Troubled Waters

Our basement was filled with ocean water, almost up to the ceiling. In the water was a whale. I was a little confused as to how the whale got into our basement ocean, but I still swam with it. We became buddies, and it was very nice. My Father had a boat. There was an emergency with my Mother, and we had to take the boat across the ocean/basement. The whale was swimming below us. My Father took out a giant metal mallet, because he didn't want the boat to go the wrong way. I was worried about the vibrations the sound would cause, but there wasn't anything else to be done. My Dad hit the side of the boat two times, and I could see the violent sound waves traveling through the water and hitting the whale. Then the boat bumped into the wall of the house, and it made a monstrous noise. But the boat started moving - the whale tried to keep up, but its head hurt. Later, Dad hit the boat again because it was going crooked, and yet the boat still ran into the wall, and made the noise again. The whale started crying, and I dove into the water.

In the water, it was clear but dark, like a pool at night - only a pale illumination lit the area. The whale couldn't move - it was dying. So I wrapped my arms around the side of the whale and pulled it towards the surface. We hit the surface, and the whale inhaled and we went back down. I was talking to the whale, but I don't remember what I was saying, except that I was begging it to be alright. I could feel its skin growing cold and clammy under my hands, and it stopped moving. I heaved it to the surface again, but it did not breathe. I was panicked, and refused to believe that it was dead. I reached the stairs of the basement, and I left the whale there, promising to come back in the morning.

The next day, I went down the stairs to find the water had been drained out. The floor was littered with bits of fat and whale pieces. I was shocked. My dad was vacuuming up the water, and told me to look for pieces of ambergris to sell. This I did - there was no point in letting things go to waste. I was still sad, but there was a practicality settling in.

* I woke up at this point - approximately 430 am - really sad and a little frightened. My phone had just messaged me spam about the new iphone. I forced myself to sleep again*

*******

I was in the Netherlands? Or Norway - maybe Iceland. A place where there was a sardine harvest. There was this quaint little town on the sea, where the sky was grey and everyone wore coats. The harvest was terrible - there were only a couple of dozen tiny sardines on the shelves. People were very worried, and wondered where all the sardines were. I found two and bought them, taking them back to the family I was staying with. My brother came to visit this family, as did J. and the two of them had a potato sack race. I ate a sardine - and it did not taste like a sardine, but a little bit like a savory peanut butter and jelly sandwich?

Along the town was a short cliff face. I found a cave there, and crawled inside. It was more like a cavern. There was a man who swam up to the cave entrance, carrying a mandolin. He started to sing, stopped, and left his mandolin on the rocks. There were other people who came to look into the cave, except they were walking because it was low tide. There were shells in the cave, and I looked to take one, except they all had hermit crabs in them and I didn't want to kill anything. The cave was part of a legend about a mermaid who helped the town with the sardine harvest, except no one knew where she had gone to. The storm returned, and I was walking back through the streets in the wind...

Suddenly, I was back home. I was in a pool with D, and we were deep under water. He was smiling, but he didn't know he couldn't breathe. So I started kicking us to the surface, which seemed a long way away. D smiled and helped. The water got lighter and lighter and soon we were on the surface. I didn't know how I got there. I realized I had never said goodbye to my brother, or J, or my family. I didn't have my passport or my luggage.

So then I was reentering the country from before. I didn't know how I was going to go get in without my passport or anything. I followed the people from the train station to the turnstiles, and then to immigration. My Dad was with me. There was an old man at the turnstile, who smiled at me and welcomed me back. I asked him if I'd been here before. He said yes, about a week ago. I asked about my brother. The man said he had left. I asked about J. The man said he had left six days ago. He looked at my wallet briefly, then let me back in, smiling. There was a hotel, and I went running to find my things....


*****

I have had dreams of whales in the past - my dad's side of the family has a belief that our loved ones speak to us through whales. At least, I was told that my Great Grandmother appeared to people in dreams as a whale. And I accepted that belief while the whale images were positive. Which they've always been. This was the first time the whale died - I wonder what that symbolizes? And I was emotionally invested in keeping the whale alive.

Then that whole business with the sardine harvest and the sad fishermen and the happy family - I did have smelt for dinner. I wonder if that explains my nautical themed night.

Cats - then Tangiers?

All pieces of this dream are piecemeal:

I was on a grassy sort of area with some cats. I had twelve cats. Then, all of sudden, I had twenty-three cats - I think they were donated or abandoned at my house. I was nervous about accepting them, but I saw that two of the cats were beautiful. They were bigger than the rest, muscular and they were copper and white with burgundy stripes over their eyes. Umm...I think one of them could talk...he told me he was not neutered, and asked if that was a problem. I said no.

