Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Some neat dreaming he past couple days, but unfortunately I lost so much of the one yesterday that I didn't even bother sharing it and I lost a lot of today's. That said...
I don't even know what my brain was using for the basis of the location, but basically I was in the upper floor of a kind of log cabin. The floor had mostly fallen away and was unsafe so I was going to have to fix it right this time. I was trying to decide if I should lay the boards across which (for some dream reason) would be stronger or lengthwise, which would look nicer (and be stronger in reality). Meanwhile my cat, my dog, and a puppy version of my dog (no, not a puppy that looks like my dog, somehow my dog and its younger self) are farting around, trying to get my attention.
The failing repairs thing is a recurring element and I think part of it is because that's just how life is. "Things fall apart..." Since I do a lot of my own repairs and even monitor the things I don't repair myself, worrying about repairing things and repairing repairs is often on my mind. Part of this dream may have come from the van I'm working on. Rocker panels are pretty badly rusted and I've spent a lot of my free time the past several months filling, sanding, and smoothing fiberglass and Bondo. The day I thought I was done, I noticed a long crack in the repair and as I was fixing that I pushed my thumb through a soft spot and gouged a 3" hole. At that point I slapped the patching compound on think and didn't worry that much about how it looked. Strong wins out over pretty. Both is ideal, but if you have to choose...
I don't even know what my brain was using for the basis of the location, but basically I was in the upper floor of a kind of log cabin. The floor had mostly fallen away and was unsafe so I was going to have to fix it right this time. I was trying to decide if I should lay the boards across which (for some dream reason) would be stronger or lengthwise, which would look nicer (and be stronger in reality). Meanwhile my cat, my dog, and a puppy version of my dog (no, not a puppy that looks like my dog, somehow my dog and its younger self) are farting around, trying to get my attention.
The failing repairs thing is a recurring element and I think part of it is because that's just how life is. "Things fall apart..." Since I do a lot of my own repairs and even monitor the things I don't repair myself, worrying about repairing things and repairing repairs is often on my mind. Part of this dream may have come from the van I'm working on. Rocker panels are pretty badly rusted and I've spent a lot of my free time the past several months filling, sanding, and smoothing fiberglass and Bondo. The day I thought I was done, I noticed a long crack in the repair and as I was fixing that I pushed my thumb through a soft spot and gouged a 3" hole. At that point I slapped the patching compound on think and didn't worry that much about how it looked. Strong wins out over pretty. Both is ideal, but if you have to choose...
CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Sex dream about Michelle Trachtenberg.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Oh, and the reason the pets were in the dream is because The Dog woke me up around 7. I thought because she wanted to go out, but apparently because she needed me to watch her eat. So I fed The Cat and went to the bathroom and laid down with my robe on until she wanted to go out for reals. And then I had to get up in a half hour to let her back in.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Tonigh--this morning was more like watching a TV show or something than dreaming. We start out with basketball sports coverage. It seemed like NBA but maybe it was NCAA. Anyway, the announcers are talking about the different games and the highlights before we leave the broadcast to pan in on a basketball team that, for some reason, is staying in a farmhouse instead of a hotel. They're getting ready to head out, so they all fill up on Captain Crunch. But there isn't a lot of cereal, so after they finish that off, they help themselves to an assortment of candy bars. As they're getting ready to leave, the little boy who lives there grabs one of those plastic Jack O' Lantern Halloween baskets and runs after them, asking "Trick or treat?" Apparently the family that owns the farm is poor and the basketball team took everything they have to eat. They feel bad for that, so next thing we know, we see the team, in their station wagon with the kid, at the drive thru for KFC, where the friendly and knowledgeable employee tells them about KFC's new breakfast menu.
