A Kiss to Build a Dream On, Lost and Confused

        Had four dreams last night, but only remember bits of all but the first and last.

        In the first dream N was visiting and I showed her the exercise room. Somehow we ended up in a kiss the likes of which I have not had in over a decade. The kiss led to other activities and then I had to go and ruin it by saying, “Look at the time, you should be going.”

        “What!”

        “Time to feed the cats, Ginger and Marvin, they will be expecting you.” Even though it was meant to be considerate, N didn’t take it that way. I sat there kicking myself that I should have started with the statement about Ginger and Marvin first. I have no idea how to talk to women, even in my dreams.

        There was another dream immediately following, but despite the action adventure orientation of it, I kept thinking about how I had tripped up the romance in the previous dream. No amount of 3d fantasy battle action was able to knock that out of my thoughts.

        There was then a sort of generic fold spindle and mutilate reality dream, little red driving across the ocean, but the swells were choppy and about 15 foot so soon the poor little car was being tumbled all topsy turvy under the waves. I wasn’t sure the four of us would be able to survive, but managed to land on the bottom on our wheels and was able to drive up onto a beach and then from the beach to a causeway and up to the road. I’m still not sure how I got four people into that little two seater.

        The last dream was much more set in time and place. I was in RB, when I suddenly forgot where I was going and for what reason. I headed back in the direction I thought I’d left my car, but didn’t recognize the landmarks or the names on the street signs. At one point I found myself in a parking lot, that as I walked turned into a playground. I spotted an adult, and approached her to ask where the street I thought I’d been walking on was. The street name I gave her is actually not even in RB, so I’m not surprised that she didn’t recognize it. Sadly, it wasn’t really the street name I wanted to say.

        Unfortunately, I could only make two and three word sentences. She got scared. I managed “Bring help,” before she ducked into the building behind some students. I couldn’t help notice that she was a very pretty blonde woman, the one we’d sat across from at pizza last Wednesday night. (I can’t usually recognize where anyone but my friends come from in my dreams, so that was unusual.) I wanted to say something, but my brain still wouldn’t let me say anything more than two or three words. Even then, I couldn’t always bring the correct word to mind.

        A gentleman came out to talk to me, the white collar giving away that he was a minister. I pointed to my own neck and said “Thank you” which is not exactly what I meant to say, I was looking for something more like “I’m lost, help, please.” It took me several minutes to pull up the name of the street I was looking for. The minister guided me over to a retaining wall on the other side of the buildings and we sat and talked. I was having a hard time following what he was saying. During the talk we moved to the trunk of a nearby car, much the same vintage as my old Plymouth, but a sort of faded, dingy, metal-flake blue, with tail fins.

        I finally pointed to the car and managed to get out “Lost car,” and that seemed to have clued him in to what was going on.

        “I think you may have had a stroke,” the Minister said.

        I thought about that a moment, then nodded. As he was making a phone call, for the paramedics, I suspect. While I watched him punch up the number, I saw a giant blue-green sunfish shaped fish in the sky. “Sky whale,” I said pointing.

        “Uh, yes.” The minister motioned for me to sit back down.

        More of them started to rise from the other side of the school building. I could tell they were real fish, large, floating in the sky, but knew I had no way of telling the minister that because of the slippery grasp I currently had of language.

        “Kites, maybe.” I blurted out, having tried several different phrases under my breath until I found one that translated into something that he might not dismiss immediately.

        It worked, he casually looked over his shoulder, as pretty much would anyone, then started so bad he dropped his cell phone. I  managed to snatch it out of the air before it had fallen too far and tapped him on the shoulder to hand it back to him. He just stood, mouth agape, looking at the giant school of sky fish as they swam up over the school. They shimmered blue and green in the sun, large yellow dots on their tails and silvery bellies with dark blue spots. They were very pretty. The one I’d fist spotted turned to better look at us, then swam (flew?) back to the rest of the school.

 “We’d better get inside,” he took me by the sleeve and hurried me towards the school building that was rapidly being enveloped by the school of fish.

        I was thinking that we would have been safer in the car, because we could at least drive away, but then realized that the car might not have been his.