semiotic_pirate: (Default)
Good morning LJ. I woke up out of the most disturbing, yet enlightening dream just a little while ago.

I don't remember exactly how it started but I believe I was running some kind of errand - or just traveling. It had morphed from something to do with school to this; during which I was in the middle of a classroom surrounded by my peers while going through either a locker or a magical (bottomless) bag of holding that was doubling as a mailbox... People kept on asking me what I was doing, or just looking at what was coming out of the bag/box and then either commenting or just "ooooh-ing" - like when I found this huge wad of large denomination American dollars. *I always have and will want one of those bag/boxes, ever since I saw one in an old Spiderman one-off graphic novel back in the late eighties / early nineties.

Anyway, back to the traveling portion. The great thing, which I didn't recognize immediately as a great thing, was that I was flying. No obvious machinery but it was definitely mechanical in nature and not magical. I was only about 10 yards or so off the ground... but I was flying. So along I go - and all of a sudden, something was acting up in the machine. As I start bringing myself down for a controlled landing I notice that I'm coming down adjacent to what (now that I think back on it, it could've been minimum security since there was only one fence...) appeared to be a prison. Inmates, wearing reddish jumpsuits, were lining the fence looking out and the fence had razor wire atop it. The buildings were back a ways from the fence and there was green grass between them and it but the building itself was an indistinct brick edifice. It reminded me a little of the minimum security prison over by the Uconn campus in Storrs/Mansfield, CT.

Anyways, as I came in for that landing I also noticed that one of the jumpsuit-wearing prisoners was outside of the fence looking in. He had this wicked awful mullet and reminds me now just a little bit of how I vaguely remember some X-Man character looked (in the early days of Rogue and Gambit being on the team (googles "x-men character mullet") LONGSHOT.

So. Back to the landing (man this is taking forever!). As I land, mullet-prisoner notices me and gets a nasty little smile on his face and starts to approach me. This is when the fear part of the dream starts - and I hadn't had the exhilaration that I usually have during flying dreams up to that point either. As he approaches I hop into the air a few times trying to reactivate my flying and as he gets to within a couple of yards I take off; he smirks an takes off after me. (In retrospect: AHA! That's how he must've gotten over the fence.)

Instead of facing the direction of flight, at first, I am facing him and he is facing me and we are flying that 30 yards or so off the ground parallel to each other as he tries to close in. I keep the distance between us and hit a button at the lower, right edge of my jacket in an attempt to speed up - knowing that I should be able to speed up - without being able to speed up. I start throwing things from my pockets in an attempt to distract/injure mullet-prisoner. The second thing I throw is a red pushpin. The metal on it flashes in the sun while the translucent top seems to glow. Oh crap! I just gave his a weapon of some sort!! He follows it down to the ground while I fly away home, knowing that as soon as he gets the pin he might be after me again and I want to get to somewhere I feel safer and can better defend myself.

I don't remember landing but find myself in a kitchen near the sink with earbuds in and am probably puttering. My DH is somewhere in the house (which I discover is a two story with a great room attached to the kitchen, with the great room having a cathedral ceiling and a series of rooms on the second floor all fronting an open corridor with a balcony to the great room below. All of a sudden, I notice mullet-prisoner had somehow found me and he was just about to enter a room (DH's office) that was diagonally across and upstairs from the open double door sized entrance to the kitchen. I start to try and yell for DH to alert him but sound seems to be constricted in my throat; I try again and again, and I realize that there are swords in his office which would be ever so much more dangerous than the pushpin and the panic roars up even stronger, and then realize I CAN scream but the earbuds are somehow dulling my hearing and I start to feel the screaming in my throat, it going raw screaming my DH's name and just flat out screaming like a horror flick. Mullet-prisoner decides to make a run for it now that my voice is so strong and as the front for is closing on his heels my DH and Aunt come running into the great room from the left to ask me why I'm so upset. At this point, as I think I start to tell them what happened, I wake.