Then we segue to Hooter's/Outback Steakhouse/Generic big franchise sports bar and grille. I'm there at a table with a few friends and we're talking about what we want to be when we grow up. Someone points at a big table aways over and says "That guy." And apparently, that guy had decided to be 2. I mean, he's in his late 40s, but smiling and in shape and the kind of guy you'd like to hang out with and he's surrounded by friends and he's got a big birthday cake in front of him, celebrating his 2nd birthday--no worries, no cares, you can't be reasoned with. No one's upset if you shit yourself and you might get to breastfeed even still. I dunno. At any rate, he's having a blast so pretty much ever miserable wage slave guy in the place gives him a standing ovation. In response, he leads us all in a rousing rendition of "The Ballad of the Green Berets." We don't entirely remember the lyrics, but that's OK. Only then I kind of remember the last verse--which is about the Green Beret being killed in combat and telling his young widow to raise his son to be a Green Beret. But I can't remember really how the lyrics go, so instead of being kind of inspiring, it just pretty much kills the mood in the whole place.
And if KFC doesn't have a breakfast menu, they damn well should.
Then we segue to Hooter's/Outback Steakhouse/Generic big franchise sports bar and grille. I'm there at a table with a few friends and we're talking about what we want to be when we grow up. Someone points at a big table aways over and says "That guy." And apparently, that guy had decided to be 2. I mean, he's in his late 40s, but smiling and in shape and the kind of guy you'd like to hang out with and he's surrounded by friends and he's got a big birthday cake in front of him, celebrating his 2nd birthday--no worries, no cares, you can't be reasoned with. No one's upset if you shit yourself and you might get to breastfeed even still. I dunno. At any rate, he's having a blast so pretty much ever miserable wage slave guy in the place gives him a standing ovation. In response, he leads us all in a rousing rendition of "The Ballad of the Green Berets." We don't entirely remember the lyrics, but that's OK. Only then I kind of remember the last verse--which is about the Green Beret being killed in combat and telling his young widow to raise his son to be a Green Beret. But I can't remember really how the lyrics go, so instead of being kind of inspiring, it just pretty much kills the mood in the whole place.
And if KFC doesn't have a breakfast menu, they damn well should.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Interesting dreams this morning, unfortunately I've forgotten most of them or don't feel like trying to reconstruct them, but there was one bit that I remembered that nicely sums up the general feel: I'm in some big convention center complex thing, backstage, and need to make it from one end of the building to a movie theater on the other end. Unfortunately there's some kind of conference/awards show going on in the theater between and there is apparently no backstage crossover. I could just run across the stage but this seems wrong, so I wind up having to find my way all the way out to the lobby and around. Anyway, I eventually make it to the movie theater, where they're showing some horror movie. The villain/monster is called "Butcher Bitch" and her Freddy Krueger "hook" (no pun intended) is that she has a newborn calf for a leg. How that works, I don't know, you'll have to ask my subconscious.
That said, this made me realize dreaming is kind of like your brain doing improv--your subconscious throws something out and then leaves your conscious mind to interpret it and try to make sense of it. The narrative was that I was going to a movie. Then it was a horror movie. So we used a kind of John Carpenter's "The Thing"/FX from "Total Recall" look, mixed with the cinematography of "The Blair Witch Project." I don't know if the name came first or the odd body part--whether it was "She's got a cow for a leg--Butcher Bitch!" or "And her name is Butcher Bitch--because SHE'S GOT A COW FOR A LEG!" But one part of my brain threw it to the other part, the other part did its thing and threw it back. Trippy.
