Teddy Runs Away, Tour to Small Town Dreamlands.

These are the notes I made to try to remember this convoluted dream:

Teddy Downtown Dancing around and then running away.

Gym is locked up.

Tour guide named N is very cute, and delightfully disappointed that my wife has the same name.

We set up lunch off the bus, see a parade (for a wedding).

The tour guide's house starts on fire and we have the truck from the parade roll over to put it out.

The dream actually started in a downtown disco. The scene was classic 70’s, but I wasn’t. The flashing lights and loud music began to take its toll and I decided that, although I was having fun, it was just a bit too painful on my ears. I managed to round up Teddy, who was a big hit with the women, and we made our way across the dance floor. As soon as he spotted an open door, he launched out of my arms and raced out into the night.

I stepped out after him, Leaving the pulsing violet and orange lights behind. Sadly there was no getting Teddy to come out, not with the loud music behind us, and the women who were trying their best to coax him out of hiding. Finally I had to call a halt to the hunt, knowing that I would be able to come back later after everything was closed. I checked the alleyway for stray dogs, not wanting him to be in any more danger than he was in. Everything looked pretty quiet.

One of the women gave me a lift back over to the gym where my clothing was in the locker room. The gym was locked up.  I had keys, of course, but they were in the locker. As we walked around I spotted another member, and asked him to bring me my stuff, as I knew he wasn’t allowed to open up the gym for me.

I then let myself in and changed quickly out of my angel flights and into my street clothes. I got out of the gym just in time to get on the tour bus. I’d wanted to check one more time on Teddy, but didn’t think he’d be allowed on the tour bus anyway.

On the tour bus we rode out of the city. The tour guide was a really cute little brunette with coal black eyes and bobbed hair. She was giving a good show about the local sights and history. Another guide took her place and she walked down the aisle and sat next to me. We talked for a bit, and I found out her name was N.

She looked very disappointed when I exclaimed “that’s a lovely name, but I’m biased, that’s my wife’s name, too.”

The tour bus arrived in the morning at a small town. There were tables set up alongside the bus station with breakfast foods on them. The main street was cordoned off for a parade. The tour guide invited myself and a couple of others to come over to her house in a half hour or so, and we’d get a good seat for the parade. She offered to let me come over early and share breakfast with her, but I thought it best to stay with the group. We watched the fire trucks roll up the street, preparing for the parade. We ate a few pastries and drank some orange juice. I worried about Teddy.

After a bit I wandered over to the tour guide’s home, enjoying the police and fire trucks lined up ready for the parade. I arrived to find the tour guide outside her home in a panic.

“There’s a fire in my kitchen!”

“Well, there’s fire trucks right there,” I said turning back to the parade route to flag one down.

“It might not be that bad,” she pulled me back towards her house by the elbow.

I saw that there was plywood covering her patio, and there was smoke and flames inside. “I think it is now.”

We ran over to get the fire truck. While they were putting out the fire, the tour guide admitted that she hated her little shack, but didn’t mean to burn it down. She offered to take me back to the city so we could look for Teddy. After we emptied her place of whatever was salvageable, we piled into her car and headed back to the city. I somehow knew she was going to end up at my house.

