Batch

06-13-2017 -- Shopping at Publix, and actually making a comment during the dream about 'where shopping is supposed to be a pleasure.' Wandering around the place quite a bit, though I can't fully remember why. What I can remember is going out to the car (white Corolla, for some odd reason) several times. One time, I was kind of being half-followed around the store by a couple of troublemakers who would literally bump into me now and then, and trying to cause trouble. Another time, while I was out at the car, I opened the trunk and found three black or dark blue ski masks that had a really creepy vibe to them.

Back into the store, and pushing around a shopping cart trying to find a place where I can take it in or out, grabbing food, and trying to check it out with one of the cashiers, then head back outside. This time I glance up to see a couple of T-Rex-like dinosaurs off in the distance, waving around machine guns and heading our way. People start screaming, including myself (no real surprise), and we try to run back into the store, but the dinosaurs are moving too quickly, and are firing at us. I act like I've been hit and drop to the ground, playing dead, but it doesn't seem to fool the dinosaur, because he walks right up to me and starts firing the gun directly at my head. I am getting quite a headache from this, but other than that, suffer no real harm.

So since the dinosaur is still shooting me and playing dead isn't doing much good, I hop to my feet, and just turn to walk in the store, which really freaks the dinosaur out. As I step inside, the place is a mess. There are wounded and blood everywhere. Some are sick (mentally) because of what they've seen, and are throwing up. There's a really dark, spooky, apocalyptic feel to the whole thing, with the slightest hint of zombies. I take the escalators up to the third floor, where I wander into a sort of a homeless shelter-style dorm room with bunk beds all around. One poor, deluded soul is painting scripture-sounding verses on the walls, but he's really messed up, and the verses are twisted, inaccurate, and foolish.

We're all just kind of standing around and talking, and I mention I've got some creepy ski masks if anybody needs them, though I say I have no idea where they came from, and nobody seems to much care. At one point, they open up a roll-up door in the northeast wall, and a whole bunch of people come marching in, four abreast, looking almost like they are on a stand-up roller coaster. Somehow they don't want to be here, and have volunteered to all be shot out of a giant slingshot ... and remember, we're on the third floor, here. It's really screwy. Anyway, once they've been shot out, we're all kind of congregating around the door into the dorm, discussing how that was wrong and freaky, and in just kind of shuffling around, I step through the door without even meaning to.

Lights start flashing and an alarm starts blaring, and I'm a little freaked out as everybody else steps back from me. It turns out I've now been here for something like three years or something, but I never realized that once we entered the dorm, we're not allowed to exit it unless they ask us to. Some guy dressed up in a sort of monk's habit walks up to me, and is kind of pushing me along, while asking if I thought I could just pretend the whole thing never happened, and I hopefully say something like "Well, I'd be glad to," but he's not allowing it. They open the roll-up door again, and are pushing me into a sort of parachute harness kind of thing, then I'm pushed out the door. I drop the three floors, but the harness keeps me safe, and when I hit the ground I take it off and drop it.

I'm in what used to be the open parking lot of the Publix, but it has now been converted into a covered parking structure with soldiers kind of wandering around. I glance around to see where the soldiers are and who else is around, and see a strange figure that I could swear I half-remember from some sort of movie or TV show, but can't remember what. The guy seems like a cross between Trick (the mayor's assistant from BtVS) and the Joker, or just some weird guy in a sort of jester costume, but he kind of tilts his head, gives me an odd look, and dances a few steps of an odd little jig that makes it look like he is a marionette or something. I know I should remember this, but I just can't place it.

Crouched down on the ground and muttering to himself is somebody I kind of recognize. It is mostly Tom Courtney, with just a hint of Miles O'Brien thrown in, and he's kind of muttering to himself, something about how God has told him to wait here, and he's trusted, and waited, and been left alone, and it seems he has probably been waiting for me. Meanwhile, there's this whole sort of Logan's Run kind of vibe going on, as all the soldiers and creepy people keep kind of starting to approach us, then back off, because the spot on Tom's hand is green, and the spot that was on my hand has kind of been painted over white, because I was thrown out of the dorms, but God protected me from the gun, and is still protecting me, and since neither of us have the red spot, they can't come after us, but they keep trying to start in our direction, anyway. Meanwhile, I am just looking around the parking lot, trying to find out where my white Corolla is. Strange! Very strange.