That said, this made me realize dreaming is kind of like your brain doing improv--your subconscious throws something out and then leaves your conscious mind to interpret it and try to make sense of it. The narrative was that I was going to a movie. Then it was a horror movie. So we used a kind of John Carpenter's "The Thing"/FX from "Total Recall" look, mixed with the cinematography of "The Blair Witch Project." I don't know if the name came first or the odd body part--whether it was "She's got a cow for a leg--Butcher Bitch!" or "And her name is Butcher Bitch--because SHE'S GOT A COW FOR A LEG!" But one part of my brain threw it to the other part, the other part did its thing and threw it back. Trippy.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Wow. Fairly involved, coherent one that I remember a lot of. I'll try to get the flow right: So Authorities are looking for some artifact or person--I think artifact--that I find. It needs to be bustled off to the Secret HQ. Obviously I don't have a proper access badge, but "security" consists of one of those big mechanical revolving doors like the PDX airport has. It only operates if you have a badge, so I just jump in behind one of the guys going in to report. I think the initial entry had kind of the feel of a newsroom or possibly a reactor control room in a 20th century movie--lots of grey machines with lights and gauges and people in office clothes. They all look up at me as I come in but I explain that it's OK because I used to work there (and apparently I *did* because...dreams). From there the place changes into more of a Men In Black/Kingsmen vibe--hip, stylish--actually, the first room is very Men In Black, now that I think about it, but now we've got paneled bookcases and a fireplace etc. All the agents are in their mid 20s and very hot. A bunch of the guys are looking out a huge picture window at, like, the Swedish Bikini Team, frolicking on a lawn(?) in various degrees of undress. Or maybe not the Swedish Bikini Team, more like a 50s sex symbol--like Marylin in her prime--paler and with shorter, bigger hair. Anyway, there's like a porno on the TV on the other wall and some of the girl agents are acting sexy to teas the guys (I dunno, maybe it's the Playboy Mansion at this point).
Next I'm in the cafeteria and some lunch lady/contractor/functionary approaches me. She's obviously not one of the agents because she's, like, in her 60s. Anyway, there having a party at the club across the street and they need male strippers for it and want to know if I'd like to go. I worry that, being so close by (and obviously related to the place, since she's in the building talking to me) word will get back and damage my reputation/promotion opportunities (again, dream logic). So she goes and tells this hot girl at another table that was modeled on a girl I tried dating but there wasn't any real chemistry--long story. They're both looking at me as they're talking so obviously Hot Agent Girl was the person arranging the event. As they're talking, I'm trying to get their attention and let them know I'll do it but winks and nods don't seem to be having effect so I head over to her table after the Lunch Lady is gone and tell her I want to do the gig. She says "great" and I say (thinking about all the sexy girls from the previous scene) that I'm just doing my bit for feminism and equality (or something like that). This doesn't get the laugh I'd hoped for and she just looks at me like she doesn't get the joke so I just extract myself as quickly as I can.
Later, at the office, I'm operating some assembly of electronic equipment, back in the first entryway room, and some guys cart in the "Hurricane Machine" to set up for entertainment. While everyone else is looking forward to the fun, I'm realizing what the winds and other effects will do to my gear so I'm unobtrusively shutting everything down, boxing it up, and getting it stowed so it won't be damaged. Mission accomplished, I grab a chair to watch the mayhem with all the other equipment in the room and all the other people having to scramble to put it all away. One of the cute Agents is standing behind my chair and there *is* chemistry with her (now that I think about it, this girl may have been modeled on a girl I worked with decades ago, when I was a night janitor and we'd get locked into a theater at midnight to get everything clean from the performance that night before the alarms were disarmed and the staff would come in in the morning. Unfortunately, she was dating a guy who worked in the museum next door (that isn't part of the dream, that actually happened). Anyway, she's standing behind me and there's a vibe between us. The Hurricane Machine is really starting to wind up and either she has to get close to me because of all the wind noise or she wants to tell me something without anyone else hearing. I take advantage of that to pretend I can't hear her so she gets closer and just as she does, I move my head so her lips graze my ear and make a move with my mouth. Her mouth is out of reach but she reads the actions and kisses my ear and neck.
And, because I can't have nice things, that's when I wake up.
