Dreams: By Tag: Lost

Friday, July 16, 2010: In Search of a Bus Stop

In search of a bus stop, he walked at night on a street in a strange city of low brick buildings, streetlights, and brightly lit shop interiors. Other people walked the streets, some entering and exiting the shops.

He walked into a building, climbing up and down many flights of stairs and through many corridors. He thought in general that he was moving below ground level. He entered a large room with a crowd gathered in a vague queue. He saw a concession stand with popcorn, a ticket booth, and a marquee. He realized it was a movie theater. He walked away in search of the bus stop.

He stood before a large platform open to daylight and a long descent to the ground. His father stood on the platform. A man made an announcement over a loudspeaker. His father shrugged and jumped to his death.

Friday, May 28, 2010: Calling for Ice Cream Delivery

He stood at a gas station. It was daylight. There were cars and people filling up their cars with gas.

He felt bewildered, not knowing where he was. He was talking on a cell phone to a woman. He was asking her about ice cream delivery. She asked him where he needed the ice cream delivered to. He looked around for street signs, but didn't see any. He asked others where he was, but they did not tell him.

Sunday, May 04, 2008: Masks, roads, and the chapel of everything

He stood with his wife on a pier before a vast sea. Above the sea hovered masks with different expressions. The masks wanted them to join with them. But together, they kept the masks at bay.

Later, they walked. They found themselves at crossroads going in all directions. It was night, but there was sufficient light from street lamps to see where they were going. His wife pointed and suggested a road. He turned to look at the road, and saw that it was steep, unpaved, and rough. He said that it was likely the road to take. And they began to climb the road.

They came upon a small chapel in the woods and entered. The interior was white and softly lit. They intuited that this chapel served no particular religion, denomination, path, way, world view or system of belief. A young scholarly woman served here. She stopped us from entering the next room, as a service was in progress. She let us know that if there was anything she could do for us, to let her know and she would help us.

Sunday, April 27, 2008: Hunter

He walked along ancient roads, through cities of long past, seeking out men and women whose passions and ambitions and the worship from others had crystallized in them something more than human. They had become gods, haunting cyclopean palace chambers; striding and strutting, demanding and destroying; beautiful, graceful, intellectual, powerful beyond human possession, and entirely mad.

He was nobody.

He saw through their wondrous and terrible mien, which flowed like fire and water and gold and sky. He broke through the spell that put men under their sway, and brought their reigns to an end.

He pursued one of them through darkness along a red path: a road, a river, a rivulet of molten earth. There was a break in the path. He leaped the gap towards his foe and landed in a stream. The stream cooled him and he broke the surface.

But his foe had eluded him. A stone fish lay on the shore of an unfamiliar sunlit villa. He walked into the villa, searching for a native to ask directions. Over a low wall, he saw a young woman. She wore a short red diaphanous dress. Her hair was red gold curls gathered up to bare her long slender neck. He approached her. There was nothing imperfect about her. She appeared to him coy but receptive. But he realized the great, great temptation she represented, and he woke himself up.

Sunday, April 06, 2008: Hands

I had a dream that I was sitting in a dimly lit room, perhaps lit by candle light behind me. All I could see in the room was an oval wooden kitchen table, like my parents had, and my son seated to my left.

I noticed my left hand in my dream. I reached out to touch my son on the right wrist. My hand grew indistinct and blurry. I pulled my hand away. We were both surprised by this.

I closed my eyes and held my hands up to my face. Slowly, I could see my hands with an inner sense. I could hear my son remark that my hands had disappeared. I opened my eyes.

Again, I reached out for the right wrist of my son with my left hand and closed my eyes. I could see my left hand with an inner sense, and feel his right wrist. I slowly moved my hand up his arm, but suddenly I lost touch with him. I felt around but could find nothing. My fingers brushed against strange shapes, and I began to feel afraid. I made myself wake up.

I had the distinct impression from the dream that I should not try to do things for which I am not prepared.