12-19-2013 -- [Two detailed lucids today, surrounded by days of nothing even memorable. Sigh! But these two dreams were really cool!] I am in a supermarket that seems familiar, though I cannot identify the exact chain or location. There is a bit with managers and entering through turnstiles or something that seem vaguely reminiscent of other recent dreams, then soon I am wandering the aisles. Eventually I come across an aisle that has snack cakes, and among the various offerings are the Little Debbie Christmas Cakes that I enjoy. But for some reason the packs have been broken up, and the individual plastic-wrapped two packs are being offered for sale, and a few of them are a new strawberry flavor, rather than my usual preferred chocolate flavored ones. Since I don't know if they are any good, I decide to open one and eat it, to test how I like it, so I can decide if I want to buy a bunch of them or not. I figure I will just take the wrapper to the register with whatever else I decide to purchase, and pay for them all at once. I don't really like the strawberry ones that much, but I still want to get some of the chocolate.

Suddenly I find I have left the store, and I don't know why, but I am kind of worried about it. I never paid for the one I ate, and even if I go back, they are going to be mad at me, and darn it, I don't even know why I left! I find myself in an odd blend of California and Omaha that I have dreamed of before. I am on a freeway that is a cross between the 22 in California and I-680 in Omaha. I am trying to figure out exactly where I am and where the store was and get back to it, and I seem to be driving Joe L's Lexus SUV. I am just starting to turn a corner while muttering about pizza, and a nearby cop hears me and calls me over. I am worried about a ticket or something, but no, he just points to an NYPD (New York Pizza Deli) and says it is his favorite. Soon after, some rough looking guys in a beat up van (who look like they could be real trouble) are flagging me down ... to make their own recommendation! Nuts, all of them!

Soon I am back on the freeway, heading north, but the car has disappeared, and I am now flying along. Soon I am flying through a building, and some woman is attacking me, saying something about how because I am flying, I killed her husband. I think my dead mom is trying to argue with her about it. Meanwhile, I am just trying to get away from the crazy woman when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I glance back to find a ghostly angel flying above me. I think it is Louie Anderson [and it took me perhaps 45 minutes to find him on the internet to identify him ... though it turns out he is not dead in real life, like I thought], who apologizes for her, saying she doesn't really mean it, she is just upset about his death. Though I had nothing to do with Louie's death, somehow I help his wife to easily pass on to join him, and the two of them fly off to heaven.

Meanwhile, they have carried me far higher into the air than I usually manage to fly on my own, and I find myself up around maybe thirty stories in the air, and am flying back toward the ground. I am worried about hitting the power lines and such, which are everywhere, and almost forming a net waiting for me, but the positive aspects of the dream hold, and I easily sail through them without getting caught up, until I am back at a level I am comfortable with, 20 to 30 feet in the air. I am now getting fairly close to where I think the store is, but I find myself flying through the middle of a generic shopping mall (not one of the specific ones I often dream of). I am now flying south through this mall, heading for an exit, but there are a couple of sisters (at least I assume they are sisters, as they look quite similar.) They are large women, bulky, but not seriously fat. They remind me of a cross between one of my relatives and a balloon artist named Patricia Bunnell. They are kind of chasing me and trying to catch me for my daring to be different and unique, and having the ability to fly.