Next I'm in the cafeteria and some lunch lady/contractor/functionary approaches me. She's obviously not one of the agents because she's, like, in her 60s. Anyway, there having a party at the club across the street and they need male strippers for it and want to know if I'd like to go. I worry that, being so close by (and obviously related to the place, since she's in the building talking to me) word will get back and damage my reputation/promotion opportunities (again, dream logic). So she goes and tells this hot girl at another table that was modeled on a girl I tried dating but there wasn't any real chemistry--long story. They're both looking at me as they're talking so obviously Hot Agent Girl was the person arranging the event. As they're talking, I'm trying to get their attention and let them know I'll do it but winks and nods don't seem to be having effect so I head over to her table after the Lunch Lady is gone and tell her I want to do the gig. She says "great" and I say (thinking about all the sexy girls from the previous scene) that I'm just doing my bit for feminism and equality (or something like that). This doesn't get the laugh I'd hoped for and she just looks at me like she doesn't get the joke so I just extract myself as quickly as I can.
Later, at the office, I'm operating some assembly of electronic equipment, back in the first entryway room, and some guys cart in the "Hurricane Machine" to set up for entertainment. While everyone else is looking forward to the fun, I'm realizing what the winds and other effects will do to my gear so I'm unobtrusively shutting everything down, boxing it up, and getting it stowed so it won't be damaged. Mission accomplished, I grab a chair to watch the mayhem with all the other equipment in the room and all the other people having to scramble to put it all away. One of the cute Agents is standing behind my chair and there *is* chemistry with her (now that I think about it, this girl may have been modeled on a girl I worked with decades ago, when I was a night janitor and we'd get locked into a theater at midnight to get everything clean from the performance that night before the alarms were disarmed and the staff would come in in the morning. Unfortunately, she was dating a guy who worked in the museum next door (that isn't part of the dream, that actually happened). Anyway, she's standing behind me and there's a vibe between us. The Hurricane Machine is really starting to wind up and either she has to get close to me because of all the wind noise or she wants to tell me something without anyone else hearing. I take advantage of that to pretend I can't hear her so she gets closer and just as she does, I move my head so her lips graze my ear and make a move with my mouth. Her mouth is out of reach but she reads the actions and kisses my ear and neck.
And, because I can't have nice things, that's when I wake up.
The Question
Eternal
Only remember just a snip of one from last night. I'm having one of those flying dreams, but it went sideways on me because the air kept getting thicker and thicker. Toward the end I realize that it's not even air anymore, and I'm not flying -- it has become mashed potatoes and I'm swimming/digging my way through it.
CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
I hate those kind of dreams where I can tell something's not quite right but I want them to be real so I try to argue with myself that the person is still alive and what really happened was the dream.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Had some kind of sexy dream, early in the evening but I don't remember any of the details. Truth be told, I was a little sad about it because it was so cliched that I figured if I posted it here, people would think I made it up (and I guess, technically, I did). A moot point, since I forgot the whole thing. Then this morning I had one where, for some reason, I had to stay in touch with the USMC reserves. I was happy at some point because I stopped by and the office was dark and empty and I realized they must be on their [whatever reason my subconscious made] so I'd be free for a few days. But then, as I was going by the airport/bus depot/whatever, I ran into the recruits that were heading out for training. I went over to shake their hands, wish them well, and give them some advice, but I realized 2 out of 3 were prior service enlisted that I'd worked with in the past, so they really didn't need my advice.
But they did wind up needing my help because some mishap prevented them from making their flight so I said I'd take them in the Quinjet. But then we had to stop to fight some super-powered giant. I was going to delay the villain while they got ready and since I was able to steal super powers like Rogue, I would be able to fight on equal footing. But then I remembered I had to touch the guy first, so I'd have to rely on my slightly greater than average strength and my agility (a la Beast).
I don't know where these secret organization dreams are coming from. Some kind of Walter Mitty midlife crisis thing my subconscious is trying to work out?
But they did wind up needing my help because some mishap prevented them from making their flight so I said I'd take them in the Quinjet. But then we had to stop to fight some super-powered giant. I was going to delay the villain while they got ready and since I was able to steal super powers like Rogue, I would be able to fight on equal footing. But then I remembered I had to touch the guy first, so I'd have to rely on my slightly greater than average strength and my agility (a la Beast).