I lay there, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling, slowly calming down, and start to analyze the dream. I come to the following conclusions:

1. The prison was representing my workplace, at which I had just put in a twelve hour day to get quarter-end reports done so I could relax and enjoy the 4th.

2. The mullet-prisoner represented my never-ending stream of work projects (NESWP, pronounced ness-whip, which I coined on Twitter for a friend) that have chased me through life for a while now; how lately (the past year and a half really) I've felt like I was always scrambling to get things done with occasionally satisfying moments where I seem to catch up to everything only to be buried under another pile of NESWP. My coworker and I work for a commercial farm loan division for our regional farm bank and the third slot of our analyst unit keeps getting filled with people they want to eventually (pardon the pun) farm out to the branch side of the lending division so the last few years that third position has been almost like a revolving door and the work load on the commercial side for my friend and I has been getting heavier and heavier. The position just went empty again about a month ago and the person who had agreed to come in from NYS decided at the last minute that he wouldn't be joining the team after all and my friend and I finally (after talking about it between ourselves for a few months and having mentioned the workload issue in our annual reviews) set up a tentatively timed meeting with our division manager (who is in charge of the interview and hiring for the position) to talk about the need for another person on the team that will FOCUS on the commercial side in addition to or instead of another revolving door person that focuses on helping out on the branch side. I've got around 15-20 more loans in my portfolio than I did at the beginning of 2011 and between the normal upkeep on those loans and all the new and/or action requests for those loans that are streaming in... In the volatile economic environment agricultural businesses find themselves in (which isn't bad per se if it is managed correctly, a lot of my portfolio is thriving in it - however, it just seems to be exponentially increasing the workload for ME and my friend)... We need a third. Cue the entrance of Ender to come in and help out, eh?

3. While working those last seven hours I pounded down three cans of Mountain Dew and ate two Snicker's candy bars b/c I had no food and couldn't take the time to make the foray out to Chipolte's for food b/c I knew that soon I would be the only one left in the office and... in retrospect it doesn't make sense, I could've gotten food. But I still would've drank at least one of the MTDs to caffeinated myself to stay awake/alert/energized enough to plow through the TWENTY reports I had to write. I went in at 10:20am specifically b/c I knew that the end-of-quarter hold position (basically a list of all the commitments and balances on the loans, which I need to have before I can even start the reports) was going to be delivered much later than usual - we had it the Monday after quarter end last time and had a whole week and a half to get the reports done; which was good b/c I had to write-up a bunch of action requests and such that week so I ended up doing the board reports during an eight hour stretch at home that following weekend). The beginning of those seven hours was when I finally received the needed report; a report which is an essential component of my reports. My twenty reports. And the reports are on loans that are in my (I think I may be up to 76 loans total now) portfolio with a net hold/commitment of greater than or equal to $14.0 million.

When I got home (was it only last night?!) I was still so pumped up on caffeine that it had given me a headache and a feeling like I was engorged with too much energy which was exerting pressure on my head in the manner of a pending explosion. I made the drive home just peachy-keen, thanks. And getting home at 11pm in order to make a double strong sleepy tea, down a couple of valerian pills an benadryl, followed by a hot lavender scented shower and then drinking of the steeped tea while starting to read a steampunk novel in order to give the pills/tea time to kick in... When I finally laid back and shut off the light to sleep, and just as I started to MAYBE drift off - the DH starts lightly snoring. And, although the meds were working for the most part, I was enough still on the edge to be waaay oversensitive to any disturbance in the force. I am the Princess that cannot sleep because of the Pea that is irritating me through fifty mattresses, etc. And in the state I was in at the time there was no way in hell I was going to be able to get to sleep at that point. So I got up and went to the guest room. And after the dream woke me up, I climbed back into bed with the DH to think about the dream, and try to go back to sleep by letting my mind wander.