I speed up and try to fly to the exit, but they sense what I am doing. "He's trying to escape," they scream, and rush to the doors ahead of me, blocking them off so I can't get through. So I turn around and start to fly in the opposite direction, figuring I will lose them, and find another set of doors to exit out of. Problem is, others start to chase me, more out of interest than the anger the two women were showing. One guy and his wife are close, and he manages to grab my leg even though I am right up by the ceiling, because he is 9 or 10 feet tall, with long arms. Darn it! I keep trying to slip his grasp and fly away, and as they hold on to me, they both figure out how to fly, and are soon able to fly on their own. "How is this possible?" she asks. "It's a dream," I reply. "We're all dreaming?" I don't want to be rude and tell her she is probably only a figment of my imagination, so I hedge and say "I only know that I am dreaming." "Well, how did you get so smart about dreams?" And I start to explain to her how I started making lists of my dreams back in high school, and by now have thousands of dreams written down to learn from. I also hint at the fact that since I know I am dreaming, I might find somebody to have some fun with.

By this point, right as I am considering landing and trying to lose myself in the crowd, we exit through some doors on the west side of the mall, and the couple let go of me, and decide to fly off on their own to their own adventure. I'm pleased to find I am finally free, and am about to soar off and resume trying to find the grocery store, when suddenly somebody else latches on to me. I find it is a tall, attractive, rather Nordic blonde with a thick Nordic accent. "How?" she demands of me, as we drift through the air. I start explaining about knowing you are dreaming as I wrap my arms around her. I tell her she is warm and safe and protected. I won't let anything happen to her. I steal a line from Douglas Adams and explain that flying is really quite simple ... you just have to throw yourself at the ground, and miss. But I stress it's the bit about missing that is important, because otherwise it can be kind of painful. I wrap my arms further around her as she chuckles, very close to feeling her up as I continue this wonderful new technique of seduction by teaching flying.

07-21-2013 -- I am walking by an apartment complex on either Hickory or Dale, where there is no apartment complex. I am more or less minding my own business, when I run into this guy who starts yelling at me. He tells me I am worthless and horrible, and he knew my mother, and my actions caused her to die in sorrow, and I ought to just go off and die, myself ... he goes on and on and on with really horrible accusations. I think back to the life my mother lived, and how old she was when she died, and how our relationship was (fine), and I can't see any reason for his accusations, and I tell him so, but he just keeps screaming at me, while I sit at this picnic table and begin to doubt myself and feel worse and worse. He finally stalks off, leaving me depressed, until a nice fellow I recognize from around the place comes up to me, asks me what is wrong, and tries to console me for a bit.

Soon I am feeling a little better, and I start to look around. I spot something that seems a little interesting: there is an empty tape box sitting next to an unlabeled tape, and the tape box says it is the first of three parts in a continuation of the Chronicles of Narnia, the first of which is about the silver throne at Cair Paravel. I instantly slide the unlabeled tape into a machine that instantly makes me a copy of it.

Soon I find myself in a family-type setting with a father and his little girl, and there is a VCR there, so I stick the tape in, wanting to watch it. There is a flash of light, and I suddenly realize. I have no idea what is on this tape. Sure, it could have been the the tape of the new Chronicles. It could also be a porno tape, just about to blare out a sex scene in front of this little girl! I violently stab at the eject button, and we see just a couple of seconds of a pair of silver boots sitting right in front of a ruby throne, before the tape ejects. I guess it was the right tape.

The father glances at me, as if to ask what's up, and I explain about the whole thing, and not being sure about what was on the tape, and even about feeling guilty for copying it. I apologize, and he looks at me like I am crazy, and decides to ignore me. He may be ignoring me, but a Narnian dwarf suddenly appears in front of me and tells me it is no real problem. If I can't finish the tape before leaving the library, they'll gladly make a transcript for me. He takes the tape and disappears with a pop, and I suddenly know the next time I make it back to the room where I copied the tape, I'll have a printed copy of it that I can take legally. I start to walk away feeling much better about myself.

I soon find myself in a small village of small houses with thatched roofs, and a young woman asks me what I am so happy about. I start to explain about more stories in Narnia, and the dwarf and the video tape, but she is walking away from me to the right. I turn to the left and see the same woman, and her daughter, and she asks me "What are you talking about?" "The Narnia story I was just telling you about." She says I wasn't telling her about any story, and I turn to look to the right and see a bent and shuffling old woman just about to turn the corner. She seems very sinister, somehow. I call out to her to wait a second, but she just continues around the corner.

I chase after her, and I see her just entering a crowd, so I continue forward, but when I get there, she is nowhere in sight. It is like she just disappeared into thin air. I find myself in the middle of maybe a dozen or so clowns, in rather duller makeup than normal, and ask if it is a convention or something. I am waiting for an answer, until I hear a noise that causes me to turn around back the way I came. There are three little girls standing there, being approached by a bent old hag looking more and more like the hag the queen turned into in Snow White to give her the apple. I realize whatever this thing is, it can change shapes to look like anybody it wants to. I run forward to grapple with 'her' and protect the little girls, and I suddenly find I am wrestling with a grim reaper figure in black robes (which I facetiously refer to as Skeletor) and losing the battle.

Finally I start speaking to it in the name of Jesus, and it starts to steam a little bit, and flinch back from me in pain, and as I continue, it breaks away and tries to run off. I give chase again, but it runs forward into another crowd of people. I run forward, and find myself being grabbed. I tense, ready to fight, but it is three Golden Horseshoe can-can girls who have pulled me into a tickle war. Three ladies working together, not one, not the thing, whatever it is. Soon I am walking along, studying everyone I see very carefully, looking for the old hag, or any single person.

Suddenly I find it is very dark, almost pitch black, and I am walking near the door to my apartment complex with no idea how I got there. It is kind of foggy, and there is a forboding figure looming in the fog just by my door. Just as I realize I have fallen asleep at some point, and am now dreaming, the figure jumps out and attacks me. Now I am able to see it's true form, a red devil in a black death robe, and I am very, very scared that this thing can invade me dreams. But there is no hesitation this time. "I come against you in the name of Jesus! I come against you in the name of Jesus!" It is flinching at the name. "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" Suddenly there is a powerful figure, an angel, standing next to me, battling the creature. Unexpectedly, it is female. I thought angels were male ....

She speaks in one of it's ears "I come against you in the name of Jesus." I follow and do the same. She does the same to the other ear, and again I follow, and do the same. It writhes at our words. Just as I realize we ought to do one ear each at the same time, I wake up, panting from the battle.

01-23-2013 -- I'm on some sort of church camping trip with Mike Sullins and the gang. I'm not sure, but I think I was an adult for the whole dream, kind of helping to oversee the trip, and it has been an OK trip, but not fabulous. We're loading up the bus to head back to the church, and I find myself trying to half claim one of the front seats. I am given the front bench on the passenger side, which is fine. Some little kid who may be the pastor's son is given the spot just under the bar that I used to love as a kid, but it doesn't bother me as I couldn't fit there as an adult, anyway.

Mike is driving, and the trip home from the usual camp (from dreams, didn't go camping with this church in real life) seems very short, only taking around 45 minutes, when it always seemed the trip used to take 1 1/2 to 2 hours. Soon we're pulling into the church parking lot, and starting to unload the bus, while waiting for parents to come and pick their kids up. I'm probably waiting for everybody else to be picked up, before I get a ride home on the bus.

Mike is going on and all about how good the Boy Scouts are, and how great the trip was, and stuff like that. He seems to be dressed in a scout master uniform, and the pastor's son is in a scout uniform. But something is said that seems to tick the kid off, and he suddenly stalks out of the room, down the driveway, and out to curb on Page Avenue.

He starts angrily calling for his dad, the pastor, who is standing about 20 feet away, but doesn't seem to hear him. This amazes me since I am much further away, and inside the building, but I can hear him just fine. After three loud calls, his father hears him, and walks over and picks him up. He talks to him and comforts him a bit, then puts him back in the room where I am waiting around.