I don't know where these secret organization dreams are coming from. Some kind of Walter Mitty midlife crisis thing my subconscious is trying to work out?
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
I have been having dreams, of late, but for a few days they were so strange and disturbing I wasn't willing to share them here--which is something, given some of the ones I've shared. And the past couple days I had ones that, at the time, were wildly entertaining to me, but upon thinking about them, they were kind of "you had to be there."
To wit, yesterday was one where...you know how, in elementary school, they bring in these performers to put on a show about brushing your teeth or take you on field trips to the science museum? In my dream, this elementary class was on some kind of river-walk retaining wall/sidewalk thing, watching a performance about how you shouldn't look directly at the sun. Ironically, during the show the performer dressed up as The Sun had to catch something and was temporarily blinded by the sun and fell through an open access hatch into the river and was immediately washed away. The teacher quickly and quietly closed the hatch but one kid did see what happened, so there was nothing to do except replace that kids arms, legs, and face so he couldn't be identified.
Last night I was in the military again and me and a couple others were in the middle of some big parade deck/square where there were lots of foreign military types. Now it's hard enough to see rank insignia from far away when you know what the insignia mean, but when you add in foreign uniforms, it's a real pain in the ass to tell what rank people are. When you're a 23 year old 2nd Lieutenant, you can be excused for accidentally saluting a Navy Chief (they have a silver and gold insignia that is about the size of a Major/LtCol "oak leaf") and generally anyone with anything shiny on their collar outranks you--especially if they look to be older than 30. But when you're a 49 year old major, you outrank a fair number of people--and there's a pressure to look competent and less tolerance for mistakes.
So this woman walks past. About my age, foreign uniform. Just far enough away that it's hard to see rank. She doesn't see us but one of the guys salutes her. So I start to salute but the other guy says..."It's okay, she's new here"(?) so I stop halfway. Next thing you know, this British(?) officer in some odd uniform with a dressing gown(?) with rank insignia on it stomps over--think tall Graham Chapman in his prime, doing a Boer War guy with a big handlebar moustache--and dresses us down for not saluting her. He proceeds to bring us to the poetry reading/interpretation group she was on the way to and makes us stand there and wait until it is done to publicly apologize. It's interminable. Some girl with laryngitis is trying to read a poem in a foreign language, etc. Eventually someone notices us and asks what we're doing there. Brigadier Chapman comes up with some outrageous offense he claims we committed and I say "That's not true." He starts to interrupt but I hold up my hand at him and say "I've got the floor." I proceed to explain what *really* and the misunderstanding involved and end with "The floor is yours," but he's too annoyed to say anything else. And apparently he's a bit of a tyrant because everyone is quite amused by me--including Mary Steenburgen-looking female officer.
To wit, yesterday was one where...you know how, in elementary school, they bring in these performers to put on a show about brushing your teeth or take you on field trips to the science museum? In my dream, this elementary class was on some kind of river-walk retaining wall/sidewalk thing, watching a performance about how you shouldn't look directly at the sun. Ironically, during the show the performer dressed up as The Sun had to catch something and was temporarily blinded by the sun and fell through an open access hatch into the river and was immediately washed away. The teacher quickly and quietly closed the hatch but one kid did see what happened, so there was nothing to do except replace that kids arms, legs, and face so he couldn't be identified.
Last night I was in the military again and me and a couple others were in the middle of some big parade deck/square where there were lots of foreign military types. Now it's hard enough to see rank insignia from far away when you know what the insignia mean, but when you add in foreign uniforms, it's a real pain in the ass to tell what rank people are. When you're a 23 year old 2nd Lieutenant, you can be excused for accidentally saluting a Navy Chief (they have a silver and gold insignia that is about the size of a Major/LtCol "oak leaf") and generally anyone with anything shiny on their collar outranks you--especially if they look to be older than 30. But when you're a 49 year old major, you outrank a fair number of people--and there's a pressure to look competent and less tolerance for mistakes.
