last night i dreamed i was dropping my boys off at their dad’s house. when we entered the home it was like entering a reality warp. it was all ozzy and harriet inside. his girlfriend had soup on the stove and roast in the oven. the house was hotel lobby clean. her dress starched, her apron starched, her hair up in a bun, just a little to tight and high on her head. the soup pot had vegetables that were whole, and larger than usual sticking up over the rim of the pot. a bouquet of carrots, celery, kate greens, whole leeks and garlics, not really cooking down though there was steam rising around them. my kids dad, who was once my husband, was formal and polite as he greeted us and welcomed us into the house. the boys seemed to pass through this warp. upon entering the home their disheveled ways transformed into clean behind the ears, tidied up and buttoned down appearances. they sat quietly and only spoke when spoken to. I was grossly out of place in this environment. everything was unfamiliar, even my own kids. i felt lost and scared and woke trying to convince my children to leave with me.
Amber writes:
I was dreaming that I had five boxes of generic brand Lucky Charms and was going to have a bowl.
Then I woke up.
Filed under: Dreams | Tags: anxiety, celebrities, despair, food, kitchen, performing
Rachel writes:
I’m competing on Top Chef at the Guthrie. We’re catering a small dinner party in Tony Kushner’s honor and we have to make three courses and a dessert. I had just finished plating my appetizer when one of the chefs heads out with a big tray. It turns out that we have to bring our appetizers out ourselves, and I can’t carry all my plates. Everyone else is scrambling, and by the time I get over there, the only plate left is a tiny Tupperware container that won’t fit all my garnishes. So I grab what parts of the appetizers I can and cram them on there and run out. I make it out to the main floor, but when I look down, the egg roll things I made had somehow burned on their way out of the kitchen. Continue reading
B. Marcy writes:
I’m standing in the middle of a hallway. It’s a hallway similar to a set out of the movie Toys staring Robin Williams. The floor is not flat but a rolling series of hills made of that fake grass used on mini golf courses. The walls are gray.
I turn and walking down the hall is my homecoming date from high school. She looks like a social repressed librarian dressed in a gray skirt with white Oxford cloth button down shirt and gray wool jacket: Black nylons and black shoes. She’s wearing her hair pulled back with heavy rimmed glasses sitting on the edge of her nose. Continue reading
Johann writes:
one of my favorite dreams isn’t one of mine.
a fella who i worked with on a paint crew one summer dreamt that on one job he was supposed to crumble chips-a-hoy cookies into the paint before applying it. this way it would give the house a stucco-like texture. unfortunately for him, his co-workers kept on eating all the cookies and so he couldn’t get the job done in time or under-budget (nabisco is a pricey painting expense, i guess…)
Bob sends us a recurring journey:
I’m traveling in a car in south Minneapolis, near lake Nokomis. Gradually things start to shift, the buildings become older, more electric poles appear, the surroundings become denser and more urban, the street patterns become more twisty and turny, and the streets themselves become narrower with the building closer to the sidewalks.
Then I’m no longer in a car but in a trolley car, and the environment is a old American city, circa 1900. The streets are teaming with people, fruit stalls abound, horses pulling carts in the streets. I get off the trolley and wade through the mud to the sidewalk. This is not a perfect recreation of a 1910 city, there are many inconsistencies: for instance there is a white bank building from the ’60’s; occasionally a 1955 Pontiac, like my dad owned, drives through the muck; some buildings wiggle, like hand drawn film animations. Continue reading
Gina sends us:
I was in a supermarket trying to order Muenster cheese, but this guy had only 19 cent pieces for sale that were stale. He laid them out on the counter. They looked like chunks of garlic. Then he tried to rip me off because the pieces of cheese had turned to grapes.
The man was obese with an apron on that had butcher stains on it, and when he returned to the cash register, he had tuna salad on his shoulder, while a woman with red lips tried to kiss him, but she teased and I woke up.
Emily has sent us the following two dreams:
1) My dream involved a trip to the Body Shop (a strip club on Sunset Blvd. in Hollywood, CA) specifically, the ladies room, which was still left in 1970’s decor style – wood paneling and avocado green carpet. There was one area of the bathroom where the walls were literally about one foot apart and as I walked through I got stuck. There was an older Asian lady walking by with a cleaning bucket and I asked to give me a hand. She giggled and said “in a minute” then I managed to squeeze my way through that tiny hallway, but not without a moment of feeling claustrophobic in my dream, all the while thinking “so *this* is how they keep all the dancers thin…this is SO not up to building code. Continue reading
Peter sends us the following two dreams:
1 – In this dream, the teenagers were all caught up in a fad they called “kaleing”. They would sit in couples, each with garlands of kale around their necks, and quietly, sweetly graze on each other.
2 – A dream of witches. Not the earth-loving neopagan kind, or the cartoony variety, but chilling supernatural beings. I was walking down a dark alleyway in Minneapolis, with only shafts of moonlight and occasional patches of incandescence cast down from the windows of the old brick and wood city buildings to either side. It was a shivery fall night, and the wind was pushing small objects around the alleyway.
Then, a surge in the wind — and the air felt as I have never felt it before. It was as if the rivulets of the gust threaded right through my body. Every hair stood erect, and a whispering right behind my ear seemed to accompany the whoosh of air. “wwhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiitttchhhhhh…” Continue reading
I dream of dada 