Dances and Balls and the Centuries Between.

Last night was the night of dances and balls.  At first, I was in my old high school, and I could not tell whether I was a teacher or a student.  Mr. V-- W---- was there and one of the chaperones.  Everything was being put in order in the old gym.  During the dance something went awry and some massive light fixture caught fire--ending the dance.  The problems continued as I attempted to drive home.  I'm not sure if I was slightly inebriated or what, but that old drive down E15 was a struggle.

Before I knew it I was in another car, struggling again.  This time I was with someone--maybe my sister Hope--driving to a ball.  We had been searching for lakes, and found one that was seemingly endless.  We wound around the lake, searching for parking, and an angry/eager driver behind us found ways to swivel around us on the curve.  The lake had many ins and outs, shaped more like a puzzle piece than some kind of circle.  We had initially seen one parking lot but dismissed it, only to find the rest of the lake without parking, and often with trees blocking our view.  Somehow we stopped and we found ourselves inside a building.  Suddenly it was the 18th century or so and we were discussing which dances could be done in which spaces.  Prior to waking up, we were clearing out two adjacent dining rooms of their dark wood furniture in order to accommodate the dance.

(I was reading Mansfield Park before I went to sleep last night.)

Nacho Libre at NWC

You'd think I was sitting around watching plays--or at least watching movies--for the trends in my dreaming.

Last night I dreamed that my old art professors were to perform plays for the student body.  Joe S. eagerly ran in and claimed that he would be Jack Black's character in Nacho Libre.  The actual performance was to be held in some old gymnasium. 

Before I knew it I was in some unfinished basement and one of the other art professors, Luke, was curating a space on the wall about the size of a door frame.  He had in his arms about 6 capes on thick plastic hangers, and was ready to hang them in order to commemorate this event.

I played a Mermaid in The Tempest

In one part of my dream, the singles were supposed to get together from my church.  I made it out to the location, and apparently Shea was back from deployment and was leading some activity.  It looked like some military exercise/drill.  I came over and made mention that it was no longer a men’s only ministry.  He had missed this development while he was gone, however, I was the one who had to leave.

There was then some portion in which I was biking . . .

Before I knew it I was back at the high school where I student taught, only my classroom was in the unfinished basement of the house where I grew up.    Along one wall there were books after books along with movies—both DVD and VHS.  There was a very strong sense that the students knew I didn’t know what I was doing.  So, I began just organizing the books and DVDs.  I then realized I had some sort of honors course.  The overwhelming sense that I had was that I was incompetent and all my students knew it.

Class was dismissed (or something)  and the students were called to the auditorium.  There was a pool on the stage, and apparently there was going to be a performance of a play that I was in.  The play was apparently Shakespeare’s The Tempest.  (I’ve never actually read/seen this play, but apparently that’s what it was supposed to be, even if the following isn’t an accurate description.)

I was supposed t o be some sort of mermaid.  I had on some blue sequined swimsuit, and the beginning of the play was just me swimming around on the stage.  Later a Viking boat entered, and Jason Z was on it.  He was some character I was supposed to seduce, so I think I feigned drowning or something.   So, suffice it to say that not much plot was developed while I was on stage—I mostly just swam about.  The play was some sort of fund raiser for school, so they had a free-will donation among the students and one student busted out a rather large wad of cash.  This I witnessed while I exited the stage during intermission.  When I walked down the stairs, I dripped water all over the carpet, which caused a judgmental look to emerge from a student named Collen, who looked like a nerdy student of European-American origin, but who had a Japanese accent.

Indiana Jones Ledge

In my dream last night I was back In high school as a student.   My class was taken to a roof to look over the edge.  There was a 18-inch ledge about 5 feet down that we were supposed to jump onto.  It was sandy and covered with rocks (very Indiana Jones-esque).  When one did, he/she would fall through it, however, the ledge would slow down the momentum enough to keep from any severe injury while jumping.  So we were all jumping off the building.

At some point there was an attempt to have this activity again.  There was much more student interest this time around and somehow I lost my place in line.  I was then on a bus and got into some sort of scrape in which I had to choose which punishment I had to take.  The punishment wasn’t all that severe.