So this woman walks past. About my age, foreign uniform. Just far enough away that it's hard to see rank. She doesn't see us but one of the guys salutes her. So I start to salute but the other guy says..."It's okay, she's new here"(?) so I stop halfway. Next thing you know, this British(?) officer in some odd uniform with a dressing gown(?) with rank insignia on it stomps over--think tall Graham Chapman in his prime, doing a Boer War guy with a big handlebar moustache--and dresses us down for not saluting her. He proceeds to bring us to the poetry reading/interpretation group she was on the way to and makes us stand there and wait until it is done to publicly apologize. It's interminable. Some girl with laryngitis is trying to read a poem in a foreign language, etc. Eventually someone notices us and asks what we're doing there. Brigadier Chapman comes up with some outrageous offense he claims we committed and I say "That's not true." He starts to interrupt but I hold up my hand at him and say "I've got the floor." I proceed to explain what *really* and the misunderstanding involved and end with "The floor is yours," but he's too annoyed to say anything else. And apparently he's a bit of a tyrant because everyone is quite amused by me--including Mary Steenburgen-looking female officer.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
And we're back to less disturbing, more entertaining dreams. I've been noticing a theme lately, that I'm some kind of secret agent or something in a lot of these dreams. Tonight's trifecta started with something that was basically "Firefly" only with more of a "Star Wars" universe. Me and the team I was with were setting up some kind of elaborate scam or takedown and everyone was getting in position to set it off.
That somehow transitioned to me being in hiding with "Rambo" (the one from the early 2000s) era Sylvester Stallone and maybe one other person. The...whoever...authorities? Mob? I dunno, had tracked us down and Stallone was getting ready to put on a disguise to bluff our way past them. I wanted him to put on his Heisenberg outfit, but he said he wouldn't do that again (and how I got Stallone interposed with the actor from "Breaking Bad" is beyond me), but he put on some crazy old man Fu Manchu facial hair and acted like he thought the police were breaking into his house and we got out of their way while they searched the place--although at the time I didn't get how the Bad Guys didn't spot him because of his gun. All the time he'd been waving around this big revolver with a barrel like the bar of a chainsaw and he was using that with his disguise. Seemed like a dead-givaway.
Shit. Now I forget the third phase. The Stallone bit was actually pretty boring. The last bit was much better, but now I lost that while typing things up. But again, the same basic motif--I'm some kind of spy or part of a special organization.
...and after typing so many of these up, I'm thinking my dreams are my subconscious telling me that I never execute. I have good plans, but I never actually do anything. In the first dream, it was all setup. In sex dreams, I never get to have the actual sex. In dreams with guns, the gun never works (although I think that's more about fear of failure). I wonder if my subconscious wishes I took bolder chances.
That somehow transitioned to me being in hiding with "Rambo" (the one from the early 2000s) era Sylvester Stallone and maybe one other person. The...whoever...authorities? Mob? I dunno, had tracked us down and Stallone was getting ready to put on a disguise to bluff our way past them. I wanted him to put on his Heisenberg outfit, but he said he wouldn't do that again (and how I got Stallone interposed with the actor from "Breaking Bad" is beyond me), but he put on some crazy old man Fu Manchu facial hair and acted like he thought the police were breaking into his house and we got out of their way while they searched the place--although at the time I didn't get how the Bad Guys didn't spot him because of his gun. All the time he'd been waving around this big revolver with a barrel like the bar of a chainsaw and he was using that with his disguise. Seemed like a dead-givaway.
Shit. Now I forget the third phase. The Stallone bit was actually pretty boring. The last bit was much better, but now I lost that while typing things up. But again, the same basic motif--I'm some kind of spy or part of a special organization.