Then I noticed one of the cats was covered in tins - like flattened old tea tins. Even its head was covered in tins. I couldn't actually tell if there was a cat under there or if it was some sort of robot.

The scenery sort of shifted, and the grassy area turned into a grassy bank by a river. There were dolphins in the water.

Then the water grew bigger. It became something like a big river, and there were boats. I wanted to go to Aegina (A small island off the coast of Greece), but there were two people with me and they were very persuasive. One of them was a girl, one of them was a guy who was a celebrity (when I tried to figure out who it was - my brain kept saying Jonathan Rhys Meyers, except that wasn't who it was and I knew that wasn't who it was). They convinced me to spend all my money on a ferry ticket.

"But where are we going?" I asked.
"Tangiers!" The girl said, laughing. I had wanted to go to Aegina, but then I figured Tangiers could be fun. I almost missed the ferry, because I saw that my wallet had fallen into the mud. I forced them to stop so that I could pick it out of the water. There was something else in the water that I grabbed - but I can't remember what. There was a lot of conversing at this point in the dream - between myself and the man who worked the boat.

Then I was in an enclosed market space in Tangiers. There were beads hanging from all the shops. I loved it - and brushed my hands through golden beads. The shopkeepers were all very friendly and laughing and trying to get us to buy things, though I don't think I did. In the dream peripheral I sensed tension, like not everyone was happy I was there. And I could sort of see the desert in the distance outside the city...


****


Yeah - there was a lot of texture in this dream. The smoothness of the cat's fur, the feel of the water, the beads - it was a sensory dream. I wish I could remember who the celebrity was - in the dream I remember thinking that the only reason I was following him was because he was magnetic.

Owls and Cats

This is an old dream - I had it about a week and a half ago.

I was in a field. There was a barn/house to the side. It was evening, but not dark. There were owls in the sky. A slate grey owl landed on my arm, and stared at me for a long moment. Then it flew off. There were cats in the tall grass. There was a war on between these two armies. The cats would leap up at the owls who flew too close, the owls were trying to kill the cats.

I found one of my cats there, in the grass. She was the oldest of our cats at home, the matriarch. She had a horrible gash on her chest, and one on her side, but she was alive. She was stalking over to me, and I was worried for her. The battle continued.

I didn't pick a side - I was more upset at the owls I think, because I couldn't figure out why they were fighting with the cats. But then I wasn't always upset - at some point I was more annoyed, because the owls kept landing on me and hooting at me, like they were trying to talk to me.

Ninja training and swords

I was in a warehouse - the was a group of people and two teachers. It was giant warehouse. They were trying to teach us to fight. I don't remember most of it, but I do remember arriving sort of late and standing in a line while one of the instructors tried to teach us to do a forward roll and come up blocking. The first time, he said we should picture water, and roll like a river. He said to think of our loved ones and use that power to roll. So everyone tried it. For me, I imagined not having bones, and I found that I folded over and rolled up to my feet faster than everyone else. Fluid. I came to my feet with my hands in front of me, palms up and thumbs almost touching.

Our instructor told us to do it again, and this time he told us to think of fire. He told us to imagine all our anger, and those we hate, to think of burning and bloodshed and destroying our enemies. He said to roll forward and be ready to hurt someone. So we tried that - this was harder for me. I tried to imagine snapping forward, but I sort of stopped while sitting on the floor. The girl next to me had grabbed my arm for support, and as I tried to stand she stood with me. I didn't recognize her, but she was Asian and seemed younger than me.

The camera panned away from us training, and there were two men. One of them had a long silver whip, the other one had a long dagger and a katana. They were far away, but getting closer, fast. They could disappear and move only as the wind, but I knew they were coming to fight us. I was frightened. "I can see them - they're coming," I told the teachers, because they couldn't sense it. I could see them moving through the warehouse, over crates and in the awnings.

I don't remember if I was there for the fight, but I seem to recall that I was not, but I could see it happening from a sort of distance.

Then I was running - I had to find a child. I was in the dark, on a road. I had a flashlight that looked like a remote control. I couldn't figure out why there wasn't more light, then I realized that what I was looking for were headlights. Except I didn't have a car, only the flashlight. So I started running down the dark road. I came to train tracks with either an awning or a series of trees overhanging the tracks. Over-lacing those were thick strands of spider silk. I was too afraid to go through them, so I pulled down a stick and started pulling the web strands away. There were eggsacks on the strands, but very few spiders. I kept pulling, but there were so many strands. There weren't webs - these were as thick as pieces of yarn and straight from the top to the ground. I pushed through.