Small Town Festivals and the Tattoo Teacher

Last night I dreamed that went on an errand with some people (I think Sarah R. and my sister Heather) to Best Buy or Home Depot.  I biked, and really had to contend with traffic to get there.  I put my bike in a coat room while we shopped.  When we returned to the coat room, I found that my bike had been stolen.  I was kicking myself—especially since it was the first time I’d biked all season.

We left the place and soon I found myself walking through a school.  In passing a male high school student said I was a “tattoo teacher.”  I had no idea what that meant.  I asked another student, and she clarified that a “tattoo teacher” was a hot teacher.  I found this especially inaccurate as I was dressed very frumpily.  I spent some more time in the school, then proceeded to Story City.  There a town festival of sorts was going on.  While walking down the street, I had the urge to walk up into an orthodontic office.

There an old high school secretary was working as receptionist.  I made a comment that I just had the urge to walk in.  Then I looked in again.  The offices looked like a house, with split-levels and carpet everywhere.  Higher up, at a table for two, Rachel W. and Jordan W.—whom I went to high school with—were toasting each other with especially tall and dainty wine glasses.

I continued on my walk into a home.  It was the home of the B— family from church.  Alex—the elementary age son—and I were talking after dinner and he was trying to figure out if he had the accurate time on his watch, because of upcoming parade and firework action.  We soon left the house and headed towards downtown.  On the sidewalks, someone had painted four-square courts, and games were in full swing.  I recognized some other children from my church (did I mention in real life it’s VBS week at church).

These are the last scenes I remember clearly.  It was a pretty vivid dream, and my dreams have been especially vivid the last few nights.  I have just been slow to record them—instead waking early and running around, putting my thoughts on other things so that my dream is hardly acknowledged.

Conclusions without Beginnings

Remembering and forgetting and remembering again.  That is the cycle of dreams isn't it?  There's the brief moment shifting a car into gear when suddenly a flash of last night's subconscious journey appears.  The number of dreams I have been recalling lately has fluctuated, and in order to recall last night's dream, I must lock onto the key imagery: bicycles pulling into a garage, a large building--a school, perhaps?  No, there are only fragments now.  The most distinct portion was when I pulled into the garage of my St. Anthony place, accompanied by two other bikers.  I was riding my black Schwinn.   It was the end of the dream--pulling into the garage and shutting the garage door.

Often when I watch films or read books, I can recall the conflict and its development, but I struggle to recall the resolution and conclusion.  I suppose I can't but accept this inverse of habit.

Rich Relations and Transporting Goods

Friday night into Saturday (so the 15th into the 16th--or just last night) I crashed at Lynette and Matt's place.  It was quite the adventure--especially with the fire alarm at 5 AM.  My body must have registered that I was in an unfamiliar bed, because I dreamed that I was staying with some rich relative.  Lynette and Matt's place was kind of transplanted out into some east coast/rural/rich people place and that's where I was visiting.  I was about to depart and I was being very particular about trying to make sure that I packed everything I had brought with me.  This was being made slightly more difficult as I tried to figure out how I was going to borrow the attractive car (being lent to me by my rich relation) to bring my things home and also get the car back without wasting resources such as gas, energy, and time.  I ought to point out that I have no idea what kind of car it was, because I've never been able to catch on to recalling car models or manufacturers.  Suffice it to say that the car was silver and had some cool doors.

Not much of a plot, but maybe I can blame that on the fire alarm in the middle of the night.

DUI--and a unicycle

Last night's dreaming ws thick with the fact that I stayed up past 2 Am finishing The Help.  In my dream I was back in a shop class.  We were all making tables and I was fussing and fussing with mine to make sure everything was perfect.  I was drinking a beer while I was making it.  I realized how far behind I was getting on it due to being such a perfectionist about everything.

Class ended and I went home.  I thought I was drinking the same beer at home but then realized there was more in the bottle than I remembered. Then I realized that I was drinking and driving.  I was quite fatigued, and I didn't know what to do about the fact that I had an open container in my vehicle.  Finaly I just jammed it in between the center console and my seat.  Apparently I instantly thought more clearly and decided to bike to the shop.  In real life, the front tire is currently off my bike.  It held in my dream too.  So I went to get my dismantled bike, and rather than attaching the tire, it was like I was riding a unicycle and just holding the front tire in place.  This wouldn't due.  I noticed that I was missing handlebars.  I went back to see about finding them--back being biking down something that simultaneously did and did not look like Ames' Historic Mainstreet.