After analyzing the dream, I tried to drift off by letting my thoughts wander... I start wondering if I am where I want to be in life. And I started going into the whole "what-if I could go back in time and start over at some point in my life with a perfect memory of all I know now so I can end up in a much better position/place/etc." creating a waking-dream imagination scenario-building exercise. I may have fallen asleep as the scenes of the moments in time that I would step in to change were very vivid. I also thought about whether my DH would be better off without me, not in a if I never existed type of manner (like in It's A Wonderful Life) but more in the manner of if our paths had never crossed.

I discovered that, although I might - if it were possible - go back to different points in my life and make changes for the better to eliminate some of the rougher horrors and my student debt (meaning I would've gone to college earlier than I did in such a way that I would've taken longer but while working nights at a certain well paying blue collar job I had in the past, etcetera and so forth to reduce if not eliminate the student loan debt burden I hold today)... and a number of other small things here and there. The essential "where" that I am now existing in would've been the goal to which I would've guided myself to - even if the road to getting here would've been different (and maybe I'd have more years on the job or in the profession and getting a bigger paycheck) but I would still want to be working at the same company, and I would still have sought out my DH to get married to... Like a whole lifetime of scenes from my own personal version of the movie Sliding Doors.

I also decided, perhaps selfishly but mostly out of a loving and prideful opinion, that I didn't know if I would trust that there was anyone in the world (aside from Kate Bush if circumstances had been just right) would care for and take care of my DH in the manner in which he deserves. Rather, I came to the conclusion that I wouldn't give up my relationship with him b/c I love him so much - even if I drive him up the wall with some of my habits occasionally, and vice versa. Those annoyances aren't big enough to drive out the need for the wholeness I feel being a part of our relationship.

At that moment of clarity I realized I definitely wouldn't be getting back to sleep. After maybe +/- four hours of REM and dreams and another hour of pondering... I had to write it all down and share.
semiotic_pirate: (spock - sighing)
Many thanks to [ profile] sparkindarkness for the wonderfully uncomfortable dream I had just before waking. It had a lot of elements that brought to mind a post of his that I read yesterday about privilege and marginalization events experienced by a variety of people.

The dream:

We're in a gas station (the kind with a convenience store) at night. All but one of the pumps is full. My husband pulls into the empty one, but realizes the only trash can is away from the pumps. He drives over there to get rid of his trash, then proceeds to back-up to return to the pump (it makes sense b/c the open pump is on our side of the lot with backing in being the only option for where his gas tank opening is). When he is just about to pull in, he is cut off by this huge, old Ford/Chevy truck that is jacked up slightly - a "mudding" kind of vehicle with faded paint or reminiscent of a well used farmer's vehicle. This truck flies into the spot, while the driver is yelling at my husband for being in the way. The driver of the truck, and his companions that fill it would fit descriptions of Midwestern red-neck and/or farmer.

Somehow, in dream mode, I am outside the car talking to the largest of the passengers. He seems articulate and sensitive and we talk about what a horrible situation it was and he apologized for his friend.

I next found myself walking toward a convenience store and an Indian couple race past me... The man carrying his five-ish son under the armpits, keeping his feet off the ground so he could move faster. The woman following, and seeming to fall further behind with each quick step, while pushing an ungainly stroller toward a sidewalk and maneuvering said stroller, with difficulty, over the 6-8 inch high edge-stone of the sidewalk. As she got the stroller over the edge, her husband had disappeared around the corner of the store. (Why the store had a sidewalk around it I don't know. I think I've been to a couple like that where they use the sidewalk as a parking barrier to the storefront so people can approach on foot as well.)

As the woman is passing me, we are stepping up onto the curb together, I sense the husband's panic and her unease and understand that it is based upon the arrival of the loud & potentially dangerous driver that may or may not be a racist red-neck... Not sure whether I had talked to the woman about it, but knew this was the cause of her unease. I made a comment, where I implied a "those people" type of disparagement of the man/men of the truck... And as she made her getaway she looked behind me and her eyes widened in fear as she picked up speed, approaching the corner.

Uneasy myself, now, I look behind me at the steps that appeared in front of me and, as I swung one of the glass doors open to enter the store I looked behind me. Just getting to the curb was the man I'd talked to with another from the vehicle. Their heads were down and leaning toward each other in conversation. I didn't think they had been close enough to hear my comment to the woman, but I felt my face flush in shame all the same and rushed into the store.