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Time Lost

              I dreamed that I woke up in a cluttered two bedroom apartment south of Poway. I knew that something was wrong, as I couldn't remember what day it was, or where I worked. I went to find my car, but the only keys I could find had the Plymouth key on it, not the Honda key. I got up and fed the two strange cats. They acted like they knew me, and were very affectionate, but I didn't recognize either of them.
              I brought in the newspaper, and the date was August 24, 1986. The paper itself was new and fresh. I realized that something was very amiss. I drove up to the school district offices, where no one knew me, but a couple of people asked where I'd been, and what I'd been up to. Apparently I hadn't worked for the school district since I'd gone back to school. (Which I, of course had no recollection of doing.)
              Things got fuzzy and things got blurry, and I found myself back on the road, this time not in the Plymouth, and not the Honda either. I pulled over in front of a Seven-Eleven and paid for a paper. The date was still August, 24, but the year was 2010. I drove back over to the school district offices, where they were even more surprised to see me this time. It seems I had died in a boating accident in Wisconsin in 2006 or 7.
              Finding that very awkward, I made my way out to my car, and then realized that I had no idea where I should go. I checked the address on my driver's license and drove home. The problem was, that N wasn't living there any more, and the only familiar thing was a scrawny T-Rex who made his way out of the Juniper Jungle that is in the front of the house to greet me. The current owners came out to ask me what I was doing.
              “Just petting T-Rex, he's the only thing left from when I used to live here.”
              “You used to live here?”
              “N and I, but I don't know what happened. Where are the other cats?”
              “She took them with her, but this one keeps coming back.” They looked at me, suddenly uneasy, “What do you know about an orange toy box in the rafters?”
              “I had one of those when I was a kid. I think there were some badly aged plastic road strips and some other toys, like the old red, white and blue Tupperware building blocks. Probably some of my grade school papers as well.”
              “We thought you were dead. Your wife never came back for that or the suitcases full of D&D stuff.”
              “Do you happen to know where she went?”
              “I think you need to leave now.”
              By this time, T-Rex was quite attached to my neck and purring so loud I'm sure everyone on the block could hear him.
              One of the neighbor 's older boys walked across the street. “Where did you come from? We went to your funeral. Are you D's brother?”
              “No, I think something has come unstuck in time. It's me, but this might not be my time-line.”
              While I was talking to C, the new residents brought out my gaming cases and the orange toy box. They wanted me to take them, and the cat, back to N. I agreed to do so and headed over to a condo address near the college, near our friend J.
              I never got there, but even though the location and time (I presumed) changed, the gaming cases and T-Rex remained with me. I was starting to get very frightened. I didn't want T-Rex to be lost somewhere, but I had no idea what was happening, and how I might have any control of that. The rest of the stuff, I realized, was just stuff, but I didn't want to lose T-Rex as he was my only connection to my right time-line and the possibility of getting back to N. While I was rustling up some cat food and water for T-Rex my cell phone rang. (Not the work phone I currently have, I noted.) The FBI wanted to know where I was currently located, they said I should stay put and they might be able to answer some questions. I told the voice on the phone that I didn't want to go anywhere, especially without my cat.
              The problem was, I didn't know where I was currently located. I was back in the Honda, Little Red, but was parked in a KOA campground with a tarp closed in the windows and stretched out over the back of the hatch and held on the ground by my orange toy box. I had some sort of fold out cot structure that I was using for a bed and the hatch was being propped up by my old costume wizard's staff.
              Out of curiosity I opened up the toy box pushing the tarp up a bit with the lid. The toy chest was full of clothing, including long thick socks and various kilts. There were also a couple of notebooks in the chest. For some reason I found myself describing this as I went through them.
              “Don't read anything!” The voice on the phone warned. “That seems to be what triggers the changes for most people.”
              “You mean this is happening to lots of people?”
              “Not lots, but enough to keep a couple of us busy.”
              “Do you know how to stop this, to get me back to my real home?”
              The voice hesitated, “Uh, we're working on it.”
              I idly flipped open a notebook and immediately recognized the handwriting, it was my own version of the 'Stop' typeface, meticulously lettered around a complex drawing. I felt T-Rex climb into my lap, smelled the cat food on his breath. I flipped a page and read the titles on the next page “Obvious Differences,” and “Similarities,” and written in all caps under neath “D - FILL THIS OUT AS SOON AS YOU/I CAN! IT WILL TRAVEL WITH YOU/ME, IN SOME FORM”
              I saw the words “2012, PDA replaced by paper notebook, Police State! As the last line of the 'Differences' page. And a string of “T-Rex, Orange Toy Box,” under 'Similarities.
              I was about to ask the FBI caller how the Constitution was these days when everything shifted again.
              I was still sitting with T-Rex in my lap, but the world was a gloomy blend of dark purples and deep forest greens. The Journal was my old Leather covered Journal, this time with a thick notebook made of graph paper in it. I quickly penned in some notes for the last place, what little I'd experienced, and the differences I noticed in this place. The Orange Toy Box was not in my range of vision and I knew, somehow, that I would be here a little bit longer. I pulled out my wallet to see where I was living, or at least what was recorded there. I flipped back to the complex drawing, actually several of them, and discovered that the further apart myself, T-Rex and the Orange Toy Box were, the longer I stayed in a place. I found a note page that indicated that when T-Rex was in the box the time in that realm was estimated to be mere seconds. “DO NOT REPEAT THIS EXPERIMENT, ALMOST LOST T-REX!” was written under the illustrations. And “Always keep food and water in the box!”
              It was T-Rex howling that made me realize that we were sitting in the overgrown wreckage of my current home. He was reacting to the presence of another animal. A raccoon was watching us from the thick Wisteria bush. I stood up, frightening the animal off. T-Rex tried to burrow into my armpit. It was chilly, so I looked around for something to throw on. Everything in the place seemed to be covered with a thin layer of dark velvet, mold, I realized, and carefully made our way out into the street. The whole neighborhood was over run with mold. Even the sky seemed tinted by it. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and let T-Rex climb in underneath, using the notebook to give him a place to sit. I started looking for my car, or any way out of this particular place.

Flying Gnome Roadtrip

              I dreamed I was about 2 foot tall and had wings. At first I was running around in a large terminal type area with lots of marble on the floors and walls. Then, suddenly, I was in the back of a station wagon with friends. I looked out of the window and saw a full flight of bat-winged gnomes, like me. I said my goodbyes, and said I was Going to meet everyone there, but I wanted to join the flight to get there.
              I rolled down the back window and unfurled my wings. The movement of the station wagon pulled enough air into my wings to create instant lift. I held on to the luggage rack long enough to get myself stable and then flapped up into the evening sky to join the gnome flight.

Flattop Home

        I dreamed than N and I went out and purchased an old WWII era flattop aircraft carrier to use as a home. Somehow we managed to have it towed to a hillside near Poway. We’d managed to have utility services put in and we nestled the ship into the hillside so it looked like the hill was a giant wave about to engulf the flattop. The elevator was still working and we were using it to put our cars on the deck underneath. The driveway actually had a ramp up to the flight deck.

