Dreamed I was off in some little town someplace to go to gun school. I was staying in what was a great big hotel for such a little town; one of those huge do-jobbies like you see in major downtowns, with cavernous atria to make acrophobes gibber. Looking back, I think the model was the Waverly in Marietta.
Anyhow, global village idiot was there, and ToddG, and a bunch of other people my subconscious apparently felt it would be appropriate to stock a dream about gun school with. ("And you were there, too, Auntie Em!")
The hotel rooms were weird, in that they came with only a bed, and so I went out after the first day of class and went to a flea market and bought some dressers and hutches and stuff and I wound up sitting there in the hotel room after the last day of class wondering what I was going to do with all this furniture. I decided I'd deal with it in the morning.
There was a teeny grocery store in the town, nominally a Fresh Market but crammed into a bitty, bodega-size storefront. I was in there at the florist's kiosk trying to buy some flowers for my mom, and there were these two little birds that had gotten in there, hopping around on the floor behind the counter (the storefront was open to the street during the day.) They looked like weird little chibi cardinals and I started talking baby talk at them "Ooh, wook at the widdwe biwdie!" and they leaped into the air and started making attack runs at my head. "Oh, don't bob your head at them and talk in a high-pitched voice," said the young girl putting my bouquet together, "They interpret that as a threat display and a challenge."
And then I woke up.
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19 comments:
Wow. So coherent, yet so batshit crazy.
I drove somebody to a bike race in a town I don't like. It was all torn
up with construction so we couldn't even find the registration area.
Did see a nice walking stick in an
antique joint that we stopped at out of frustration. Maple with some other wood at the top. Very slim, like something out of "The Walking Stick
Method Of Self-Defence."
Others have been stranger...
What, just when they were about to go Tippi Hedren on you? That's no fun.
You have better dreams that I do.
I just thought my dreams were strange.
Downright mundane compared to yours, Tam.
Oh, Tam, you just want to smoke pot.
Just thank God you don't have the one where you have learned to play the accordion.
Birds can most definitely do that. Still, all in all, a strange dream.
Wondering about the house furniture, contemplating relocating again? Not that we would be the first to know such and OPSEC answer.
Tippi Hedren? Just so they don't go Suzanne Pleshette on you. That would definitely be a bad thing.
Most of the birdcalls, though are territorial warnings, so once again, bizarre dream with factual underpinnings. Your subconscious is a sort of Salvador Dalli of slumber.
There was a tree in the little break area of the building where I worked during my last tour downrange (Balad AB, which is hard against the Tigris and gets about as green as anywhere in Iraq can get). It had a family of finches in it, which constantly got bullied by a different family of birds who had tufted heads like cardinals but weren't red.
It was there I learned that most of the bird language is cuss words.
Glad I was "there" to help pass the time.
gvi
You mean you didn't get to the part where you pulled out your Taurus Judge and blew them out of the air?
Last night mine involved looking at myself in the mirror (supposedly a very rare thing in dreams) and seeing that my hair reached my waist. Said to myself "Hmm, looks like it's time for a trip to the barber!"
Later, I was going to a friends house for a visit, driving at night using NVG's. I get out and a family of jaguars is passing through his yard, and they think I'm trying to steal one of the cubs and surround me. All I had to keep them at bay was a pointy stick.
Charles;
Pot isn't in it. This is LSD stuff.
M
Tam,
I'd say you are suffering from gun school withdrawal. Take two magazines full and call me in the morning!
Last time I had a dream like that I'd forgotten to take off a nicotine patch before I'd gone to bed. If I'd bothered to read the instructions I'd have known about the "may produce vivid dreams" side effect, which is in my humble opinion a massive understatement. More like what hippies wished tripping was like.
Based on your past experience, you would want room service in that hotel to provide you with a metal working file and various fine grits of sandpaper to debur and polish gun parts.
Just don't ever list that dream on an BATFEieio Form 4476.
Jim
Sunk New Dawn
Galveston, TX
Mine from last night involved the Simon & Garfunkel song 'Bridge Over Troubled Water', beginning with the powerful swell in music and the lines 'Sail on, silver bird...'
I was (working on) hammering a horseshoe nail into the leg of an antique coffee table with a 3 lb sledge hammer at the time.
It was just the one scene, and lasted maybe half the length of the verse. I HATE that song, yet there it was...in my dream.
Again, what the hell do you eat prior to going to bed?
Mike
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