I was in there to get a particular kind of soda (orange flavored seltzer or tonic water), found out somehow that I had to go out in the storage area in the back of the store to get the kind I wanted. Was back there with shelves to either side, unfinished wooden shelves, and, upon being asked, the stock boy hands me this very large and unwieldy flat of six-packs... I'm staggering around down the aisle trying to figure out a way to turn around to get back out to the parking lot when I find myself in that same aisle and place in the stockroom. There, I encounter a young woman and, realizing my plight, helps me break apart the flat; whereupon I say to her that I had just wanted one six-pack after all and move off back to the front of the store.

Bizarre dream. One definitely brought on by my brain trying to process through a combination of things but when I woke I thought to myself that it was probably highly inspired by sparky's post. It isn't his most recent. I had seen it a few days ago and had left it up in a window for later perusal and reading. That man is one smart cookie. If you go looking for it, it's the one where it is described how some people talk about their difficulties with strollers and use this in a conversation as a compared-difficulty when having a conversation with someone in a wheelchair while they are describing their difficulties in wheelchairs.

Please. Feel free to dissect and analyze the dream sequence above. Comment on my internal conflicts and issues. I mean, after all... How often do yo get a chance these days to comment on one of my posts?


May. 24th, 2008 04:44 am
semiotic_pirate: (eyeball)
Waking up at 4:30 am from a sound sleep (on my own, not caused by the cat) isn't so bad when the reason you are awake is because you just had a kick ass dream and you are excited over the possibility of "could it happen?" Yeah. It's that kind of morning.

Imagine the Nissan Pivo 2, writ large in an Iron Man type of way, being discussed in this interactive forum (yes CoB you were there, and we were both instrumental in getting the project into more than concept status).

Originally, (upon arrival at the venue for the presentation) CoB and I decided that sitting together wasn't a priority and he got this awesome seat near the stage but almost perched over it in some sort of organically formed balcony. I chose to participate/observe from a little further out in the audience.

Had this jackass sitting next to me that I tried to engage in discussion but he was just interested in hearing himself talk and in having his friends fawn over his inane chatter.

There was this really awesome presentation technique being used. Not sure if this is because of a discussion CoB and I had yesterday afternoon about the advent of the Scalzi BrainPal or if it was some sort of heads up display built into the theater where the presentation "slides" or movies were displayed for each person, but you couldn't see it displaying in front of other people (like the red lights in traffic where only the person in the lane facing the light can see it).

There was this amazing crossover technique making use of either corneal implants or harvesting the film that forms over the cornea (can't remember the disease) and recall myself thinking that elderly people would benefit from it the most. I had a discussion, after getting the roving PR person's attention, about a crossover technique that could be used to utilize the corneal stuff to enhance a couple of products - using the technique discovered for one to boost the other's power output or energy efficiency or something.

I remember being in an office later with the PR person having a discussion about stuff, and CoB coming up...

After trying to start a conversation with self-absorbed boy a couple of times, I got up and moved to a point 2/3 closer to where CoB was sitting, and he came down from his perch and sat beside me.

Later, not sure if I was still "me" or viewing through another's eyes, there was a kerfuffle about something and I was climbing over some (floating?) piles of stuff and machines to get to one of the IMP2 (Iron Man Pivo 2... tell me that isn't a great acronym for it, go ahead) prototypes because SOMEBODY had to prove that they would work and be useful to society. And damn it, I did, and the world was made better by my having stepped up and taken charge.

I really got a rush because of my previous love of Robotech. Yeah, I'm one of those geeks. And now I'm awake thinking of all the things that I had read or talked about yesterday that played a part in creating that dream.
semiotic_pirate: (boat on land)
Some people say that we travel in our dreams. Do we travel? Do we meet people we've known or will know in our life (or lives) or are we drawn to stories - like in Quantum Leap - where our actions make a difference in the outcome of an event? Do we witness things that we need to see? Maybe we travel as active participants or perhaps we travel only as observers. Last night,, I traveled. I went through a series of four or five sequences, though I only clearly recall the final three.