...and after typing so many of these up, I'm thinking my dreams are my subconscious telling me that I never execute. I have good plans, but I never actually do anything. In the first dream, it was all setup. In sex dreams, I never get to have the actual sex. In dreams with guns, the gun never works (although I think that's more about fear of failure). I wonder if my subconscious wishes I took bolder chances.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Interestingly, I am no longer remembering my dreams. I'm still dreaming them. I'm even remembering having them. And if I wake up in the middle of the night, I remember them for a bit. But in the morning all I can remember is that I had a dream and if I try to recall it, it just goes away even faster.
Mirah
I love you
Just read your dream about the military above. I was wondering if you were reading or watching anything political before you went to bed. Have you noticed if that makes a difference in your dreams?
Sometimes I might dream of the last person whose face I saw on FB. Kind of odd.
I wish I was remembering my dreams lately too. I have found them rather pleasant and wish I could sleep much longer and dream away my day.
Sometimes I might dream of the last person whose face I saw on FB. Kind of odd.
I wish I was remembering my dreams lately too. I have found them rather pleasant and wish I could sleep much longer and dream away my day.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
I think the military dreams--as well as most of my other recent dreams--are a result of my current job. The corporate culture where I'm at is very similar to the Marine Corps. As is the management structure--the work is done by mostly teenage men and women with a dozen or so managed by a person in their early 20s and a handful of them managed by a person in their mid to late 20s. The secret agent type dreams come from that, previously I was basically given free rein to do and be wherever I needed to be as long as I was getting good results for the company and I was free of all the paperwork my peers had to do. Eventually that went away and now I'm stuck doing paperwork and being managed and, ironically, we're doing much less well at the things I'm accountable for than when I was able to freelance like J.E.B. Stuart and his cavalry.
Anyway, it's more entertaining and exotic for my subconscious to use the military as a metaphor than to just have dreams about work--for now. I have had work dreams in the past. But so far not for this job.
Anyway, it's more entertaining and exotic for my subconscious to use the military as a metaphor than to just have dreams about work--for now. I have had work dreams in the past. But so far not for this job.
CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Had a dream the new Song of Ice and Fire book came out and it was full of new characters and was very confusing to read (so probably quite accurate to how it'll turn out.) Then while reading it I was also watching the events of it play out on the tv show and people on the internet were confused and I had to explain it to them.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
I actually remembered one tonight. Although it wasn't a particularly memorable dream. But I'll post it in the hope that this will get me back to remembering them.
Dreamed about work. At the start and end of the day we'll wind up congregating in the office and BS'ing a bit while filing paperwork. In the dream it turned out someone had worked with me on my old-old job, when I was doing supermarket resets (although that was in Oregon and I'm in Kentucky now and most people I'm working with now are about 10 years younger than that). Somehow (S)he had things mixed up and remembered that *I'd* been in charge of our team. I corrected them and was telling the room what that job had been like--only I couldn't remember the names of *any* of the 3 companies that had done the contracting--including my own--much to the amusement of the other person.
Next thing you know, I'm in a supermarket with a team and we're doing a produce display or salad bar or something. There's about a dozen people all lined up along this island-style display, bucket-brigade loading produce into it (we'd never ever do a produce display on a supermarket reset--only packaged goods. Cheese, toothpaste, laundry detergent, etc.) And since the other person had thought I'd been the leader during this part I was doing my best to lead--all without stepping on the toes of the actual historical team lead from those days.
I think this may be my brain working on the balance of not being in charge but still trying to influence the rest of the team and fighting the temptation to undermine the boss (who I don't particularly like or respect). Interestingly, this is all happening on the tail end of 2 weeks of the boss being out for training and me actually liking and respecting the person who is filling in.
