Strange Airplane Dreams

As the Little Fluffy Cat knows, my plate is overflowing right now, but I thought I would post a couple disturbing dreams I’ve had just in the last couple of days. Hopefully, these aren’t psychic in nature and are just the result of the madness going on around me (and in me). So in the interest of getting a second opinion, I’ll let you be the judge.

Dream 1: My husband and I are on a big airplane, probably a 757. I have the middle seat, and he has the aisle. This is because Mr. Demonic is incredibly tall and I am a midget and can fit anywhere, including the backseat of an AMC Hornet and inside my high school locker. We are leaving our Tundra town. If you knew where I lived and were familiar with the airport, you would know that planes have to taxi practically to the next state to take off. Anyway, we are driving along, Mr. D furiously scribbling notes on a pad, and me paying attention to the flight attendant. (This is because as a one-time flight attendant wannabe, I know that their jobs are vital to the safety of passengers. I want to know where my closest exit is.)

At last, it is our turn to depart. The plane takes off slowly. It doesn’t feel right. Sure, it’s a big plane, and it’s practically magic how something so huge can get off the ground to begin with. We are hovering what seems to be only fifty feet from the tarmac. All of a sudden the plane shoots straight up with a tremendous burst of speed. When I mean straight up, I mean perpendicular to the ground. Mr. D and I are facing the heaven, our backs glued to the seats. I grab him and say “This is the end” or something stupid like that.

My next sensation is that the plane does a somersault. I’m pretty sure we are toast.

Then I wake up in a sweat.

Dream #2: The entire Demonic family is taking a trip by plane. It’s a 747, you know, the one with upstairs and downstairs. We’re going to London, don’t ask me why. I have never been and have no desire to go there. It’s not our usual carrier of choice, but an upstart.

Mr. D has secured for us the back of the plane. If you are familiar with train travel, you know that to travel comfortably across country, the best route is to get a sleeping car. We’ve done this on many occasions, especially when my daughter was a baby, my son was a little boy and he was in love with trains. We’ve had the family suite, and it’s great with little kids. Anyway, in the dream, this air carrier had what looked to be a sleeping area. For $150 per person extra, we had our own enclosed space with pull down beds. The airline said we could stay in the sleeping area for our entire stay in London. There were two of these areas, and another family occupied the other one.

When we took off, we were unencumbered by seat belts, and while it was scary, we survived. We laughed, we drank champagne, we ate chocolate. When we arrived in London, everyone else departed, and it was  just us and this other family. The flight attendants tried to get us to deplane as well. They were surly and rude in fact, and were shooing us off. Both Mr. D and the father of the other family were up in arms. They protested with shouts of “but we paid $150 each to stay here!”  We had no other lodging in London and for some reason couldn’t get anything else. The head flight attendant said that the extra charge was just for the trip across the pond. If we didn’t get off, we would be going to Egypt with the rest of the flight. (!)

I woke up again in a sweat.

I don’t think I’m going to sleep anymore.

A Disturbing Dream

Last night, I had a rather disturbing dream.

I dreamt I was pregnant.

Not just a little pregnant, I was about six months along and as big as a house. The weird thing about the dream is that I had been hiding my pregnancy from Mr. Demonic. He had just started to notice me getting a bit pudgy around the middle.

It was such a disturbing dream that I immediately woke up in a cold sweat.

**A late disclaimer: Mr. D had his plumbing snipped about ten years ago, and I’m (*YEAH! YEAH!*) just a pinky length beyond menopause. This woman is not birthin’ any babies.

An Entirely Strange Dream

Last night was the first time in seventy-two hours that I finally got a decent night’s sleep. I’ve had other things on my mind, including payroll, cabling my house and getting the phone back (a long sad story that ends with the sentence “And that’s why I HATE AT&T!), a power outage at work resulting in loss of a server (it’s still down), my kids in California calling me for this item or that, and other deadlines too numerous to outline here. After all of that, I was spent and really wanted to sleep. So, I drank a half bottle of wine last night, something I don’t usually do, and downed a Tylenol PM.

I can report that I slept well.

However, I did have one entirely strange dream, which I’m going to write down here before I forget:

The set up: As some of you know, I had an “Internet Boyfriend.” I say “had” because even though we are still friendly, he’s no longer MIB. He had a summer filled with a lot of activity and took a short break from here, which was fine by me. Our interactions have been very sparse, considering that we used to chat almost every day.

The dream: I dreamt that MIB was in bed with me last night. The weird thing was that my husband was also in bed. I was sandwiched right in the middle of the two. In my dream, I was dead tired (much like I was really) and really wanted to go to sleep. MIB was to my left, dressed from head to toe in a long nightgown. It wasn’t a girly nightgown, but a plain white one. My husband, on the other side of me, was dressed in what he normally goes to bed in – a tee-shirt and his underwear. That’s what I was wearing too.