It was in all this confusion that I woke up.

Security Deposits and Substitute Teaching

My memories are scattered of last night's dreams.  The thing that comes to the forefront--which may have been sequentially last--was an incident with my former landlord.  In my dream I came to pick up a piece of mail or something from my old place--which looked like the home I grew up in.  I picked up the envelope and found two smaller envelopes taped to it.  One had my name on it, and inside was $5 and a note that said there was a scratch on the door that no one remembered/claimed and I was supposed to take that money to get something to patch it up.  I remember thinking that he had already paid me my deposit back in full.  Next I examined a couple doors and wondered which one I was to take care of and how to go about doing it.

The rest of the dream was at a school I hadn't been to before.  I think it was my old school district because Batista was there.  I was apparently subbing, and I had a little bit of fear/self-consciousness on how to procede through the classes.  They had a lot of free reading time, and during that time they were tempted, not to talk, but to go to sleep and to have snacks.  Later a helpful student came buy to empty the very full trash can.

The rest of the time in the school was vague and rushed--kind of like a real school day.  At some point I either went on a walk or conversed with Batista, but my memories are foggy.

Photography

Last night's dream was one in which my identity was obscure.  The protagonist of the dream was an obnoxious, dirty blond teenager.  I followed her around throughout the dream, but I don't think I was her.  At the beginning of the dream, I was traveling somewhere by car.  The highways wove and split and turned and arced all over the place.  It seemed an industrial wasteland.  I had the sense that there was some sort of political conference or something going on.  When I arrived at the given place, there was a chain link fence surrounding a deep-set pond.  This was not to prevent drowning, but to prevent swimming in the polluted water.

Apparently I was at some sort of photography studio.  The girl I was with was crazy about photography.  In fact, most of the scenes in my dream would begin with me looking on a scene and simultaneously viewing a thumbnail image of the scene.  However, I found that these little glimpses I would get revealed that the photography was actually very poor.  I remember in particular looking at a picture that had this protagonist in the foreground placed in the center of a road, arms akimbo.  She was framed by branches on either side.  Both her and the branches were silhouetted, but the viewer could see color and depth of field around her and the limbs.  The branches took up so much of the picture plane, however, that the picture overall was far too dark.

I continued to travel with her through this place, learning about her.  She was interested in shopping, shoes, jewelry, and photography.  At some point I also met a group of her friends.  I know that there was more than this.  There was some underlying plot, some motivation she had for some action or some relational tension she needed to resolve.  However, it escapes me.

World War I and the Draft

Last night I dreamed that it was World War I, only the time period was now.  I was on the front lines, and there had been a draft.  Nearly everyone was drafted--men and women alike.  I must have been a journalist because I was not fighting in the war, though I was on the front lines interviewing people.  I remember particularly interviewing Barb P.--my best friend in 8th grade.  She had been drafted.  During my interview, I always had my kindle with me, though at some point I lost it.  Apparently kindle's were quite common on the front lines--especially those with orange covers--and I kept finding other people's kindles.

Though a war was going on, I never saw the enemy.  I saw their gunfire that found us through the woods.  At one point there was a break or it was overnight or something and the whole gang went into McDonald's.  It was there that I spoke more in depth with Barb about her experiences.  She had risen to high society within the United States, and she spoke of what her husband was going through.  Later the dream shifted and the two of us were speaking in a hotel hallway.  She confessed that she wasn't using the real name of her husband.  When she uttered his real name, I realized he was a celebrity, known for his wealth and influence.  It was at this point when I had my biggest revelation, that I woke up.

Impulsive Spending

Last night’s dream was one in which I was very thankful that it was just a dream.  In my dream, I apparently was enrolled at the Salon Professional Academy (i.e. beauty school).  I don’t recall taking any classes or having to pay tuition, but I was going through their program.  I was there to have my hair cut or something, but for whatever reason, my appointment time kept on being shuffled around.  I, also, was being shuffled around.  During this time, the stylist asked me if I would be interested in buying a sample pack of hair products.  I figured this made sense, so I agreed.  She showed me four full-size bottles of product, held together by a large plastic hanger.  Instead of being a variety of gel and mousse, the bottles were mostly shampoo and conditioner with one other thing thrown in.  I saw the price was 38 dollars, and I thought it a little ridiculous.