Then I was in a beautiful hotel - or maybe it was an apartment building. The walls were rich cherry wood and there were cream colored carpets and ornate lamps on the tables. I climbed the stairs, trying to find the/my child. I found the apartment where the babysitter was - and everything seemed to be fine. All the children in the building were ok, and that made me feel better.

I walked back through the building till I found myself in a hallway of sorts. There was an auction going on, or maybe it was a fight as well? That parts a little hazy. But at some point I came into possession of a long serrated sword - which looked like a very long bread knife. With the sword came a strange sort of scabbard - it was beveled green glass jar, like it was old glass. The sword sat inside it, but the glass didn't contour to the blade. I tried to be careful, but at some point I cracked the green glass hilt. It broke into two pieces, and I tried to hold it together without anyone knowing.

And in the back of my mind, I sensed that the fight was coming.

The next bit is the cloudiest. There was a contest, and I watched as two people won random prizes like gift cards and headphones. I was picked as the fastest participant (like I raised my hand the fastest?) - and I got to pick a prize. I thought there was an iphone in the cart, and I picked that, but then I saw that I didn't get the phone, but all the accessories for it. I had to ask to pick something else, and the woman running the promotion said it was alright. I grabbed what I hoped was a gift card - and it was. The other girl got a gift card worth one-thousand dollars. Mine was from Macys, but it was only worth two-hundred and ten dollars.

*****

That first bit seems very philosophical, doesn't it? About rolling with love versus rolling with hate and which is easier.

It's Curtains for you

I was in a show - a TerrorWerks sort of show, except everyone was in Renaissance garb. 

Note: Terrorwerks is a simulation game where you are given an air rifle and told to go through a maze or building completing objectives. 

This game was on a spaceship about to land on an alien planet. Our objectives were to keep the ship from getting destroyed, while at the same time taking out the enemy forces on the ground below. So we started to land, and I had a hand gun given to me, with which to destroy the explosive charges which had latched onto our ship. My teammates were doing likewise. We got all the charges taken care of, and we landed. There were lots of "enemies" though the tone was never one of animosity. It was like we were all playing at being heroes and villains. To shoot someone, you had to his a little orange-lit circle with a black center that floated either in front of them or above their heads.

We were winning this fight, when suddenly we realized that we had missed some munitions. We went to destroy one, but the leader of the opposing force detonated one while we were retreating, and the audience (who appeared from nowhere) got all hushed because it was a "nuclear" explosion. It destroyed the ship and everyone except me, and him. I acted all stalwart, and went back to our camp, where I picked up a gun, put it down, and instead took a thin blade with no real hilt - it was just a long piece of bendable metal, with wire wrapped around the end.

Outside it was a giant circular plain - and the opposing leader was standing there, similarly armed. All around the two of us, the "dead" players were watching and gathering. I strode across the field and told him he would pay for what he had done. He laughed, and we sort of fought. The audience was impressed, because they didn't know what was going on and couldn't tell if it was real. He tripped and fell backwards, and I pressed my blade up under his throat. I said something really cheesy (can't remember what - probably something like "for my friends...") and then I "slit" his throat - except it was all fake, so that I just swished the blade in front of his neck. Even this bent the tip of my blade, which I had to fix. 

Then there was something like a cast bow - except now there were girls in stilts as well as all the other costumery. The audience was clapping, and we were all happy to have put on such a good show.

***********

This was a fun campy dream - especially once it became clear that it was all fake. There was a lot more detail in the firefight, except I can't remember names or people, so I don't think it would make a lot of sense. You know, like the rest of the dream.

The Tudors are Jerks!

Alright - this dream was an episode of The Tudors, with flourishes.

I was a nun, I think - a mother superior - in this giant underground(?) monastery. Torchlight and giant columns - the works. And Master Cromwell (James Frain) was there, and he was demanding that I provide the king with women, and that he was going to destroy my abbey/monastery. I told him that I could, and he started to leave.

"But you must promise me something," I said. I walked up to him - he was on a step above me. "You must promise not to kill me in the end." Because I knew he betrayed people, and that everyone he knew wound up dead. He gave me a sarcastic little smile. I remember noticing the dark red stones hung around his neck, how fine his outfit was.

"Madam, I will make no such promise," he replied.

"Oh, but you will," I said. "Because it is in your best interest that I live. I am the soul of discretion, and can get you anything you want, and you'll never hear from me, never know that I am here." He started to turn away again, and I quietly asked, "And what of your soul, Master Cromwell?" I went on to question him a little, and I thought he was about to leave, but he broke down crying and almost fell over. I ran to him and held him tightly, and told him it would be alright. He was so very angry at himself, at the king, at the whole system he had helped put into place.