In the first sequence, I was in a plaza tower, at a hair salon. My hair was being cut in a style very much like by favorite cut (evah) that I got before going into NYC one time. There is a photo on the living room bureau. I felt fantastic when leaving the salon. A bounce in my step as I left the building and proceeded down a large ramp structure toward something. I was in a high state of self-confidence.

The next scene had me entering a parking garage. I knew my car was somewhere within but I didn't know just where. Usually in a sequence of this nature I become fear-filled and anxious as I search again and again futilely without finding my car. This time however, I met The Parking Attendant. A man of indeterminate race with black hair a mustache and paunch in a blue uniform. He, upon hearing me tell him that I knew my car was here, but not exactly where, immediately offered assistance. He swept his hand to the side (left hand) to show me just how BIG the place was... Unimaginable width, length, and depth to the place. The cars went on forever into darkness. We started traversing upward counter-clockwise around a solid center, up and up a spiral ramp. I knew that there was space to my far right but never looked that way. He had me travel close to the interior wall to my left indicating the descent trail of vehicles leaving to our direct right (though I not once saw a departing vehicle). After a while I noticed that we hadn't once stopped on any level to look for my car when suddenly we were walking along a wide, carpeted hallway. The carpet behan - appearing with the same markings as the garage floor - and then merged into a scarlet middle with golden borders. It felt rich beneath my feet and the surroundings also "felt" sumptous. I might've asked him about why we were walking without really searching (I am not sure) because he started telling me how lonely he was since he had lost his wife years ago. He hadn't been able to play the guitar since she had gone. That he was glad I had arrived to stand in her stead... There was nothing sinister about this, though I felt he was now leading me to a tower-top abode, where I would abide, with him. No confusion, no fear, no questioning, nothing but knowing that this was so. I felt at peace.

Then I was in a room that I knew had at least three other people in it. where I could see only one person clearly across to my left and another periphally sitting to my direct left. It was a large and comfortable room. We were each seated in comfortable arm chairs with a book in each of our hands - the same book. Leather bound, thick, with creamy pages filled with typeset words. The woman across from me had an afghan type crocheted shawl across her shoulders and it was her turn to read aloud. While she read I knew that many more could hear her reading the story other than those of us who sat in the room. And that all of us each had our own copy of the book. These people were located in rooms surrounding ours going on for I don't know how far.
She stopped and smiled at me. I knew it was my turn, my first time perhaps, to read aloud. I may have exchanged words with her, the person to my left, and an elderly woman to my right that was sitting unseen behind a tall wooden bookcase that stuck out from the wall behind my chair.

I looked down and began to read. At first I only read what I saw, but then I saw spaces opening up between the lines of text and my voice began to read what was in the spaces. at first I tried to fight it but then I realized that it gave more meaning to the story. I knew everyone could hear me speaking. Then a large gap appeared between a couple of lines and I knew a song was there. Going with that feeling,I began to sing in my voice. Then my voice - this was all coming from my stomach through my throat and out of my mouth - became richer, fuller... A gigantic sound that became more than one voice and tone. All this, still coming from just me, and that blank space. I was singing a chorus of vocal parts - soprano to bass. When the bass started I was startled but I felt approval from The Others seated around me, above, below, and boyond as well. I could hear myself directly as well as how each of the others heard me. It was astoundingly beautiful, it was me.

I awoke feeling full of peace, relaxed and refreshed.. bouyant.

I also felt very connected to my recently passed grandmother and I was reminded of The Lovely Bones and What Dreams May Come. I wonder if my grandfather knew how to play the guitar?
semiotic_pirate: (spock & kirk)
Waking to:


Read more... )

I think I know what it all means but what do you think?


semiotic_pirate: (Default)

April 2017

2 345 6 7 8


RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 23rd, 2017 11:09 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios