Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Dream - Young self one and two, dreams of different lives

In January of 2008, I had what were really two dreams, one after the other, perhaps one leading into the other, which showed younger versions of myself, when I was a kid, but different from what I was like back then. They were other lives lived in which things had turned out differently, including a different version of my grandmother's death.

The first dream took place in a very large house. My mother was there, and at some point she encouraged me to go out to a patio or porch on the side and back of the house. Lots of little tables were there with food and things. Two little kids had been left with us who were kids or grandkids of my brother or one of my sisters. My mother and I had to watch them. They ran around among the tables, playing and being a nuisance.

The boy later wanted some orange juice, and I went back inside the house, toward the front of a long room filled with rows of tables to get it. I was pointed by someone toward an odd device made of ornate tubes that looked something like a harp frame. It contained orange juice and poured different kinds - high-pulp, no-pulp, normal, spicy - depending on which opening it was poured from. I was surprised at the elaborateness of it, but I was assured that the kid was used to it. A much smaller contraption held lemonade.

It was dark and late at night when my brother came back. He seemed happy. Someone was with him, and I believe some other people also came, including my father. The scene kept replaying itself, changing a little each time.

A younger version of myself showed up, I think maybe actually brought by my brother in one of the replays of the scene (in real life my brother is younger than I am). My younger self was perhaps 12 years old, with short hair perhaps an inch long, maybe slightly longer toward the front. He had a big smile like my brother did, but didn't look quite like I actually looked back then. I'm not sure my younger self knew who I was.

In the second dream, some people were going to make a movie about my life. Danny DeVito was chosen to play my younger self. I thought it was a strange choice, partly because he wasn't tall enough and partly because he didn't look anything like me or have the right personality. His hair was dark and he looked much younger than he does now, but for an instant when I contemplated his age he looked much older with wrinkles and gray hair and then he was young again.

He went to go through a door and looked back at me and laughed, and then continued through the door. I thought, well maybe he was the right choice after all.

I then saw various scenes of my life, my life as it had been in the dream. Apparently my life was being reviewed in an effort to get material for the movie script.

In the dream version of my life, my father was much different. He was tall with dark hair perhaps one and a half inches long on top, a long rectangular face, and a long muscular torso. In real life, my father was tall and strong, but started going bald fairly early, and tended to be overweight. My mother, who was shown in a separate scene, looked about the same as she had in real life, except she was thinner with more of a medium weight. They were both in their mid-thirties at the time shown, and seemed happy.

In the dream, I was put with foster parents for the 7th and 8th grades, but I'm not sure why. I looked back at the 8th grade time and I seemed to be happy. My younger self didn't quite look like I did, looking more like a combination of my brother and myself. In real life, I have a brother and two sisters, but in the dream I didn't have any sisters, though I think I did still have a brother. My younger self also seemed to interact more with the other kids than I did in real life, though he still seemed a little bit shy.

I watched my 8th grade class, at a time when the class was not in session. Kids were in the classroom, standing in various groups, talking to each other. Watching the scene, I saw some girls and remarked to someone with me that I liked a particular girl back then, she was hot. I gave her first name and a couple of different possibilities for her last name, and was a little bothered that I was unable to quite remember it. I don't believe the name in the dream quite matched a real name, but in real life there was a girl something like that - slim with a reasonably good figure, light brown hair and perhaps a little taller and somewhat different looking than the one in the dream. In real life I thought she looked somewhat attractive - especially her figure - but I didn't talk to her and thought someone else looked better (I didn't talk to her either).

My impression is that my younger self, in this new version of my life, did have some interaction with the girls, even if in a relatively minor way. I'm not sure which girls, though, and it may or may not have included the girls mentioned above. And while this version of myself was less shy than I had in reality been, he still tended to let the people around him, whether boys or girls, do most of the talking.

Toward the end there was a scene at a restaurant where I was with my mother and grandmother and perhaps someone else. I was now older than before, an adult, though younger than I am in real life. The tables were widely spaced, and we were sitting down at one in the middle and toward one wall.