Later - there was a sort of procession through my monastery. I had all these women in white brought in, and stood them around the columns in the torchlight. King Henry VIII (Jonathan Rhys Meyers) arrived with his entourage, and they were very happy with what I had provided. I did not stay to see them take the women, but I could hear their revelry in the stairwells and corridors. I don't think I was the mother superior character here - like a good TV camera person, I was sweeping through the area in third person.

The queen was brought below and left there. I did not seem them put her in the crypt, but the camera did. She was going gaunt and going mad, and the King's new potential wife showed up, dancing and laughing in a beautiful gown of purple and green just outside the door, but the other queen could see her. The older queen gasped as the little woman tore off gold pieces from the dress. This angered the queen. The younger girl laughed, and tossed the gold pieces from the dress up into the air. She knew she had beaten the queen, who could not get out of the room she was in.

Then we were above ground, in a pale sunny room. I was sitting in a room with a group of nobles. At this point I remember I was wearing a black robe, but I was not the nun character anymore. Charles Brandon (Henry Cavill), was there, and they were debating...things. At some point, they made a mean-spirited joke about the common man, and I took insult. Brendon looked at me earnestly, and asked, "I'm sorry, that wasn't meant for you."

"Of course," I tried to laugh as I rose from the table. The other nobles were looking a little guiltily at me. "Excuse me, I'm just going to step out for a moment." I left and went down a few flights of stairs to where the completely period inappropriate bathrooms were. I sat down on a bench and tried not to feel sad. Brendon found me there, and apologized.

Then things started to deteriorate, in a dream sense. There was movement back downstairs, and crying from somewhere. The king was bored.

My monastery was sacked and robbed of all it's gold. I was outraged, but not so much as when they took my relics. This included two deformed children who were rumored to cure the blind. Guards showed up and threw bags over their heads and started to pull them to a cart. It was night. They couldn't understand what was going on, and I couldn't stop the guards. Not that I was really putting up a fight. I kept demanding that they take the hoods off, that the children weren't animals to be kept in cages, but no one was listening to me. The camera spun around a little crazily here. My great hound came up to me, and I was comforted. But then they took my hound from me as well, and I tried not to weep. "Why?!" I screamed. "Why must you take my dog as well?!" I looked around for Cromwell, whom I was convinced betrayed me. I found him, but he was stripped of all his power and broken. There was nothing to do to stop the king from completing his plan to steal the monasteries. There was fire, and novices running around in a panic.

Deteriorating further:

Now there were people being shackled in rooms - and there were mutant people on the other side of these plexiglass walls. They had saucer like rings around their eyes, and i.v.'s in their arms. This was all taking place in a similar underground setting, except the period was totally different. And there were soldiers being experimented on, and people kept in plexiglass containers, and it was all choppy and vaguely sickening.

**************


OK, apart from the deterioration into area 51 at the end of the dream - this was really in-depth. I could feel the stone steps, and see the details in everyone's outfits. I've had cavernous underground settings in dreams before, but I don't have TV show dreams that often. The last one I had was a Doctor Who dream, and that was ages ago.

I haven't watched "The Tudors" in some time. I wonder why my subconscious decided to set the dream with that show? Or why it chose a monastery, when the show is considerably racier. Not that my dream wasn't racy, but it seemed somehow removed from the sex that was going on. I also wonder why our brains choose TV shows at all, when our minds are capable of much more? Why choose a show?

Baby Bad Omen Bird

I was in some sort of restaurant?- with mauve seats. I found a box with a bird's nest in it, and I thought that it was one of those craft projects where women reclaim old nests and decorate them. But as I was getting ready to pass it by, I heard something move in the box. I got closer to the box, and this little black fuzzball bird flapped out. It had a big black beak and spindly legs with big feet, but it's body was still covered with down. I picked it up and it cawed at me.

I was not really thrilled with the prospect of looking after this baby bird, but I walked around, trying to find someone who would take care of it. The little bird, meanwhile, sort of cawed and flapped around me, occasionally settling on my arm or shoulder. No one I met wanted the bird - they either were not interested, or were lying about being interested and changed their mind when I tried to hand the bird over to them.

So I, resigned, continued to walk through this diner with a fuzzball raven on my shoulder. It would look at me every so often, turning its head to the side, opening and closing it's over-sized beak.

* * *

I have no idea what to make of it. Traditionally, black birds like crows or ravens are bad omens. And I certainly wasn't happy in the dream, but I wasn't sad or scared. More than anything, I recall feeling very put out, like "Aw man, why do I have to take care of this stupid thing?" and resigned because no one else would help.