The boy is maybe four or five, and he starts playing with a little girl who is maybe six or seven. Soon they're wrestling a bit, and there seem to be hints of Indian Wrestling in their play, but other forms of wrestling, as well. Somehow it overflows, and I am something of an innocent bystander, as I soon find myself lying on the ground, half-restrained, with them undoing my pants for some reason.

Right at that moment, the assistant pastor busts in, and starts ranting and raving, and wants to know what the Sam Hill is going on! I think he feels something wrong, sexually, is going on, as they are undoing my pants, and I try to defend myself by saying maybe I should have put a stop to things sooner, but I wouldn't have let it go any further if they had tried to pull down my pants, but he seems to blame the kids and feels they are being very evil, and I am only being foolish.

"What if they'd used super glue on you?" He demands. "It could have taken us hours to free you. Or even days if we couldn't get the proper solvent!" He keeps ranting on and on about how bad the kids were, and how could I have allowed this, and it is the story oh Jonah and the Whale all over again! I don't see it as the same thing at all. I don't see how that story ties in, and I don't see any of it as all that bad, but he just won't listen at all.

Finally I have had enough, and like the kid before me, I stalk out of the the room, step over a tiny fence (maybe a foot or a foot and a half tall, more decorative than anything else), and to the curb on Page Avenue, just like the pastor's son, before me. The assistant pastor is calling after me, trying to stop me from going, and not getting why I was so upset with him, but I won't listen, and I keep on my way. I walk down Page to Stanton, then walk under the freeway overpass, before making my way down Calendula and into the flower tract.

I don't know what the big deal is ... I don't agree with the guy, but its not like I don't still plan to attend church next week, or anything. But strange things are happening. People start trying to push me or grab me. The area is turning into a cross between a sort of an old age home and an apartment complex, though the entire neighborhood I am walking through is nothing but single family homes. But somehow I find myself in the apartment complexes behind the church, instead of in the neighborhood I was walking through. [The apartment complexes that aren't there in real life, but have been in lots of dreams.]

In past dreams these apartment complexes have had fun things and nightmare-style things happen in them. In this dream, they are bad things. I find myself arguing religion and politics with people, while going through unpleasant chase bits that seem to go on forever (though I think they really are pretty short.) At one point I am being grabbed an restrained by nurses because they don't agree with my principles, but soon they are turning into attractive-but-old-fashioned school teachers who have a sort of Stepford Wives sort of vibe to them.

I burst out of one apartment complex into a sort of hilly area, where I find myself trying to cross the hills while avoiding dangerous flaming horses. Since they are in groups of four, they just might be the four horses of the apocalypse. Strange and spooky. At first I try to hide from them, but then I find four of them right next to me in a wide open space, so all I can do is ignore them and hope they ignore me, or if they don't, hope I'm powerful enough to survive them.

The entire time, both political and spiritual arguments continue to go on in my head. I manage to get out of the hills and into another of the apartment complexes, but I'm still being chased by the old-fashioned brunettes, who are trying to wrestle me to the ground and restrain me. I don't understand why I find myself saying it, since it still seems to me that he was the nut, and the one in the wrong, but I suddenly speak out loud and say "Fine! I'll apologize to the assistant pastor."

A gap appears in the brick-wall corridor I am in, and I stumble into the lot of the construction supply company directly behind the church, free from all the people chasing me. "On Sunday, after church," I mutter to myself. 50 pound bags of cement start dropping on me. "OK, OK, right now." The cement stops dropping on me, and I claim over the brick wall into the church parking lot.

I approach one of the elders of the church and ask where the assistant pastor is, and he says he left about 15 minutes ago. He looks at me and says something like "You don't look like a process server, but I'm still not going to tell you where he lives or give you his phone number." I end up back in the same room, waiting (perhaps for a day or two) until the assistant pastor shows up again. "Really, God?!?" I kind of announce to the sky.

"Hey Dude! Don't disrespect the Lord!" I find a slightly angry hippie kind of shushing me. "Yeah? Let me tell you a story!" And I proceed to relate the entire dream to him, while he looks more and more flabbergasted as I go on. There are several others here, who also look more and more shocked. As I finish my tale, I look at them, all staring at me in amazement, and ask "Don't tell me the same thing happened to all of you?"

"Oh no, man," the hippie says. "Nothing like that happened to me. Not in the specifics. But in the overall, yeah, man. We're all here to apologize to the assistant pastor because we wouldn't listen to him, man! It's weird!"

09-14-2012 -- I'm in my room setting up some sort of computer link that will allow me to broadcast some sort of video from my computer to others in the same room. People or making fun of me and insulting me, but I carry on. Soon I find I am not doing this is my room somewhere, but in the street right by Peter Marshall Elementary. In my dream I think I am on La Reina, but actually I am at the corner where Glencrest turns into Nancita.

It is dark, late in the evening, and I am just about to start the 'broadcast' when a young teen comes out of the house next to the school. He is very slim, but athletic, and seems to look like a cross between Kevin B. and Steve K. He has a bit of an attitude, but I ignore it, and peacefully invite him to join us. He is unsure, but does so.

Turns out what I am about to show is a documentary I made about a mean old guy (who turns out to have been the teen's grandpa) who lived in the house until he died. Though everybody in the neighborhood hated him (and he seemed to hate everybody) I tried to get to know him and understand him, and then documented the odd things that happened when he died.

Problem is, Hollywood came in at the same time and made a horror film 'based on a true story' that was truly horrifying. My documentary was very, very different. Because of all the attention Hollywood directed their way, the family just wants to be left alone to forget, but the neighbors remain up in arms. Which is why I am going to broadcast the thing here in the neighborhood on this night, to hopefully help everybody understand and quit freaking out.

As the documentary plays, you see little kids from the neighborhood talking about how mean and crazy and scary the old guy is. I try to approach the teen when he is several years younger, as he is walking from the house to the gate of the school. I am being very gentle as I ask if he will talk to me for a few minutes and answer some questions.

Where Hollywood produced a dark horror film, I recorded a tale of redemption and understand. I got to know the old guy, learned his history and why he got to be so mean, and slowly helped to reason him back to where he was willing to start being a nice guy again. As he was just starting to turn around, though, he died. And either God or an angel came for him, though Hollywood portrayed it as the Devil.

We're about halfway through the film when there is a brilliant flash of light, and a somewhat younger looking version of the old guy appears in the yard and walks into the house. The teen tells me he's got to go, and starts walking toward the house. I tell him we'll pause the film for a minute, and he glares at me. I wasn't trying to rush him, it was just an expression. I tell him we'll pause the film for as long as we need to.

As I stand there, a voice in my head suddenly tells me I need to enter the house, too. I'm kind of nervous, but I fold up my laptop and carry it to the house. I enter the house (where the family is having a family reunion) and kind of shrug my shoulders at the mother, who shrugs back.

There is a brilliant white figure standing there who is God. He looks like a cross between George Burns (hence the title of this dream) and Henry Fonda in Gideon's Trumpet. Most of the family doesn't want me around getting into their business, but they do appreciate that I took the trouble to learn the truth, and then tried to tell others that truth. God makes it clear that he called me in to witness his visit, so they pretty much have to accept me.

He is here to help them heal, and put the whole situation behind them. While he is too mild and 'understanding' to be the real God (who is an awesome and scary presence), he is very impressive. This is his second visit to this house. The first was right after the guy died, when he brought his spirit back to say goodbye. Tonight he is going to bring another spirit back for a few minutes, this time Tom D., who died a week or two ago. [To the best of my knowledge Tom is still alive and well.]

Tom appears before us, and seems to know the people and situations (how that is when he has spent most his life in Florida and this is in California I don't know) but he's calming people and soothing nerves and helping everyone to relax. I am very embarrassed and shy when he reminds me that I can't shut myself away, and I need friends and family, too. Wish they'd leave me out of it, but I am not going to argue with Tom or God, so I just kind of nod.