MIB was turned toward me, and talking the entire night. It was quite annoying, so I turned away from him and toward my husband and started drifting off. My husband was perturbed at the internet boyfriend in the bed, so he turned away and started twitching, pounding his pillow, and generally making a huge commotion. I couldn’t fall asleep because of it.

I tried to sleep on my back, but I’m not much of a back sleeper. Besides, I had MIB on one side of me talking about this and that, and my husband on the other side rolling around in bed like a mini-earthquake.

And so I drifted off to sleep, but it was a dissatisfying type of sleep. It was like sleeping on a train or airplane or in the hospital. You think and hope and pray you will get some rest, but because other things are going on around you, part of your brain is somewhat alert just in case it has to wake the rest of you in the event of a crash, turbulence or a nurse coming to poke you in the ass with a needle.

Unbelievably, my real sleep went fairly well. When my alarm went off at 6 a.m., I got up, turned it off and went back to sleep so quickly, I didn’t even realize I had done it.

I hope I dream something more soothing tonight.

Dream Dog

I would like to preface this by saying that I have been looking into getting a dog from a rescue, as soon as my youngest goes off to college in the fall. My brother-in-law helps run a rescue in Los Angeles, and his belief is that you should never have to get a breeder dog because there are too many poor animals in shelters looking for homes. I’ve been taking my time and getting lots of information before I decide if that’s what I’m going to do.

This is a vivid dream which I had last night:

I dreamt that I went to a breeder of Boston Terriers. My sister has always had two Bostons in the house. They’re small and short-haired, are loyal and friendly, a perfect house dog. Except for occasional snoring, they don’t make much noise. If I were to get a dog, this would be the breed.

The breeder was a German man with a rather thick accent. He introduced me to the mother and then the father of the upcoming litters. (Seems weird.) Both dogs were very nice, even tempered, you could tell they liked each other, too. (Why this was a concern, I don’t know!) I asked if I could put a deposit down on one dog from a subsequent litter. I told the man I wanted a little girl, and he agreed, girls are the best.

We went into his home office to make the payment. He told me it had to be $300 in cash. I went to the breeder with $300 cash (very unusual, since I never carry cash), but along the way managed to spend $295 of it (I don’t know how!), so all I had left was a rumpled $5 bill. I took it out of my wallet and proceeded to dig around in my purse, hoping that I really hadn’t spent $295, but knowing that I did.

Finally, I asked if I could write a check. German man looked over his shoulder warily and said he really shouldn’t, his wife would be angry. He relented, and I started scribbling out a check for $295. While writing, I asked him when my puppy was born, could he please name it “Cooper” so she would be used to the name. He agreed, and scribbled the name down on my receipt.

Just then, German man’s wife came over, and nixed me writing the check. “NO, we can’t take deposits unless they are cash!” (She was quite the harpy.) I looked down at the counter and noticed that they also took major credit cards, so I asked if I could charge the deposit, to which both said “yes”. I was highly annoyed because I had written out the check and would then have to void it.

It seemed like only a minute, but I got my little puppy. I brought Cooper to work with me, where one of my office girls went ga-ga over how cute she was.

Then I woke up.

What does this mean?

More Recent Dreams

I again had a dream about my best friend in high school. I dreamt that my daughter was going to his college and was in one of his art classes. This is not possible in the real world. My “friend” (if you can call a person that after not speaking for 25 years) teaches in a college in the middle of Texas. My daughter wouldn’t go there if she was given several million dollars. My daughter is rather artistic in some ways, but not in his medium, so that’s another issue. I hadn’t been thinking of him, but as I’ve said elsewhere, every so often I’ll have a dream about him. In this one, he was giving my daughter a grade (B) and I was in the hallway. He didn’t know we were related. If he ever did meet my daughter, he’d know. That’s because she’s pretty much an exact mirror image of me, only 35 years younger and a bit prettier.

I also had a dream about one of our employees. I dreamt that he had died. I don’t dislike this employee, so it’s not like I want to see him offed. He’s probably approaching 60 or so, and he’s been loyal enough, honest and trustworthy. However, his game has been a bit off, if you know what I mean. He used to be fairly sharp, but now he’s mind-numbingly tedious. My husband can’t stand to speak with him anymore, and will bolt from the office if he knows this person is coming in. That leaves him to bother the rest of us with his stories we’ve already heard.

I kind of feel sorry for that guy. He’s alone, has no wife or girlfriend (who’d take him?) or children. The economy is rough here, and he gets a lot less hours than he used to, so he’s financially strained. I can see why he’s sort of depressed and a downer to speak with.

