It should take about 15 minutes to get there, and we’re leaving an hour beforehand, so we should have plenty of time.

About five minutes later, I realize we forgot the tickets, so we attempt to go back. But we can’t. The streets are clogged with fire trucks and other emergency vehicles, and the streets are flooded, though it has not been raining. And I can’t keep going to the theater, perhaps buying new tickets, for the same reason. Every street is suddenly inaccessible, even the one we just came down to.

So we walk through alleyways, climbing in and out of non-residential buildings – ending up in the back of stores, sometimes having to jump from one incomplete stairway to another, and terribly worried that someone is going to shoot us. Then we end up having to climb up the sides of the building, through windows we have to open and climb through.

At some point, we come through the back of a store that was a bakery. It has an old-fashioned tile floor and has barrels of flour and other things to make food, but nothing prepared. And we finally see a large window and a door to the outside, and we look out and I have no idea where the heck I am.

[I wake up.]

Dreaming about my dad and my daughter

It’s now 13 years since my dad died.

les green.garden — \”Got big-time swagger,\” sister Marcia proclaimed.

About five months ago, I dreamed that my father had ordered a bunch of nondescript raw materials in long, brown cardboard boxes. He was convinced that would resell them and make himself rich.

At some point, he decided that we (he, my daughter, and I) had to drive into Canada. “Dad,” I said, “I don’t have my passport. Or Lydia’s.” He did not have his either if he had one at all. He starts schmoozing with the border guard, while I’m filing through my wallet hoping that maybe I had SOME paperwork that would be satisfactory. The odd thing is that he described his granddaughter as his daughter.

Of course, as I’ve noted, my father and my daughter never met on this plane, though my daughter once told me that she DID meet my father, while she was up in heaven waiting to be born.

That said, much of the dream was basically true. He could drive a tractor-trailer, he always had get-rich schemes but was often lazy with the details, and he could often charm people.

It’s now 13 years since my dad died, and he’s still in my dreams.
***
Coincidentally, back in October 2011, Melanie wrote about HER dad dying 13 years before. “Many people feel that’s long enough to be sad about it… It’s like we’re supposed to have some on/off switch on our biological clocks that automatically turns the hurt and the caring off after an acceptable number of hours, minutes, and seconds have passed. It’s not like that.”

Dream: In hot pursuit

Using the state trooper car as a shield, the protagonist driver pulls the car into reverse, does a 180, and drives back down the road against traffic.

This is an actual dream of mine from a few months back:

Two guys are driving around when they spot something interesting in some bushes by the road. It turns out to be a couple of cameras on the side of the road, expensive equipment. They see a name on one and decide to take them to the local police station, which is in an area of open spaces, not an urban setting. But as they approach the station from the rear, they see a cop shoot a guy who has his hands in the air. They then realize they are seen as well, and drive off in their car, being pursued by the local police.

The passenger pulls out his phone to dial 9-1-1 when the driver yells, “Where do you think the call will go to? The local cops!” Not knowing whether the whole force is on whatever nefarious activity is underway, they go to the nearby highway and begin speeding. They are pulled over by a state police trooper, which was their desire if they couldn’t get to the state police barracks. The driver tells the trooper the tale of the local cops and is about to give him the cameras when the state trooper is shot by someone, which turns out to be by the local cops, who come out of their car, guns were drawn.

Using the state trooper car as a shield, the protagonist driver pulls the car into reverse, does a 180, and drives back down the road against traffic, until they can get off the main road. They figure that, in the short term, the state police will believe THEY are the shooters, rather than the local cops. They take some back roads and try to wend their way to the neighboring state border. They’re now convinced that the cameras and the shootings are somehow related.

Then I wake up about 1:45 a.m., with my heart beating very fast. Don’t you hate it when that happens? Feel free to psychoanalyze.

How Do You Sleep QUESTIONS

I might sleep for four hours, then stay in bed, feeling that I had not slept at all the latter part of the time. But I know I have.

Looking at all the Beatles and John Lennon songs, I’m reminded of the fact that Lennon mentioned the topic of sleep a few times. I’m Only Sleeping was on the Beatles’ Revolver album, though I first heard it on the US LP called Yesterday and Today. It starts off:
When I wake up early in the morning,
Lift my head, I’m still yawning
When I’m in the middle of a dream
Stay in bed, float upstream

Then, for the Beatles white album, Lennon writes:
I’m so tired, I haven’t slept a wink
I’m so tired, my mind is on the blink

The tone of the vicious Lennon attack on Paul McCartney, How Do You Sleep is contrasted with #9 Dream in my mind.
So long ago
Was it in a dream, was it just a dream?
I had known, yes I know
Seemed so very real, it seemed so real to me

1. How do YOU sleep at night?
2. Do you remember your dreams?

On those nights I sleep for six or seven hours straight, I tend not to remember my dreams. But on the nights I have a lot on my mind, I might sleep for four hours, then stay in bed, feeling that I had not slept at all the latter part of the time. But I know I have because the dreams are so vivid, it’s as though they were real.