Then the scene moved forward in time a little and my grandmother was on the floor on her side, partly curled up from where she fell off the chair. Everyone in the room was staring at her. My mother was leaning to the side and forward, looking at her, an expression of alarm on her face. I was farther down the table, in the process of standing up.

Some time passed, while various people went over to my grandmother and looked briefly at her, perhaps touching her lightly but apparently not doing much else. I could hear them talking among themselves about her, in low, mumbling tones. I didn't catch much of what was being said. I went over there, too, in the form of my younger self, after the others had finished and had indicated that I should come. I bent down and looked at her and I think touched her shoulder, but there didn't seem to be anything I could do.

A little while later the ambulance arrived. Bright light poured in through the suddenly open door and across the floor past where my grandmother lay. A paramedic was in the doorway in silhouette, his shadow stretching across the floor toward us. He went to her and looked at her briefly, then looked up and shook his head and said, "She's gone."

I was watching the scene from the side and above like a ghost. I nodded and acknowledged to someone with me that, yes, this was always sad when things like this happen, though I seemed somehow far removed in time from the scene and even reality itself and could only manage a wistful sort of sadness, like sadness at the passing of an era, and retained a small, understanding smile.

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The Pomeranian and the Crawfish

This is another story that I did for a message board for a thread that was normally concerned with comically constructing new words and definitions. At that time people were taking turns writing short stories containing a short list of words given by another user. The list of words for this story: pomeranian, headress, sled, crawfish, creep

This story was part of a group I did for post number 989. I did another group for post number 1000, catching up on ones I missed. And as with post 1000, post 989 was the second time that number was reached, due to the board crash that cut several hundred from my post count but left the posts themselves unaffected.

This story is dated 5:04 AM, November 29, 2006, Arizona time (MST).


The pomeranian rode his sled across the ice, his head held high. He wore a headdress of nobility and power, denoting his status.

As he turned a corner, a crawfish stuck out a claw and knocked him off the sled. He lay stunned, and the crawfish came toward him, creeping silently across the ice.

The crawfish looked down at the pomeranian's crumpled form, then reached down and took the headdress from him. Placing the headdress on its own head, it went away muttering, "I wondered where that went."

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The Dance

Many of the things mentioned in this poem actually happened to me. I haven't seen any sea serpents yet, though. I haven't seen any angels either, at least as far as I know. I do think I have a guardian angel, probably several. Perhaps some day they'll appear more openly and we can have a talk, even if I don't see them dance.

This poem is dated 6:38 AM, August 25, 2007, Arizona time (MST).


How many angels can dance
On the head of a pin?
Was an argument
No one could win.

How many sea serpents
In the sea?
First depends
On whether sea serpents be.

How many flying saucers
In the skies?
How to tell
The truth from lies?

Would something that goes bump
Within the night,
Still go bump
In the broad daylight?

I have seen something
In the sky,
I have not seen since,
Though the days go by.

My name was called
By no one there,
Though I came when called
And looked everywhere.

Things that might have gone wrong,
Somehow went right.
In darkness trapped,
I saw with more than sight.

Helped somehow
by things unseen,
Who knew just when
To intervene.

So much out there
we do not see,
How can we say
it cannot be.

Could angels dance upon a pin,
Singing merrily all night long?
Would we all be welcomed there,
If we weren't a stranger to their song?

Or do we need to see
What can't be seen,
To join the dance
Where the angels sing?

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Thursday, September 25, 2008

Where's my sock? or Sock on, sock off

Back when I was in high school, a long time ago, a more restrictive dress code was instituted, requiring, among other things, that socks be worn.

Not long after this, I was sitting in class one day when I felt coldness on one of my legs, near the ankle. I looked down and discovered, to my horror, that I had only one sock on. To make matters worse, I was sitting at the very front of the class, approximately in the middle.

The teacher, a man, was on the far right side of the room, standing up, talking to the class. After a while, he turned and walked to the left, I guess to talk to somebody over there. As he passed me, he frowned at me but didn't say anything.

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