Saturday, April 05, 2008: Lost while driving in a box with my brother

I had a dream that I was driving down a road at night. I was driving in a rectangular black plastic bucket (we use them for trash receptacles). I do not know how I was steering or accelerating or braking, but I drove it somehow. My brother was on the passenger side. Once, he stood up to look over the side, and I told him to move his big rear end out of the way; he was blocking my view of the road. We were lost, so we decided to pull over to ask for directions.

Finally, without bucket or brother, dawn rose, and I found myself walking on the side of a familiar road, not too far from home. There was a bucket of food in the gutter. I was hungry and they were all wrapped in plastic. It did not seem like trash to me, rather, it seemed like somebody knew I would be stopping by that part of the road and left supplies for me along the way.

Monday, March 17, 2008: Lost

I dreamed that I was walking down a street at night in a strange city. I had two companions, but we separated, and each got into their own cars and left. I walked down the street and turned left. I realized I did not know where I was going, and I turned to walk back to where I started.

Sunday, February 03, 2008: Dorm

I had a dream that I was living in a dorm in a high-rise building. The dorm had three bedrooms and three bathrooms and no windows. In order to enter and exit the floor our doom was on, I had to ascend or descend many escalators that passed through a department store.

One of my roommates reminded me of a French Pee-Wee Herman. He had a large collection of stuffed animals.

We were hanging around in the dorm lounge. Michael Jackson was there. He said not to get him started on his nose.

Between our high-rise and the city was a large wilderness area. A student guide showed us (my wife and I) through the wilderness once. But when we were returning without our guide, we got lost. We waded through high brush until I spied a road.

I was sitting in on a SNL episode. Mitt Romney was performing a song while playing guitar. But he could neither sing nor play guitar. He covered this up by feigning that he was retuning the guitar. I tried to help by playing some chords on my guitar. But Mitt Romney and the host shifted the blame to me and kicked me off the set.

Finally, I dreamed about a porch with a tree growing up through it. Squirrels were building a nest in the branches, and bees were building a hive.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006: Pulling Teeth

Standing in the kitchen pantry of my house was Malcolm David Kelley of the television series Lost. He asked me to help him pull out all of his teeth, then push them back in. I told him I didn’t think it was a good idea. He insisted. I suggested that he begin by pulling a tooth that would not be noticed and replacing it. He pulled out a pair of pliers. Then I woke up.

Why do I keep dreaming of this kid? I haven’t even watched Lost since last season.

I stretched out on a large bed in the basement of my house.

I didn’t remember this dream until much later.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006: Kramer Annoyed

Kramer, from the television show Seinfeld, seemed annoyed with me. As I wandered around his apartment, observing the cornucopia of his bizarre acquisitions and inventions, another man entered the apartment, and annoyed him more. I took this as an opportunity to make amends, and made a positive comment about the blueprint hanging on the wall. Kramer’s attitude towards me immediately lightened. He said that he wanted to be an architect. The blueprint resembled a layout of my childhood home.

More Seinfeld dreams!

I had a repetitive data entry dream, where I was entering numerous elements of a dream taxonomy into my laptop.

When I engage in repetitive activities while awake, I often dream about them. This past week, I have been backfilling the database behind this site with past dreams, as well as tagging them appropriately.

During the night, as I started to wake up, I realized that I was waking up, and dreamed that my memories of my prior dreams were swallowed up in a black balloon, floating away from me into darkness as I flailed blindly after its tether.

Again, I am having difficulty with dream recall. I think I am trying too hard.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006: Apology

I was sitting in a dimly lit room. Seated with me was a male figure, I think a friend of mine, and another figure whose gender I cannot recall. We were sitting on the edges of a square area of sunken wooden floor. I apologized to the male figure, it seemed, as a demonstration of amicability to the other figure.