We’d converted the bridge and ready rooms into computer rooms. Inside we’d opened up a lot of the smaller spaces to make full sized rooms with lots of storage and guest space.

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Hospital, No!

              Last night I dreamed Dad and I were in the hospital. He was having a stroke or a heart attack, and I was there for some tests. I kept trying to get them to take Dad first, as he was the one with the emergency. Somehow argument I tried ended up with a negative result. They switched my appointment with Dad, then tried to get me to sit in a wheelchair to go down to emergency. They canceled my appointment. I finally managed to get the attention of a doctor, and asked him “What's wrong with that man?” without indicating that I even knew him. The doctor immediately recognized that my dad was in trouble and called for an emergency team. The admitting nurse was very angry with me and wouldn't remake my appointment.
              I pulled out my notebook and made a point of looking at her badge and carefully writing down her name. I called the appointment number and asked if there'd been a cancellation and could I get right in, as I was at the hospital to drop off my dad. They scheduled me for my own appointment over the phone.

              This morning I was dreaming away, about what, I have no clue, when I heard N shout my name, followed by “NO!” in that way that means what one is witness to is so heartbreaking that there are no other words, denial, wish and heartbreak in a single sound.
              I leaped out of bed, “What's wrong?”
              “Wake up! You're dreaming!” N's voice, from the other side of the bed rather than down the hall in her office, where I'd have sworn she was.
              At least I didn't make it all the way out into the garage, or outside. I guess I'm going to have to start wearing pajamas to bed.

Waking Up,

        I dreamed that I got up and the refrigerator door was open about 6 inches. The thing that struck me most odd about it wasn’t the smell of rotting food, but the fact that the light wasn’t on. In fact no lights were on, even the little clocks were dark. I could barely see the cats slinking around the edges of my vision, and even then I was thinking they might not be cats.

       

        In another dream I was at work, trying not to let people see me rubbing the crunchies out of my nose.

“Wait, I think I had a dream similar to this recently.”

I looked down to make sure I was wearing pants and shoes.

I really miss dreaming about scantily clad women.

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Visiting France, Fishbowl

        One of the dreams I had last night involved N and I taking a trip to France (and presumably other parts of Europe.) We were making our way around with the tour group and then split off to try food in a little restaurant we’d seen from the bus. Neither of us really speaks French, but we had a little cell phone sized translator, and we were making our way through the menu, and trying to chat with the server.

        After much mangling of the French language and humor about it all around, I translated “It’s tough to sound clever when you only know fifteen words,” and showed it to the waiter, who cracked up with us. We had the best service ever after that, and a couple of people even came over for our autographs and hilarity ensued as we tried to explain that we weren’t famous.

        The next dream wasn’t as fun. I was at work (in my new desk which has a window right next to the entry of the building. So everyone who comes into the office can see my computer screen before they enter. I joke that I moved from the small fishbowl into the larger one. My boss came in to tell me I needed to always have something official looking up on my screen, and I needed to make sure I didn’t pick my nose or scratch while I was at my desk.

 “Is it okay to suck my thumb and rock back and forth sobbing instead?”

He did not look amused.

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Outgoing Presidential Address.

        I dreamed that N and I as well as eight others were gathered on the steps between two landings outside a public meeting hall. The wooden steps, whitewashed years ago and showing their age, were on the side of a large wooden building.

        An elderly gentleman, short with a silver flat top, handed each of us a book and asked us to pick out any two pages to read.

        I asked what sort of theme he was looking for.

        He said it didn’t matter, no one would really be listening anyway. If they are, at least the material will be inspiring.

        I leafed through the book, it seemed to be a bunch of essays by someone trying hard to be Garrison Keeler, but missing by a large degree. Not a single essay was less than 10 pages. All of them were a sappy paean to the uselessness of human effort and mankind’s only hope being to trust in God.

        I looked up, everyone else was dutifully leafing through the book and trying to find two consecutive pages.

        Inside, the Elderly Gentleman introduced me as the outgoing president of the Rotary.

        I stepped up to the podium and proceeded to explain that N and I had enjoyed our first year in the little mountain community. That I didn’t remember being elected president, so it was certainly the easiest job I’d ever held.

        Apparently someone was actually paying attention because he asked me why I wasn’t reading from the book.

        “You mean the sappy ‘you aren’t strong enough to do this without God’ book?”

        Okay, that wasn’t the smartest way to phrase that. He took exception to my characterization. I then pointed out computers, vaccines, surgery, and many other things that kept us alive and healthier than any previous generation were certainly not dictated by any book.

        Suddenly we seemed to have everyone in the auditorium paying attention. I started taking questions (mostly hostile) and trying to explain that they were capable and society wouldn’t collapse unless good men did nothing.

        It sort of erupted when I asked them to tell me straight up that I wasn’t a good man because I didn’t believe in their god.

        EG was trying to get me off the stage, “That was more than two pages!”

        “Happy to leave if there are no more questions.”

        Oddly, the rest of the Rotary were not so willing to let me go just yet.

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