Dreamed about work. At the start and end of the day we'll wind up congregating in the office and BS'ing a bit while filing paperwork. In the dream it turned out someone had worked with me on my old-old job, when I was doing supermarket resets (although that was in Oregon and I'm in Kentucky now and most people I'm working with now are about 10 years younger than that). Somehow (S)he had things mixed up and remembered that *I'd* been in charge of our team. I corrected them and was telling the room what that job had been like--only I couldn't remember the names of *any* of the 3 companies that had done the contracting--including my own--much to the amusement of the other person.
Next thing you know, I'm in a supermarket with a team and we're doing a produce display or salad bar or something. There's about a dozen people all lined up along this island-style display, bucket-brigade loading produce into it (we'd never ever do a produce display on a supermarket reset--only packaged goods. Cheese, toothpaste, laundry detergent, etc.) And since the other person had thought I'd been the leader during this part I was doing my best to lead--all without stepping on the toes of the actual historical team lead from those days.
I think this may be my brain working on the balance of not being in charge but still trying to influence the rest of the team and fighting the temptation to undermine the boss (who I don't particularly like or respect). Interestingly, this is all happening on the tail end of 2 weeks of the boss being out for training and me actually liking and respecting the person who is filling in.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
Maybe getting my dream mojo back (or The Dog is getting better at waking me up at the right time to remember them again). Just a snippet, but a decent one. I'm on some kind of space station with art direction from 2000s space movies ("Interstellar," "Gravity," etc). Well there's...pods. Or mission capsules or something. You need one to go home from the space station. I think the pods may teleport instead of flying. Maybe they fly, but I think they take you back to wherever they came from. So if the mothership for the pod is at Mars, that pod will have to take you to Mars. Someone took someone else's pod so now there aren't enough or they won't go where people want to go.
This is probably just about there not being enough computers at work and certain people being dicks about using them.
This is probably just about there not being enough computers at work and certain people being dicks about using them.
Volpone
Zombie Hunter
I've been having dreams that have been fairly entertaining but not remembering them long enough to mention. Today I had one that I remembered that wasn't too bad. As usual, it was late in the morning--after letting the dog out and between the alarm and the snooze alarm. I mean it was entertaining but not that exciting. I was watching a TV show. It was, like a true-crime documentary on a National Geographic/Discovery-like channel about narcotics agents that were tipped off about a big shipment in a house that was about to get distributed out to dealers so they had to do a raid to get it all. Like those kind of shows, it was a mix of actual footage and reenactments and it was pretty cool. They had an undercover agent (or multiple ones) in the house and they were coordinating the raid, making sure the case would stand up in court, and stalling the bad guys until it was time to arrest them. There were sidebar bits about the whacky life of a drug lord (including pixelated nude sunbathing). Then, to get further meta, there were friends walking in while I was watching the show and asking me what it was about, what was going on, why the cops didn't just do X.
Like I said, having a dream about watching a TV show sounds kind of boring, but it was a fairly entertaining dream. Don't know if it meant anything or if it was just my brain amusing itself. At one point the agent threw clouds of cocaine/heroin/whatever powder up in the air and ran off to get the Bad Guys to chase him. Then he ran into this corridor that looked like the trophy case area outside a gym at an old small-town highschool, where the rest of the undercover agents were waiting to spring the trap but for some reason the Bad Guys stopped outside the hallway so the agent was crouched down face to face with the rest of the team (who were all dressed undercover) and was communicating with them in hand signals about what the next step would be.
Like I said, having a dream about watching a TV show sounds kind of boring, but it was a fairly entertaining dream. Don't know if it meant anything or if it was just my brain amusing itself. At one point the agent threw clouds of cocaine/heroin/whatever powder up in the air and ran off to get the Bad Guys to chase him. Then he ran into this corridor that looked like the trophy case area outside a gym at an old small-town highschool, where the rest of the undercover agents were waiting to spring the trap but for some reason the Bad Guys stopped outside the hallway so the agent was crouched down face to face with the rest of the team (who were all dressed undercover) and was communicating with them in hand signals about what the next step would be.