Then she began to pull out more four packs, each containing different products, and each pack being around the same size.  I began to regret my hasty agreement to the purchase, and I wondered if I would be able to get out of it—especially since the stylist continued to show me attention for only a couple minutes at a time.  Somehow during this time, I also bought some sort of motorcycle.  I brought this purchase with me (somehow) when I drove to an elementary school in a school bus.  I didn’t want to leave the bike just parked somewhere, but rather, I wanted the bike to be brought inside, because I feared it would be stolen.  I actually considered putting a bike lock on it.  I was considering this opportunity, when I remembered that the elementary school had just put another motorcycle that I had just purchased on display.

I began to wonder about the state of my finances and why I was making foolish purchases.  Moreover, I wondered how and why I was enrolled in a beauty school.  Shortly after I woke up and realized I hadn’t inadvertently purchased two motorcycles—what a relief!

It Takes a Village to Raise a Child

My dream last night was no doubt influenced by the upcoming fun day on the lake with my church.   In the dream, Sharla and I were going to go somewhere together.  We had been in some building that had the same layout of my childhood home, and I was supposed to meet her in the parking garage off the den.

While I was trying to leave, some blond 3-year-old boy threw his arms around me in a giant hug.  It was darling, and I had to work to get him separated from me.  Nearby was a 6-month-old girl dressed in a frilly, white dress with a lacy white hat.  She was propped up with pillows.  Another child was there also and did something disobedient.  I raised my hand as if to swat at her, but instead scolded her with my words.  Her parents saw and were very angry with me.

So how does that relate to a fun day at my church?  I think it relates because of the community experience at the church and the hope that every adult in the church would do their part in ensuring the godly upbringing of children.  Perhaps that’s not phrased well, but I recently awoke.

Back to Work

It's hard to describe last night's dreams; it was as if my dreams were waking me up--and that was it.  My dream was that I was being woken up and I was being woken up.  This happened a little after 4 AM, then 5 AM, then I woke from an actual narrative.

One of which included me going to a morning shift at work (at the healthcare job).  Typically I work the 2-10 or 3-11, but I was working the 6-2.  I got there and realized it was a day one of the residents had to go to day program, so I immediately began getting him ready to go.  I ended up getting distracted by some things and was suddenly overwhelmed by all the staff that was there.  Apparently random employees of the company came over just to hang out in between things.  I found the other staff that was working and wondered if she had given the resident his breakfast and pills before he got on the bus.  At some point the house transformed into the house I grew up in.  I looked at the driveway and he was getting into the bus.  On my way out, I had noticed his meds were prepped but not yet given.

I then talked to Mai--the other staff--to see if she had given the medications or not.  My supervisor was around and talking so I remember talking to her.  Much of this part of the dream was the frustration that I was trying to get things done but was unable to really do anything.

At some point I walked out to the driveway--perhaps to go home--and I met three of our neighbors, two males and one female.  They were all African, and were around the same age as I was.  They said they had never met anyone who lived in the house.  So I introduced myself and we talked for a while, and one of them pulled out his camera and randomly began photographing our introduction.

My First Visit to Ostrava

My dream began with the prospect of doing parent-teacher conferences at my old middle school.  I had suddenly heard about them and was unprepared.  I figured they were in the evening, so I went to the middle school and planned on preparing for them after class.  Part of my lack of preparation was my wardrobe.  I was wearing red and yellow plaid pants.  While walking across the street with a student or someone, I walked knee-deep through muddy water.

When I arrived at the middle school, I found that instead of evening parent-teacher conferences, they were to start at 3 pm.  Moreover, this was the last day of school.  During classes I scrambled to finish things up and also to review with the students so that they would appear brilliant at the conferences.  At one point I remember a student specifically using the word "pointillism" in our review--though she had paired it with some other polysyllabic word.  Throughout the time the classroom was packed and at some point the conferences began, though I don't recall seeing a single parent.

Next I found myself at work at the group home.  At one point I realized I had taken three residents on an outing--I'm not sure how considering that would mean I would be pushing three wheelchairs.  From their it transitioned into being in the Czech Republic.

I think I was taking a train from the little town in Iowa to Ostrava, as if they were in the same state or country.  Simultaneously, it was as if I was traveling from Prague to Ostrava.  I had my camera with me and I was seated with Daniel J.--a friend from a past trip to China (in real life).  I began taking pictures of all we passed.  The train was a bit elevated, making for an interesting view.  i saw old building structures, including something like the catacombs.  All over, there was heavy building machinery, showing this was an industrial town.  I was in awe of all the beauty and during the ride I also saw a traditional wedding.  The aura of everything was not that I was in Czech Republic, but that I was in something straight from Arabian nights.  The people were darkly complected, and their even seemed to be Arab music.  The architecture, however, was like a dusty Russian architecture with spires and domes.  I think I was maybe transforming the Czech Republic into Turkey due to my friend Rachel's recent return from there.

I sensed we were on a train, but perhaps we were on a bus, because I remember looking out at the lanes of traffic.  Out there I saw paper-thin porcelain sailboats made by some artist.  I suspected Rachael (now Rachael W.) had made them.  They were beautiful and delicate and sitting on the painted lane dividers.  Some of the ships lay smashed, others were still in tact.

At some point we turned around and returned to a market area near a bay.  There were what appeared to be columns in front of a market tent, but the "columns" were made of strings of beads.  At each column was a man who would climb the column and then repel down it.  Nearby was a group of people singing or chanting.  They were somehow in or wearing this wooden structure while they sang; it was in the shape of an "s" and was hand-carved from wood.  The music was full of wonderful harmonies, and as I observed I heard some words (supposedly) by Anne Lamott.  She observed about the place that she would be overcome by the beauty of the singing every morning and night and she marveled at the unity it expressed of the people.

The singing ended and people dispersed.  The wooden structure was left, though now smaller, and I was washing it in the sink.  Before I knew it, the festive throng had joined together again, this time for a wedding ceremony.  We moved to an open field where we circled up, men standing consecutively, then women.  Two boys ran over to the women's section to be funny, but the master of ceremonies required they stay where they were.  The people in the circle were simultaneously adults and children.  I found that this dance of the bridal party was also to be a sort of red-rover-style matchmaking experience.  Before the two sides of the circle came together and predicted the match, there was a great singing.  It was like a chant and at first I thought it was a Buddhist ritual, but then in the words that were sung, I came to think that it could not be anything but Christian.  The words washed over me and spoke of love, brotherhood, and unity.  The particular phrases and words used escape me, but I was near tears in my dream from their beauty.  Unfortunately, the wonderful words were interrupted by my alarm.

Church Canoe Trip

Perhaps it is the frequent change of scenery and sleeping arrangements that has my dreams slipping through my fingers shortly after waking.  Or perhaps it is because I am so eager to hold onto my dreams that I suddenly find myself unable to recall their content.  Last night's dream, however, I was able to recall.

It began with me seated in a canoe in a body of water bordered on all sides with brickwork.  The bay area held many canoes occupied by persons from my church.  Backpacks and people were loaded into canoes as the group of us was to head off for a day's outing.  I had arrived early but remembered some item I had forgotten (perhaps a phone charger for the canoe) and was at odds to determine whether or not to retrieve the item because of the time.  I decided initially against it, yet the party was not to leave until our pastor arrived.  He was running late and I risked retrieving the item.  The rest of the group departed in my absence, and I was left to figure out the route alone.

I had run into what in my dream was North Minneapolis--though it resembled my small Iowa hometown moreso.  I took a back route through an alley and encountered a student that I had had while subbing.  I eventually made it into some sort of shop.  I was debating purchasing a car (canoe?) charger for my phone.  My phone battery was very low and I knew that I would be canoeing to the location alone.  I decided that I ought to make the expense in the name of safety.  I consulted with my friend and fellow-adventurer, Heather B., to figure out how to canoe from North Minneapolis to wherever the rest of the party was.  She told me about the direction of the rivers and I began to realize it was strangely similar to the rivers near Trout Lake Camp, where we had once been counselors.

I was just about to board my canoe alone when I awoke.

I think my dreaming may have been affected by my recent visit to southwest Iowa, viewing the Missouri River flooding, and also by my plans to join my church in a day on the lake.