I wish I had dreamed of California. I wish I’d have dreamed of hot sex with my husband. I hate dreaming of death.

More California Dreamin’… and Other Stuff

Last night, we went to the symphony, which means dinner was at the concert hall. There’s a little place there called the Paradise Cafe. It refers to a previous incarnation of our local concert hall – another story, too long to go into here. The restaurant doesn’t have a kitchen. Food is trucked in from somewhere else (catered by a big-wig catering group in the city) and warmed for diners. This might sound awkward and awful, but really it’s not bad. They bring in a prime rib which is usually delicious, green beans, potatoes, salmon and chicken, and pasta. It’s a regular smorgasbord of delights. It’s also a lot of heavy food I don’t normally eat.

Last night, I had weird dreams. I have to relate that to my meal which was only a few hours before falling asleep.

I dreamed I was in southern California, driving my daughter around.

In two weeks, we will be in southern California, and I’ll be driving my daughter around to the various colleges she’s interested in. Outside of the metropolitan San Diego area, I’ve never been to most parts of southern California, and certainly not to the places we will be visiting, which include LA, Malibu and Santa Barbara.

This is not the first dream I’ve had where I’ve dreamt of where I’m going. I once dreamed of the inside of a friend’s house, and when I finally went inside, it was exactly as I had envisioned in my dream. I’ve seen the rolling hills of Kentucky before I actually rolled through. I’ve been on certain sandy beaches before arriving there.

My point is this: I think sometimes dreams are the movies of your subconscious, but I also think our minds and souls can go to places when our bodies are asleep. (Ooo-iee… Yes, I believe in astral projection.) This can also happen when under anesthesia. I saw myself lying in the recovery room after having a C-section for my son. As crazy as it sounds, I was on the ceiling looking down, and snapped back into my body when my back hit the wall. I vividly remember the conversation the nurses were having before I woke up.

My dream last night was very calming. It was a warm, sunny day, and we had just left a school that wasn’t far from the beach. The roads were twisting around the hills. My daughter wanted to go to the beach, so I parked the rental car. It was a non-descript foreign model that was gray. When coming back from the beach, I couldn’t locate the car. Everyone was driving a small foreign car, and there’s not much difference between a KIA and a Hyundai if you’re used to a Toyota. So we walked up a hill, where the area was getting more residential. I said, “We’ve gone too far.” So we walked back down, and eventually found the car, located near a coffee shop. I should have made that mental reference before I exited the car. All was well, so I woke up.

Hmm… I wonder what this means?

Going Back to High School in My Dreams

I had the greatest time when I was in high school. It was just at the end of the hippie era and right before disco, or what otherwise would be known as the First Fall of Western Civilization. (Since then, there have been several more falls, in preparation for the Final Fall, which I hear is going to happen in about three years.)

Last night, I made a dinner that I haven’t made since the kids were little. That is, chili dogs with lots of onions and cheese. I can’t remember when I last had a chili dog. I don’t like hot dogs in general, because once back in the olden days, I worked at a “major venue” as a concession girl. After seeing the recycling of hot dogs from one concert to the next, I had to cut hot dogs from my diet. In fact, I eventually had to quit the job, because the piquant odor of hot dogs caused me to vomit on a regular basis. After I had kids, they would clamor for hot dogs at least once a week, so I would make them occasionally. And, of course, one cannot visit Chicago without having a Chicago hot dog, the best on the planet.

I mention my dinner, because I really believe that what you ate just before sleeping can affect what dreams you will have.

Last night, I went to bed and had a lot of vivid and strange dreams. In one, I went back to my high school. They were having a rally of some sort in the gym. Now, I may have liked high school in real life, but I only attended one rally and one football game in my entire high school career. The reasons for this are many. One, I couldn’t understand organized sports. I guess I still can’t. I was also what one would call “alternative” – I was a hippie. Hippies tended to head for the hills (literally, they were only a few miles away) and communed with nature while smoking natural herbal ingredients. Also, in my “spare” time, I had what one might consider a full time job. Good thing I was a natural brain, and that the school had split sessions.

In my dream, I floated above the cheerleaders and people in the stands. They were there for graduation. I’ve had this dream before. I’ve dreamed that I went back to school years later and graduated with the current class. The faces were all different, but the teachers were pretty much the same ones. After graduating, I went into the parking lot looking for my car, which I couldn’t find. I paced back and forth thinking, “this is where I parked it” with other kids looking at me like I had lost my mind. Then I went back inside the school, and the layout had changed while I was looking for my car. When I went back outside, the parking lot had changed.

I finally woke up in a sweat. It seemed like I was trapped in a revolving door. The worst part was having the current crop of kids laughing at me.

I think I’ll have a piece of fish and some rice pilaf for dinner tonight.