Sometimes, I wake with only a fleeting recollection of what I have dreamed while I slept. Several factors influence my dream recall: quantity and quality of sleep, gradual or sudden awakening, bright lights or distracting noises. Lying in bed a few extra minutes, when I have the luxury, benefits my recall, while immediately getting up to walk the dog in morning sunlight will cause me forget.

This amnesia distresses me, and in my distress, I search my thoughts for the memories that are lost somewhere in my head. These forced searches do not usually work. When I have relaxed, and I am no longer thinking about my forgetfulness, and my thoughts are wandering, I sometimes stumble across a thread that leads me back to my dream.

When I woke this morning, I could not remember my dream. Gradually, I recaptured small details, but most of the dream is still lost somewhere in my head.

Monday, October 18, 2004: Rivers of Coffee and Flying Bears

I followed one of my co-workers, Ray, around a busy factory floor. I felt concerned for him, as he has health problems in real life. We were trying to complete an agenda he had written out on his hand, but the task was overwhelming. We rode conveyor belts to move about the factory. Somehow, I lost him.

In another dream, I was in a sprawling apartment. The walls were painted white. There was clutter everywhere, mostly laundry. Downstairs, on the sidewalk outside of the building, police were inspecting a cargo container. It was strangely labeled. I don’t remember the exact wording, but it made the container seem safe, even though there were terrorists hiding inside the container. Upstairs, there was a party on a balcony. It was a bright day. Macaulay Culkin popped some kind of drug into my mouth... LSD? I didn’t notice anything unusual. I wondered when it would take effect. I walked into the apartment. I remember following a kid into a very messy room, cluttered with laundry, models, video games, etc.

The party and Macaulay Culkin are drawn from the movie Party Monster. The terrorists in the box... they’re probably from the presidential debate, where John Kerry has repeated over and over that the majority of containers coming into the United States ports are not inspected.

In another dream, I was outside, walking up my street, early in the morning, before the sun was up. I could hear a hair dryer whirring from from my neighbor’s house. I wondered, “Wow, that is a loud hairdryer, for me to hear it from outside.” I had a blanket wrapped around me. It was very cold. As I neared my fence, I suddenly sensed a large dog behind me. I wrapped the blanket around me tighter, and everything became darker.

I’m fairly certain somebody in my house was running a hair dryer in the morning, and I could hear it in my sleep.

In the final dream, I had crossed Hamilton Street. Suddenly, the street became a river of coffee. Across the river, a barn full of coffee beans sprung up, and a Starbucks-like building appeared at the top of the hill. The coffee smelled great, but I wondered how I would cross the river to go home. Somebody was with me... I’m not sure who. I told him, “They did this,” and pointed at two small brown bears with purple butterfly wings, hiding in the bushes. I caught one of the bears, and held it upside-down by its legs, demanding that he change the street back.

Maybe I’m craving coffee? The bears were drawn from real-life, where a couple days ago, my daughter had shown me a teddy bear she received at a party.

Sunday, August 01, 2004: Poetry Recital

I was invited to recite poetry before an audience. I was having trouble finding the location of the recital in the large hotel I was wandering in. I was running late. I wrote four short poems, only filling both sides of a single sheet of paper. I also had not realized how large an audience I was reading poetry for. And somebody was hurrying me.

I opened the auditorium doors. The auditorium was filled with people. I was reminded of the church I had attended; some of the audience members could have been church members I’ve known in the past. As I entered the auditorium, a man on stage announced me. As I reluctantly approached the stage, I realized that I was very thirsty. I asked the announcer to give me a moment. My wife was seated nearby. She gave me a water bottle, and with a giggle said, “Attention to detail.” The water bottle was empty, so I looked around for a water cooler. I spotted one in the far right back corner of the auditorium. I walked over to the cooler. It was filled with Kool-ade. I filled the bottle and headed toward the stage. I made myself wake up because I felt afraid.

I don’t remember the poems, except one had the name Carl Jung’s name in the title.

I recently started writing again. I’ve also been reading about dreams and dream theory, especially Jung.